Twisted Luck

by Mia Downing

  ****

  Dinner with Samuel and my mother at his restaurant turned out to be a fake, festive affair, with forced smiles abound and many champagne toasts to relieve the tension. Well. Three of us faked it.

  My mother’s smiles were real as we celebrated my return to the workforce next week. Samuel shot daggers over his glass, and I couldn’t help shuddering at the unspoken warning. Guilt wrapped around my thoughts as I feared for my mother’s welfare. I’d have to find a way to up the ante in the sinning department to placate him.

  Mom talked endlessly about the wedding plans, and Samuel’s grump turned into a glow of satisfaction and triumph. He did like chocolate, so Mom was above and beyond happy with her arrangements.

  We also touched on the roommate aspect, which earned Leo hugs and smiles from my mother. He looked a little uncomfortable, and I toasted silently to that.

  Much later, leaving the restaurant hand-in-hand had felt decadently normal, but entering my apartment building was another story. I guess I should be happy he at least walked me to the door instead of blipping out in the parking garage. But a young couple had been talking softly in the corner against one of the cars. Maybe leaving in the hallway was less chancy.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow,” Leo said gruffly.

  He brushed a lock of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. That large palm cupped my cheek in a gesture that felt familiar, as if he’d done it a hundred times before. I wanted to lean into the warmth, but he pulled away. “Good night, Olivia.”

  “Good night.” It wasn’t eleven, but who knew if the magic had returned at the restaurant?

  He strode down the hall with that sauntering stride of his.

  And walked smack into a wall.

  I bit my lip against a snicker as he rubbed his nose and stared at the wall at the end of the hallway, confused.

  “Six to eleven,” I reminded him. “It’s only ten thirty.”

  “Damn you.” Glowering, he turned and hobbled back, pausing to rub his knee. I hid my smile as I fumbled with keys and let us in.

  “What do I do now?” Leo asked, his pocket change jingling in an unfamiliar rhythm as he followed me into the apartment.

  “What do you mean?” I tossed my keys in the bowl on the kitchen table.

  He shrugged, and his expression held bafflement. “I’ve never had a roommate. Or a home, per se. Not since my human years.”

  “Okay, we have a half hour.” I pointed to the living room. “Let’s have coffee. Then you’re free to go.”

  He wandered into my living room and strolled about, pausing to contemplate the two paintings that hung on the back wall as he had the first night. However, tonight he turned and asked, “Who’s the artist?”

  “I am.” I started making decaf in the Keurig, craning my neck with unease.

  He cocked his head, his hand on his chin as he studied first one painting and then the other. The two were local scenes, one a lighthouse, the other a nearby lake with some farmland. I had no clue if he thought they were any good, but I enjoyed them. But then, demons seemed to like the finest of everything. My mother had mentioned something about Leo buying and selling priceless art and antiques for Weston Enterprises. I steeled myself for unwanted honesty.

  “You’ve had no training.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Just some art classes.” His scrutiny made me stir in creamer with more vigor than usual.

  Finally, he turned to me, his expression unreadable. “You have natural talent. If you took the time, you could be quite good.”

  “Thank you.” The compliment brought a rush of warmth to my face. I wanted to ask questions about his thoughts but didn’t dare. “You want some coffee?”

  “Please.” He returned to sit at my table, his dark eyes brooding. “So.”

  “So.” I presented both cups, an idea forming as I set them down along with cream and sugar. “Let’s play twenty questions.”

  “Seriously?” He added a little more cream to his coffee, tasted it, made a face, and reached for the sugar.

  “Ever play?”

  “Umm, no.” That air of confidence returned. “I’m a demon. Not many humans truly wish to get to know me.”

  “Oh, boo-hoo.”

  “It wasn’t a call for sympathy. In the work I do, the less a human knows, the better.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. “Is that a warning?”

  “No, I own you. You’re fair game.” The grandiose wave of his hand invited me to ask away.

