The Devil’s Beauty
©2016 by Airicka Phoenix
All rights reserved.
www.AirickaPhoenix.com
This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the copyright owner and/or the publisher of this book, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Cover Designer: Airicka’s Mystical Creations
Interior Design: Airicka Phoenix
Editor & Formatter: Katherine Eccleston
ISBN-13: 978-1492367321
ISBN-10: 149236732X
Published by Airicka Phoenix
Also available in eBook and paperback publication.
Also by Airicka Phoenix
TOUCH SAGA
Touching Smoke
Touching Fire
Touching Eternity
THE LOST GIRL SERIES
Finding Kia
Revealing Kia
REGENERATION SERIES
When Night Falls
THE BABY SAGA
Forever His Baby
Bye-Bye Baby
Be My Baby
Always Yours, Baby
SONS OF JUDGMENT SAGA
Octavian’s Undoing
Gideon’s Promise
CRIME LORD INTERCONNECTED SERIES
Transcending Darkness
STANDALONE
Games of Fire
Betraying Innocence
The Voyeur Next Door
My Soul For You
Kissing Trouble
ANTHOLOGY
Whispered Beginnings: A Clever Fiction Anthology
Midnight Surrender Anthology
Dedication
To all the girls who have ever loved a devil.
.
Chapter One
“There is still time to run, Ava.” The silk sash hissed as the precise knot was formed at the base of Ava’s spine. “Seriously, I’ll even get the getaway car. Just say the words.”
The offer was sweet and nothing less than what she would have expected from her eccentric and dramatic best friend.
“I’m fine.” She turned to the six-foot man watching her with the look most people got when going to the funeral of a loved one. “Really, you can stop worrying.”
Robert Rachiele pursed his lips. The muscles in his rugged jaw flexed with his uncertainty. His eyes, the soft color of damp grass, searched hers, flicking back and forth in morbid dejection. Any moment, she expected him to take her hand, pat it apologetically, and tell her he was sorry for her loss.
“I just feel like you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”
“How is that possible?” She ducked around him quickly and moved to the velvet settee holding the rest of her outfit. “It’s not like I’m getting married to the guy. It’s only dinner.”
“A birthday dinner … with your parents,” he added with a disgusted twist of his lips. “That’s kind of a big deal, Avs.”
“How?”
“It’s dinner with your parents,” he repeated with great emphasis on each word. “And not just your parents. Everyone you know is downstairs. Lord knows what they’ll think of all this. They’re going to get the wrong idea.”
She flicked back a coil of auburn off her pale shoulder and twisted her chin over to glance back at him. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. We’ve been together six whole months. I care about him.”
“And that’s the problem. You care about him.”
Snatching up her Jimmy Choos pumps in an elegant black, Ava turned back with them in hand. She balanced against the sofa with her hip and worked them onto her manicured feet.
“That makes no sense.”
“Yeah, it does. You care for him. I care for toilet paper, but I wouldn’t invite it to dinner.”
Ava shot him a disgusted glower. “That is a horrible analogy.”
“Maybe, but…” He knelt in front of her and helped with the straps. A wisp of pale gold flopped over his brow. “You’re not supposed to care about the guy you’re introducing to your parents. You’re supposed to love and adore him. You’re supposed to want him with a passion that leaves you breathless and a desire that makes you feel crazy if you don’t make him yours forever.” Task complete, he rose. His gray suit rustled. “I know you don’t feel that way about Patrick the Dick.”
“Of course I do!” She swatted at him. “And don’t call him that. Besides, I’m not really introducing him to my parents. John Paul is the one who introduced us.”
She twisted towards the mirror and busied her sweaty, trembling hands down the soft front of her sleeveless cocktail dress. The slinky material hugged the dips and hills of her curves in an elegant sweep. Lace panels lined the sides and the back, leaving the wearer no choice but to forgo undergarments. The mini hem clasped around her bare thighs, leaving her long, limber limbs exposed all the way to where the straps on her shoes began. Robby had done her hair. He’d scooped the heavy, auburn strands into a chic knot at the back of her neck. In all, she looked ready to attend a dinner party commemorating the start of what she hoped was her new life.
“I’m not trying to tell you this is a bad idea, but…” Robby set a tender hand on her shoulder. “Baby girl, this is a very bad idea.”
“It is not.” Drawing in a breath, Ava faced him. “I need to do this, Robby. Patrick isn’t … he’s not…” she broke off, realizing there was no way to fully explain the exact reason why Patrick was imperfectly perfect for her. “He’s good for me. He’s dependable and safe, and he has a good, strong future ahead of him.”
Robby’s eyes narrowed. His eyebrow lifted even as she stopped talking.
“Are you getting a man or a golden retriever? This is insane, Ava!”
