The Devil She Knows (19 page)

According to the information, Dev had been married to a woman named Natalie Ford for the past eight years. There was even a picture of his marriage license with the bold slash of his handwriting clearly identifiable. At least, to anyone who knew him well. To her.

“How? What...?” Thoughts were racing around inside her head so fast she couldn’t grab on to them. How could she not know that he was married? He didn’t wear a ring, not even the pale band of one recently removed.

And then a memory flashed across her brain. That night. In her kitchen. The name of the woman who’d called him was Natalie.

The bastard had gone straight from sex with her to talking to his damn wife. And he hadn’t even blinked.

Part of Willow wanted to be awed by his audacity. It took a hell of a lot of balls to do something like that with calm, cool indifference. But she was just pissed. Hurt. Betrayed beyond words.

God, she was an idiot. He’d used her. Taken the opportunity to get a taste of what circumstances had denied him ten years ago. He’d picked up the pieces and finished the game they’d been playing back then, finally getting what he wanted. Her.

And she’d let him. She’d made it easy, barely putting up a fight. Not even after the masks were off. She’d practically fallen into his bed, panting and begging.

Devlin Warwick had pulled her right down into the dirt with him. Rose might have screwed up his life—if he’d even told her the truth about that—but he’d managed to return the favor in spades. Only this time it was her life falling to pieces.

Willow groaned, dropping her head against the back of the chair. What was everyone going to think? She could just imagine the looks she was going to get. Disappointment. Horror. Disgust.

And she’d deserve every veiled glare and whisper. This is what happened when good girls did bad things—like picking up a masked stranger at a party and letting him take her to bed.

Unfortunately, knowing that didn’t stop it from hurting.

She’d believed him. Trusted him. Fallen in love with him.

And the whole time he was lying to her. Playing with her. Feeding her whatever lines he had to in order to get into her expensive panties.

Tears collected at the corners of her lashes. She tried to hold them back but couldn’t quite manage it.

Her chest ached, as if someone was slowly crushing her.

She’d survived his betrayal once before. She wasn’t sure she could do it again.

Back then she’d thought she loved him. But it had been the soft, idealistic, fairy-tale infatuation of youth. She hadn’t really known him or understood who he was.

This time, she saw beneath the dark, indifferent mask he showed the world. Even as he’d lied, he’d let her see. Let himself be vulnerable.

And maybe that’s what hurt the worst. With his words and his mouth and his eyes he’d convinced her to let go. To trust her body instead of her head. To take a leap with him.

Just so he could watch her fall.

13

“I
’M TRYING REALLY
hard not to think of you as a bastard right now, Warwick. I’m seriously hoping there’s a decent explanation for what’s going on.”

Brett Newcomb’s harsh voice rang through Dev’s ears, but his brain was still half asleep and unable to process what the man was talking about.

Waiting for Willow to come home, he’d settled onto the sofa with his laptop to catch up on some design work for another project they were bidding on. Apparently, he’d fallen asleep on the sofa. The loud burst of his cell phone had vaulted him out of a fitful sleep.

Dev scrubbed a hand down his face, trying to wake himself up. What few brain cells he did have functioning were busy spinning on why Willow wasn’t home and not on whatever Brett was growling about. He was already pushing up from the sofa and searching for his keys so that he could drive down to the studio and check on her.

She’d told him she’d only be a couple more hours and that was at nine. It was now past midnight.

But Brett’s next words stopped him midstride. “You’re married.”

Panic hit him hard, churning deep in his belly. “How do you know that?”

“So you don’t deny it?”

Oh, shit. If Brett Newcomb knew then Willow did. He had to find her. Explain.

“Dammit!”

“Not the response I was looking for, asshole.”

“Where is she?”

“I’m not telling you a damn thing.”

Dev didn’t have time to argue with Newcomb, he’d worry about repairing that relationship later. Right now he couldn’t care less about the Consortium job. He needed to find Willow.