  I hid my discomfort by shifting my cup in my palms. I didn’t want to know him, either. But I had little choice. My gaze met his, viewing him for the first time without his full magical power. I had no anger or lust burning inside me. He was just an inquisitive, sexy man, sitting at my kitchen table, enjoying coffee.

  I straightened my shoulders, vowing to seize the moment. Maybe something good would come from my questions. “Favorite color.”

  “Cerulean blue.” His lips quirked with amusement as I blinked with surprise. “Not what you expected to hear?”

  “Umm, no. Guys aren’t usually that detailed.”

  “I used to paint.” He shrugged. “And yours?”

  I couldn’t picture perfect Leo covered in blobs of paint. He didn’t have the patience for being dirty or waiting for paint to dry. “I like azure blue better.”

  He cocked his head. “But you wear mostly black.”

  Unnerving that he noticed. “Colors make you stand out. Black blends in a crowd.” I cleared my throat as I took in the delicious brown of his suit. “Next question. Do you plan your own attire, or does the magic handle that?”

  His brows rose in surprise. “I plan it. I go and get fitted every year or so to update my wardrobe. The magic only dresses me.”

  “And where do you store all of that?”

  “Magic takes care of that, too, but I do have a house. I told you that.”

  Well, color me shocked. “And you’re living with me?”

  “For appearances,” he reminded. “I don’t even live in my own house. As I’ve said, I work constantly.”

  “Okay.” Stumped, I stared, and my active imagination rolled, picturing his house. Well, his bed. Lavish satin sheets gracing an ornate bed, granite floors, and in the bathroom, a marble tub large enough for an orgy—

  “My question,” he reminded me.

  I snapped to attention, shaking my head to clear the naughty images of me in his sudsy tub.

  He sipped his coffee, contemplating me over the rim. “Which sexual position do you want to try next?”

  An instant flash of lust and mortification mixed in my belly. “The point of this is to have something to discuss with my mother. Sexual positions aren’t a point in family conversation.”

  A huge sigh filtered from his fine lips as his stomach growled. “Then what’s your favorite food.”

  “You’re hungry again?”

  “Apparently.”

  The pink remained on my cheeks, heating them under his sharp gaze. I played with my spoon. “Peanut butter and jelly.”

  His brows creased in deep thought. “I don’t think I’ve had that.”

  “No, probably not, considering where you usually dine. I ate it a lot as a kid, but it’s comfort food for me.” I recalled his look of longing as he remembered the meat pies his mother made. “What’s yours? And keep it clean.”

  However, instead of blurting out something obscene, that faraway look returned to his eyes. “Toast.”

  I’d expected shrimp or caviar, or a return to the meat pies, not a simple breakfast food. “Toast?”

  “With butter. Browned over the fire.” His stomach growled again, and he snapped to the here and now. “Make me some.”

  How could he be hungry again after the meal he’d just eaten? “I don’t have a fire to brown it over, though I do have butter.”

  He waved away that fact with a brush of his hand. “However you make it is fine.”

  I rose to make toast, of
all things. “So where is your home, in case my mother asks?”

  “Tell her it’s outside Paris. That’s easier, since we don’t have a Weston Enterprises office in Italy.”

  “You’re Italian? Is Samuel Italian, too?” I glanced over my shoulder in surprise.

  Shrugging, he picked up his cup. “I believe so, which is how we pass for father and son.”

  “Then you’re not really related.” I turned as I waited for the toast to brown.

  “Well, yes. He made me, so to speak.”

  I blinked. Stone had more expression and feeling than Leo did at this moment. “And that means…”

  “He bought my contract from another demon when I was sent to Hell. He tortured me for eons until I thought I could take no more, and then he offered me a chance to become what I am today.” His expressionless gaze met mine. “So in a sense, he is more father than anyone else has been for me—except one.”

  I wanted to say, Fathers don’t torture you. However, I knew the truth. We had a lot more in common than I realized, and instead of that giving me the warm fuzzies, I had a bottomless pit of angst growing in my stomach.