“It’s not insane,” she protested, feeling the anxiety she’d been wielding back beginning to make a steady climb back up her chest in a molten flood of regret. “It’s only dinner, for Christ sakes. I’m not eloping with the guy. He’s been to John Paul’s parties before. Only now he’s going with me.” She paused to catch her breath and calm down. “Please, Robby. I am begging you to please just … do this with me. I really need you to have my back.”
He exhaled. His arms crossed over a magnificent chest, straining the sleeves of his green top around his bulging biceps. His nostrils gave an indignant twitch she recognized as a win for her before he let his arms drop back down at his sides and shook his head.
“Fine, but it’s under severe protest.”
She threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you.”
His shoulders rose and dropped. Hot breath that smelled of chocolate and mint bathed the side of her neck.
“I’ll never stop having your back, Avs,” he murmured. “But I really just … I wish you’d reconsider this.”
She pulled away from him and stalked to the high windows overlooking the gardens. The night was dismal. An angry knot of clouds had settled over the estate, occasionally spitting at the glass as though agreeing with Robby about her bad decisions. But what did it know? What did any of them know? How could they ever understand just how important tonight was?
“Everything is going to change with this party,” she told her weary reflection.
It stared back at her, doubtful, forlorn, slightly exhausted, a hollow little girl locked behind a sheet of damp glass. But there was determination in the tension of her shoulders, in the set line of her mouth. She would go into the fight and she would win, or die trying.
“All right.” Robby’s reflection joined hers in the dark pane. “Let’s go make bad choices.”
Ava faced him, moved by the strength of his friendship. It was the one thing she knew with an absolute certainty that rivaled all else. No matter what turn her life took, Robby had always been a constant. For that, she would move heaven and earth for him in return. She would kill for him without hesitation. There was no doubt in her mind of that.
She set her hand on his forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I love you,” she told him.
An eyebrow lifted. “Just how much bail money am I going to have to come up with for tonight?”
Ava wrinkled her nose. “That’s not what I meant.”
“You’re right.” He puffed out a dramatic breath. “I’m just going to be in there with you anyway. We might need to bring John Paul into this. He’s the one with deep pockets.”
She rolled her eyes and started to turn away.
He caught her hand, stopping her. “I love you, too, turd.”
Her laugh tangled with his. “How could I ever doubt it? Come on.” She squeezed his fingers. “Let’s get this over with.”
Mood slightly lifted, Ava tugged him through the doors of her childhood bedroom. His wide strides had to be shortened to accommodate her dainty, restricted ones, but they made their way down to the lavish main floor of her mother’s extravagant estate. The low hum of chatter and music drifted up the grand staircase in a steady stream. Ava had spent the majority of her youth descending those very steps to that very sound. It was as familiar to her as her own heartbeat. The only difference was her own lack of enthusiasm. It wasn’t very often she brought a man home. The only one that ever had that honor was Robby. Ava wasn’t in the habit of jumping the gun and being proven wrong. Patrick would never have seen the inside of the Morel foyer if it weren’t important.
“You ready for this?”
Ava glanced at her best friend, at the beautiful lines that made his perfect features, and exhaled. “As I’ll ever be.”
He extended her his elbow and she accepted it with a clammy hand. Together, they descended into the crowd.
Built in the nineteenth century, the structure was a glorious splendor of Tudor and Goth architecture that had been upgraded as the era had changed. As a little girl, Ava had felt like a princess walking through the maze of ivory, marble, and gleaming wood. Every bend, nook, and cranny had been an adventure and she had gone wild with her imagination. There wasn’t a cupboard she hadn’t explored, no curtain that hadn’t been utilized as a cape. She had loved that house with a passion most ten year olds would have shown a new doll. She still did. It was her sacred haven. The place nothing bad could ever touch her. Not because of its ten-foot-high privacy walls, or iron gates. It was because of the man who owned it. The only other person besides Robby who had ever loved her simply because.
He stood with her mother amongst a sea of faces, a dashing sight in his form fitting tux, bow tie, and gold cufflinks. His once dark hair had begun to streak with gray at the temples and there were deep creases fanning out at the corners of his golden eyes, but John Paul was as handsome now as he had been all those years ago when she’d first met him in the open doorway of that very house. He’d been wearing slacks then and a heavy, wool sweater in gunmetal gray. He had stood there, snow drifting down around them, eyes contemplative as he studied her, this wary little thing in a red coat. She remembered thinking he was about to tell her what all her mother’s … friends, had told her, why don’t you go along and explore. Even as a nine-year-old, she had known what that meant; she wasn’t wanted around. But John Paul had narrowed his eyes, then, to her surprise, he’d knelt down so they were eyelevel.
“You must be Ava.” He’d extended her one slender hand, palm open, long fingers stretched to her. “I’ve been expecting you.”
He’d taken her inside, helped her out of her coat, and spent that entire afternoon talking to her. No one had ever done that. She had never been the center of anyone’s attention. But he had made her feel like maybe she really mattered.
