Page 38 of The Devil’s Lair

Could this work? Or am I fleeing one nightmare only to get sucked into another?

Chapter Thirteen

TOBIAS

Movement to my left catches my eye, and when I turn my head, Rebecca’s leaning against the door frame with the oddest look on her face. Isla follows my gaze, then clambers off my lap and runs to her mother.

“There you are.” Rebecca drops to a crouch and draws her daughter into a hug. “I was worried.”

“That’s my fault,” I say, grimacing. “She just appeared. I should have called you or sent someone to let you know she was safe.”

The tension around her eyes eases. “It’s okay. I’m overprotective.”

“That’s understandable.” I gesture to the row of chairs around the table, grateful we’re alone. I like the idea of it being the three of us. Kind of like a real family—one I truly never thought I’d have. The more I think about Xan’s idea of marriage to Rebecca, the more I realize it’s the perfect solution for both of us.

Rebecca sits down and lifts Isla onto her lap, but the little girl squirms and points at me.

She points at me.

“Do you want to sit with Tobias?” Rebecca asks.

Isla nods.

And my heart… it squeezes so tight, I almost stop breathing. I love this little girl so much already.

I hold out my arms. Rebecca puts her on the floor, and Isla runs to me. I hoist her up, glancing over the top of her head at Rebecca, who’s wearing this soft smile, pressing a hand to her throat.

“She adores you.”

“It’s mutual. She’s incredible, and that’s down to you.” I cut up Isla’s pancake, then hand her the fork. She stabs a strawberry, then a slice of pancake, and shovels it into her mouth, grinning the entire time.

“Good?”

She gives me the thumbs up before she digs in again. I could do this every morning for the rest of my life and die a happy man. Whether that’s my future or not depends on Rebecca. I’m desperate to ask her if she’s thought anymore about the marriage idea, but I don’t want to push, to scare her away. She deserves to have the time to think it through and make sure it’s what she truly wants. It’s a fucking big step, and one she shouldn’t take lightly.

“Do you want⁠—?”

“Hi, Isla, Rebecca.” Saskia strolls in, reaching over my shoulder to grab an almond croissant and kissing the top of Isla’s head. “I love your pajamas.”

Isla beams at her, then points to the croissant.

“Oh, you want some?” Eager nodding ensues. Saskia tears the croissant in half and hands a piece to Isla. She takes it from her.

“Isla, say thank you,” Rebecca nudges.

Isla sticks her thumb in the air; a response I’ve noticed is her way of saying thanks. She nibbles at the croissant, scattering crumbs over my suit.

“Isla, be careful!”

“Don’t worry about crumbs.” I brush them onto the floor. “It’s just a suit. It’ll clean.”

Rebecca’s eyes glaze over, as if my reply has taken her to a different time and place. I’d wager good money that her arsehole dead husband would have crashed out over a bit of grease on his suit.

“Hey, why don’t I take Isla for a bit so you two can talk?” Saskia stares pointedly at me. Great. She knows about the wedding idea. “Only if you’re okay with that, Rebecca.”

I expect Rebecca to refuse. She’s rightly overprotective of Isla, and we are, to all intents and purposes, still relative strangers to them both.

“Would you mind?”