And the most logical place to start was her studio.

Not even bothering to grab a jacket, Dev raced to his truck and tore down the street, not caring if he woke the entire neighborhood.

He skidded into the parking lot, part of him relieved to find several cars there, including Willow’s. Although that meant she wasn’t alone and that he’d probably have to get through her friends first.

The door to her studio was standing wide-open. Willow sat in a chair, staring at a computer screen. Three of her friends surrounded her, their posture and expressions protective as they glared at him.

“You need to leave,” one of them said. The two others shifted, blocking Willow behind them.

“Willow. Let me explain.”

The chair beneath her squeaked as she shifted. In the small gap between her two friends he could see a single pale blue eye.

He stared at her, begging with his eyes even as he tried to find the right words to make her listen.

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice low and scratchy. Regret twisted through him. He’d done that to her. Made her hurt. And he hated himself for it, but there was nothing he could do now but try to fix it.

One of her friends looked down at her, sympathy and affection in her expression. “Are you sure? We’ll make him leave if you want.”

“No. I need to hear what he has to say.”

The resignation and finality in her words made his heart sink.

Slowly, the three women filed passed him, their daggered glares probably meant to hurt him. But he didn’t care what any of them thought. He only cared what Willow thought.

“We’ll be right outside.”

“Gage and Brett could be here in less than five minutes if you need them.”

A weak smile touched Willow’s lips. “I don’t think so. I know how both of your men respond to threats, and beating the shit out of him won’t solve anything.”

“Maybe not, but it’d make me feel better,” one of them said, cracking her knuckles in a way that told him she was no stranger to defending herself.

When they were finally alone, Dev cleared his throat and swallowed. Stalling while he tried to find the right words that would make everything okay.

Until this moment—the imminent possibility that he was going to lose Willow—he hadn’t realized just how much he needed her. Cared about her.

“Is it true?”

He wet his lips and prayed. “Yes, technically I’m still married, but it’s a mistake.”

“You better believe it is.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.”

He walked closer, trying to gauge whether she was truly listening with an open mind or if she’d already convicted him of the crime she thought he’d committed.

And that’s really what he was afraid of. Was this ten years ago all over again? Would she believe the worst of him no matter what he said? Would she throw him out just like his grandfather had done?

“Until a few months ago Natalie and I both thought we’d been divorced for six years. Our paperwork got screwed up and we only found out about it when she filed for a new marriage license. We’re fixing it.”

Dev waited, his lungs burning with the need for oxygen, his body unable to do anything but watch for some sign of Willow’s reaction.

Silence stretched between them. Her eyes bored into his. Her skin blanched pale and then flooded with color again.

Slowly, her tongue swiped across her bottom lip, leaving a slick trail that even now his body wanted him to lean in and taste.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You believe me?”

She swallowed, the long column of her throat working, and then she nodded.

All the tension leaked out of his body. He closed his eyes and blew out the breath that had been stuck. Thank God. Finally, someone believed him.

But when he opened his eyes again the tears glistening in hers had it all rushing back.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked again and he realized he wasn’t completely out of the woods yet.

“Because at first I didn’t think it mattered. Natalie’s been my ex-wife for years, Willow. The piece of paper we’re missing is a legality and nothing more. Our marriage was a mistake we both made when we were too stupid and young to realize what we were doing. I don’t think about it—or her—and sure as hell not when I’m with you.”

Her mouth twisted. “Thanks for that, at least.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She called you. The other night. I was naked in your lap and you picked me up, put me down and walked away to answer her call.”

Dev’s mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. He wanted to ask her how she knew that, but had enough brain power to realize that was a quick way to get his ass kicked...and she wouldn’t even need the help of the muscle waiting in the wings.

“I’ve only spoken to Natalie through our lawyer for years. Until a few months ago I didn’t even know how to get in touch with her, but she insisted our lawyer give her my number. I was shocked when her name popped up on my phone, Willow. I was afraid something had happened.”