  The toast popped, and I busied myself with the butter, the knife shaking in my hands. I’d hoped Leo was merely a disgruntled employee with an ax to grind, making this quest of Babu’s that much easier to accomplish. I had been so wrong. Loving me would not change him.

  “I sold my soul, Olivia. Just like you.” His voice was soft yet matter of fact. “I deserved whatever he handed over and then some. Just because I’ve grown into something else doesn’t excuse me from that debt.”

  I laid the knife down. “Haven’t you paid enough?”

  A fleeting note of sadness crinkled the corners of his mouth. “I’ll never pay enough.”

  Nodding—though I didn’t understand—I picked up the plate and set it in front of him. “Don’t you want to be more than Samuel’s right hand man?”

  “No.” He picked up a slice and shot me a glance. “I’m out of coffee. So are you, or I’d take yours.”

  “Humans ask nicely for things, Leo.”

  Rolling his eyes, he murmured, “Please.”

  I snatched his cup and turned to the coffee machine. “So you like being Samuel’s assistant.”

  Behind me, he bit into the crispy toast, the crunching mingling with his moan of delight. “Great woodchucks, this is wonderful.” He chewed voraciously, but somehow, not a crumb landed on his suit. “I’m not his assistant. I’m second in command.”

  I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking about the duke of Hell aspect linked to his cufflinks. “So what do demons aspire to be?”

  He contemplated some invisible crumbs on his suit. He finally shrugged. “To be Samuel’s level, there’s a certain…skill set required.”

  The way he paused on “skill set” tossed a red flag for me. I unfroze myself and turned to set down his newly-filled coffee cup. “And you’re not interested.”

  “No. Samuel knows this. It’s why I’m allowed the liberties I enjoy.” Before I could even ask, Leo murmured, “It involves torture and human blood, Olivia. A lot of it.”

  Despite my wish to remain nonjudgmental, I shuddered. I whirled to hide it, busying myself with making another cup of coffee. He’d said before I should be glad he owned my soul. I was starting to see why. “You mentioned before you didn’t like blood.”

  “No.”

  “How did you make it this far, then?”

  “There are ways to get what you want without spilling blood.” He took another huge bite and chewed for a bit. “I’ll need more toast. I’m hungry.”

  “Good for you.” I didn’t move to do his bidding.

  He sighed. “Please.”

  Oddly proud, I turned and made more. “You think the lack of magic is making you this hungry?”

  “I guess. I don’t like it.” He licked his fingers clean.

  “You’re going to have to chip in for groceries at this rate.”

  “It will only be one meal every day,” he reminded me. “If it’s from six to eleven.”

  “You ate dinner like a ravenous T. Rex. I can’t afford a side of cow for every meal.” I handed him more buttered toast. “It’s almost eleven, so hopefully, the magic will turn on again and stop the hunger.” I hoped, since I only had two slices of bread left.

  He devoured the toast, licked his fingers, and chased it with the fresh cup of coffee. For a moment, he looked almost as happy and satisfied as he did after sex. Almost.

  “I’m ready to go to work.” He rose.

  “Good.” I was ready for a glass of wine and a break from all the stuff spinning in my brain. I followed him down the hallway.

  He halted in front of the door and turned to me, brushing that errant lock of hair from my cheek. “Thank you for the toast.”

  “That was better at being polite.” My skin still tingled from his brief touch.

  “Demons aren’t polite. It’s best you remember that.” He hesitated. And leaned in to brush his lips over mine. He tasted of buttery coffee, and I longed to lean into him, to savor the return of his palm on my cheek as he cupped it.

  But instead, he pulled away and smiled, the warmth of it spearing me in the stomach. “I’ll see you at six tomorrow.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I shut the door behind Leo and leaned on it, glad to be done with this day. So much to think about, and unfortunately, I did my best thinking right before I went to sleep.

  A sharp, angry knock vibrated the door, and I turned to peer out the peephole. A distorted, brown eye stared back.

  “Olivia,” Leo warned. “Open up.”

  I opened the door to find Leo standing there with both hands in his pockets, looking every inch dark, dangerous, and pissed. “You hadn’t bolted the door?”