She’d loved him ever since.
Next to him was her mother, a dainty thing in a poppy red Armani. Her auburn curls were pulled back from her pixie features to show off the cluster of diamonds circling her delicate throat and dripping from her ears. She hung on John Paul’s arm while they chatted to the couple Ava didn’t recognize. Whatever the conversation was about, her mother looked thrilled. John Paul mildly amused.
“I’m going to find Patrick,” she told Robby. “He should have arrived—”
“Ava!”
The man in question broke out of the crowd, the picture perfect imitation of success in his designer tux and artistically styled hair. He peered at Ava with a smile that could have doubled as spotlights. Each tooth glinted with its own light and drew the eye to the dimples indenting either side of his cleanly shaven face and the hard cut of his slanted jaw.
There was very little not perfect about him. At a glance, he was a specimen of a man, fit, gorgeous, rich, and influential. His father owned one of the largest boxed desserts companies in the north, or neatly packaged diabetes, as Charlotte liked to call it, and Patrick was set to take over the moment his father stepped down. Ambition and unwavering drive were the backbones of Patrick’s entire existence.
“There you are. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me.” Blue eyes the perfect shade of a summer sky darted to Robby. “Rachiele.”
Robby said nothing, but the look on his face stated very clearly that he wished Patrick had been run over by a car, or a herd of elephants.
“Sorry,” Ava said. “I was just getting ready.” She looked him over. “You look very nice.”
Patrick tugged on the lapel of his coat. “Bought this new for the occasion.” He gave her a grin that suggested they shared some intimate secret. “Wanted to look my best.”
“It’s very lovely.”
Pleased, Patrick glanced at Robby once more. He looked the other man over, taking in the dark jeans, the boots that had seen better days, and the faded, green t-shirt with surprised interest.
“Robby doesn’t do tuxes,” Ava explained.
That only seemed to make Patrick uncomfortable. He shifted on the spot and quickly glanced away.
“It’s a really good turn out,” he decided. “I thought I saw the mayor earlier.”
“Probably.” Ava chuckled. “He and John Paul play golf on the weekends sometimes.”
Patrick cleared his throat. He tugged at his lapel again, but with less finesse.
“So, do you know all these people?”
She glanced at the familiar faces around them and nodded. “Most of them.”
That only seemed to amplify his nervousness. His fidgeting increased. The restless shuffling from foot to foot was beginning to make her sweat.
“Is something wrong?”
His palms made a sweaty, squeaky sound when he rubbed them together. “No, I’ve just never been this close to so many important people.” He flashed her a pained smile that only intensified her unease. “It’s a bit nerve wracking.”
For Ava, she’d been around influential people all her life. It wasn’t uncommon for the mayor to stop in for supper or some foreign diplomate to spend the night. The novelty of it had never affected her. But she could see how it could make someone as ambitious as Patrick sweat.
“It’ll be all right,” she assured him. “You’ll see.”
“Haven’t you been to a hundred of these things?” Robby cut in.
Patrick flushed. “Yes, but not … not like this.” His blue eyes shifted to Ava and back. “Feels different.”
Releasing Robby, Ava slid up next to Patrick and touched his arm. It was mea
nt to reassure, but he jumped like she’d waved a live snake in his face. The unexpected jolt had her snatching her hand back.
“Sorry! Christ. I’m so sorry! I don’t … I don’t know why I did that.”
Not willing to risk another slap down, Ava didn’t reach for him again. But she offered him a comforting smile.
“Why don’t we get some drinks? Calm our nerves?”
“Not me,” Robby muttered. “I’m going to find the food.” He turned his gaze to Ava. “You’ll be all right?”
Assuring him she’d be fine, Ava waved him off, waited until he was out of sight before facing Patrick.
“We don’t have to do this,” she told him. “It really isn’t anyone’s business anyway.”
He looked so miserable that she couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. He reminded her of a beaten dog and all she wanted to do was pet his head and tell him he was such a good boy. That was probably not the type of reaction a girlfriend was supposed to have when their man was in the dumps, but she really was no better at all this than he was.
“No, I’m all right.” He straightened his shoulders and peered around the room. “Did you want to make the rounds, or…?”
Ava was trying to make up her mind when her mother caught sight of them in the doorway and her expression blossomed into one of pure delight.
“There she is!” Her mother’s girlish squeal cut into the hum of chatter like a butcher’s blade. It made everyone give a jolt of surprise.
She broke away from John Paul and drifted over to them with a grace that always gave the impression she was floating inches off the floor. Her pale arms shot out and closed around Ava’s neck in a suffocating embrace of woman and floral perfume.
“You look beautiful, darling!” Charlotte breathed, pulling back to inspect the dress she herself had picked out for the evening. “I just knew that dress was for you.”
The Devil's Beauty (Crime Lord Interconnected Standalone Book 2) Page 1