“What did she want?”

“The address of a mutual friend for her wedding invitations.”

Willow stared at him for several seconds and then a burst of laughter escaped from her parted lips. And just kept going. She dissolved into it, letting her head drop down onto her crossed arms even as her sides heaved with the need for air.

Dev stared at her, unsure exactly what to do or say. Finally, she raised her head, looking at him through the sheen of laughter and tears.

“Seriously. She wanted an address for wedding invitations?” Her voice quivered at the word
wedding,
as if she was in danger of melting into mad laughter again.

Eventually, she found solid ground and the laughter disappeared as quickly as it had come.

She looked up at him and something shifted. A shield he hadn’t seen her wear since that night in the alley slipped back down. Instead of his passionate lover, the cool, reserved businesswoman sat in front of him.

Alarm jittered through him. “I thought you said you believed me.”

“I do.” Her voice went soft, full of an apology he didn’t want. “But I’m not sure it really matters.”

“What do you mean? Of course it matters.”

“We both knew this couldn’t last. It was heady and dangerous. A return to a past we both needed to put to rest.”

Anger boiled inside him, pushing away the anxiety he didn’t want to recognize. “That’s bullshit.”

“Dev, you make me do things I wouldn’t normally do. Break my own rules. I can’t keep acting this way. There are consequences. My business has been ransacked and my reputation left in tatters. And for what? Stellar sex?”

A sickening knot formed in the pit of his belly. She was pushing him away. Telling him to get lost. That he wasn’t good enough for her precious, perfect life.

He stared at her and felt his throat begin to close. Emotions he thought had been long buried—insecurity, doubt, misery—reared up inside. Immediately he was that little boy everyone dismissed and judged. The rebellious teenager expected to fail. The young man his own grandfather hadn’t even wanted around.

Everything inside him began to shut down, the familiar numbness of the protective wall seeping in.

No. He ground his teeth together and clenched his fists at his sides.

He would not let anyone, not even Willow, take his self-respect. He’d fought too hard to win it back, to find his place in the world. Where he belonged and what he was good at.

He had a successful business and a good education. He’d fought tooth and nail for everything and was grateful for the struggle because it meant he appreciated what he had.

Willow Portis didn’t want him in her life. Fine. He refused to stay where he wasn’t wanted. Or beg. He’d survived the damage one Portis sister had done, surely he could survive the other.

* * *

F
OUR DAYS LATER,
back in his life in Atlanta, he was failing miserably. Until he’d walked away from Willow, he would have said that nothing could have been more painful than leaving Sweetheart the first time.

He’d have been wrong.

And it wasn’t just about Willow. Somehow the entire damn town had wormed its way back into his good graces. He missed the place. The nosy busybodies who’d stopped him on the street to threaten him about hurting Willow. Knowing everyone.

Hell, he’d lived in his house for four years and didn’t even know his neighbors’ names. And until two weeks ago that hadn’t bothered him. It did now.

The pub, the diner, that damn club and the sense of belonging he hadn’t wanted to feel but couldn’t stop.

Everyone in his office was walking on eggshells. He knew they were talking behind his back, speculating about what had happened in Sweetheart to leave him prowling the hallways like a wounded bear.

Today he’d barked at Gladys, the sixty-year-old grandmother he’d hired to answer his phones. Everyone loved Gladys. She baked chocolate chip cookies for the office every Friday.

Her eyes had gone steely and her mouth had thinned, but she hadn’t reprimanded him even though he’d definitely deserved it. He’d growled an apology at her, feeling guilty that he hadn’t been able to manage anything more. He’d give her an extra day off instead.

It had been easy to bury himself in work, throwing all of his focus at the projects and bids he’d neglected while he was out of town. He had plenty of competent people to handle most of it, although if he didn’t cool it he was going to lose all of them.

Pushing himself to the point of exhaustion so that he could fall into bed and shut off his mind was one thing. Demanding his employees act like they didn’t have lives outside the office was another.