  “I would have before bed.”

  He frowned as he brushed past me. “You should have immediately. I have an investment to protect.”

  I folded my arms over my chest, not even wanting to touch that comment. “What do you want?”

  “This isn’t funny, Olivia.” Leo glowered. “By grounding me here, making me a ‘roommate’ and taking my magic, you’re hampering my business deals throughout the world.”

  “What are you talking about? I didn’t ground you. It’s eleven. There’s the door.” I gestured to it. “Go forth and use your magic. Make your acquisitions.”

  The glower intensified. “I can’t.”

  I paused in mid-removal of my other earring. “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. I think because you deemed me your boyfriend until the wedding. I just…can’t.” He shrugged and looked helpless. “Maybe the luck didn’t hear that it was eleven, and that I could leave. Give me permission.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Dear good luck, I give Leo permission to leave my house and use magic.”

  Leo closed his eyes, his face screwed up like he was constipated. His eyes flew open and flared anew with fresh anger. “Damn you.”

  “I’m already damned.” I pointed to the door. “Try going outside.”

  He brushed past me, back out into the hallway, the door banging shut behind him. Silence followed, and I figured he’d departed for wherever, but the murmur of voices followed by a knock blew that theory out of the water.

  I opened the door, and Leo rushed back in.

  “I had to talk to your nosy neighbor.” Hi change jingled with angry fervor. “I don’t even want to discuss what mars that woman’s soul.”

  “She’s not so bad. Just don’t invite her into the house.” I’d made that mistake once.

  Leo placed a hand on my shoulder, turning me. I couldn’t take offense, because his touch was very gentle. “I don’t like this. What am I supposed to do?”

  I didn’t like this, either. I didn’t want him around all the time. I wanted to drink wine and read a book. After recovering from being stupidly, foolishly in love with David, I had discovered that I liked my quiet time. Plus, I had evil things to plot
that concerned Leo. Damn the magic for making him my roommate for the evening.

  I shrugged. “Get undressed, get ready for bed, and go to sleep. We can figure it out tomorrow.”

  He blinked rapidly and looked like a little boy who had lost his way, complete with jutting lower lip. Way, way too sexy with the stubble. “But my work.”

  “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

  “You owe me wicked, dirty sex for this.”

  “I don’t owe you a damned thing.” I started down the hallway, kicking out of my shoes.

  Behind me, Leo stumbled over my heels, and a burst of forbidden pleasure shot through me.

  I rounded the corner into my room, and I slammed the door in Leo’s face. “Good night.”

  The door banged open just as I started to reach for the back of my dress.

  Warm, masculine hands settled on my bare shoulders, easing down the zipper. He kissed a path as the flesh was revealed, sending tingles down my spine. “I’m not sleeping there. This is much, much better.”

  I spun, not wanting to give in to his seduction. The rush of desire would not be something I’d get used to easily. My nipples pebbled under my bra, aching for his hands to return. I blushed to the roots of my hair and waved him away. “Go get ready for bed. I’m going to take a shower.”

  “A shower.” He cocked his head, and his gaze stripped me bare, sending a rush of fresh moisture straight to my core. “Is yours big enough for two?”

  I rolled my bottom lip with my teeth at the idea of another kind of forbidden pleasure. “Do you like shower sex?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never had it. But I’ve seen it in porn.” He removed his jacket and hung it neatly on the handle of my closet. “Come to think of it, I don’t even think I’ve ever taken a shower.”

  “Seriously.” Of course, he’d seen porn. But not showering…

  “No.” He fumbled with his tie. “Magic takes care of cleanliness.”

  “How did you get clean as a human?”

  He scrunched up his face as if delving into memories. “I bathed in a stream. Or a tub.”

  “Well, you’ll need to learn how to shower.” I licked my dry lips and abandoned the shyness as the spiral of lust became too heady to ignore. I hadn’t gotten to explore Leo much, and the idea of running a bar of soap over all of those hard muscles made my knees weak. “And shave.”