Page 77 of The Devil’s Lair

Wow. “How did he take that?”

“With bluster at first. I don’t think he had a clue what Rory had done. I doubt you’ll have anymore trouble with him.”

“I see.” I rub my hands together, palms clammy. “Did he say anything about the custody case?”

“Not much. He did ask me to pass on a message to you, though. He wants you to consider allowing him and Felicity to see Isla.”

My stomach bottoms out. I worry my lip. “Do you think I should?”

“What I think or don’t think is irrelevant. It’s what you think that matters.”

I heave a sigh. “You know, before all this, Isla was pretty close to her grandparents. They never liked me, and it showed, but they cared for Isla.”

He touches my arm. “Take your time. You don’t need to decide anything right now.”

“I just…” Another heavy sigh lifts my chest. “Isla’s never met my mother, for good reason. If I don’t let her see Felicity and Preston, I’m robbing her of her other grandparents, too. And when she grows up, she might hate me for that.”

“Isla could never hate you.”

I hope not. As a mother I’m constantly second guessing every decision I make, wondering if I’m fucking things up somewhere. Felicity and Preston tried to take Isla from me, and I’ll never forgive them for that, but I have to think about what’s best for my daughter in the long run.

“I think I should go back down. This dinner is important to my father.” He curls his fingers around my hand. “Will you come with me?”

“Try and stop me.”

A flicker of a smile tugs at his lips. “When we married, I thought I was getting a wife in name only. Instead, I got a partner in life.” He brings my hand to his mouth and brushes his lips across my knuckles.

I shiver, not from fear, but from… I’m not sure how to describe the feeling. A fluttering in my stomach, the hairs on the back of my neck lifting. A warm, comforting sensation spreading through my chest.

“Same,” I whisper.

When we enter the dining room five minutes later, the chatter stops, and every single person looks at us. Alexander’s gaze drops to where my hand is still inside Tobias’s, and his usual sharp gaze thaws. I think he’s happy. Although, as the gruffest of all the De Vil siblings, I find him both difficult to read and a little intimidating.

“Ah, there you are,” Charles says. “Just in time for dessert.”

Not a single person refers to Tobias’s uncharacteristic outburst or makes him feel terrible for storming out. Envy curls in my gut for the things I missed out on, first growing up and then when I married Marcus. I don’t begrudge anyone for being this lucky, I only wish I’d been as fortunate.

Tobias pulls out my chair for me, then takes his own. Once I’ve shuffled forward, he takes my hand again beneath the tablecloth, where no one can see. I’m unsure if it’s grounding him or if, like me, it feels right. Either way, I’m not complaining.

“I apologize for shouting,” Tobias says. “I’m not sure what came over me.”

“Damn.” Vicky slaps a hand on the table. “I owe Grace twenty quid. She said you’d apologize, and I said you wouldn’t because there’s nothing to apologize for.”

If I could, I’d race over there and kiss Vicky for saying the right thing at the right moment. I squeeze Tobias’s hand, and he squeezes back.

“Still, I shouldn’t have spoiled our dinner.”

“You haven’t spoiled anything,” Nicholas says. “Usually, it’s Xan spitting his dummy out over something or other. It makes a nice change for it to be another one of us.”

“Fuck off,” Alexander says.

Nicholas hits back with another retort, then Christian joins in, and the moment of awkwardness is forgotten.

After dessert, Tobias excuses us. We walk upstairs in silence. When we reach our floor, where my rooms are to the right, his to the left, he releases my hand.

“Thank you for tonight.”

“What are wives for?”