Page 58 of Devils Don’t Deal

The devil snapped his fingers, and a sheaf of papers appeared in his hand. “Yes. You may work at the store, but not in your current position. Would you like to take over a position in the janitorial sector? I believe you’d be a phenomenal toilet washer.”

Mr. Fern sputtered and huffed then grabbed his contract, ripped it in half, turned, and stalked out, the very picture of insulted arrogance.

“Deborah, you will take over for Mr. Fern,” the devil said, and my plump friend stepped forward, looking like she’d gotten hit by a freight truck. Same. What was Deborah doing here? She’d been fired a year ago, and she hadn’t gotten any leaner in that time.

“Take over?” she said with big blue eyes as she looked at me like I could explain the madness.

I shrugged. Wonderland madness was apparently catching.

The devil nodded firmly. “Overseeing quality work among the fine employees at House Beur. Also, a ten percent raise to all of you. And please generously distribute bonuses to those who make an effort to treat customers, and each other, with respect and kindness.”

“Is this real?” she asked, which everyone else was probably thinking. Her chin trembled. “I know we recently had new ownership, and that’s why I was rehired, but are you really…”

He smiled and pulled a deed of ownership out of his inside coat pocket. “I am. You’re in terribly good hands. As you were. We don’t want to hold up business.”

“Yes, sir!” A hundred yes-sirs floated through the air then we were in the elevator, my whole body numb and weird.

“Did that just happen?” I asked, turning to look at him.

“Mm. Did I let Fern off too easily? I thought about sticking him to a spinning wheel and letting the employees throw darts at him, but I don’t want to give the idea that I’m not civilized.”

“But how did you know about him?”

“Your father. We chat sometimes while I’m doing dishes and you’ve gone to bed. He’s a clever fellow and is looking forward to Mr. Fern’s downfall. You’re not happy about it? Where’s your streak of goblin vengeance? That’s your real birthday present, his humiliation, but if you’re too good to appreciate it, I suppose I’ll have to think of another way to⁠—”

I threw my arms around him and kissed him. On the mouth. Like I hadn’t done for weeks and weeks. He tasted so good and felt so right. He’d bought a department store to give me vengeance for my birthday? My mother would never have approved, but part of me was satisfied to know that Fern was gone and no one else at the store would fail a weigh-in again.

He caught me around the waist and pulled me close, kissing me sweet and slow, leisurely, holding back his energy, just kissing me like he liked me, and that we had all the time in the world and that the elevator would never reach the lobby.

When I pulled back, I was breathless, my heart was aching, and I thought I was probably going to burst into tears, but not the usual kind. He was too good, too bad, and too perfectly what I wanted in my arms for the rest of my life. And so beautiful.

He tucked my arm in his as we stepped out of the elevator, walked down the last hall, through a tunnel of blooms and butterflies that echoed the mad fluttering in my heart.

Chapter

Seventeen

We came out into the overcast afternoon where the snail shell car waited at the bottom of the steps. Everything seemed so normal, so real, but that kiss had been anything but. Would my mouth ever stop tingling again?

When I slid into the backseat, I turned to look at my devil with his gleaming eyes and his devilishly soft mouth. “To the cemetery?”

“Of course. Unless you’d rather do something else.” The way he raised a brow at the last word made my heart ache.

Like kiss him? I shook my head then looked out the window, watching the city pass by so I didn’t burst into tears or drown in my mixed-up feelings about kissing him. No one would ever fail the weight test again. The devil might be dangerous, and not have the best grip on morals, but he wasn’t like Fern. When we pulled up the long drive of the cemetery arboretum, I finally turned to smile at him.

“Thank you.”

“I adore your smiles,” he said as he got out and helped me after him. “But don’t feel you have to perform them for me. I’m here for you, not your good manners.”

“Me, good manners?” I let my smile fade then leaned against him until his arm came around my shoulders, holding me close as we slowly walked toward my mother’s plot. He felt so warm and right. Being in the cemetery where my mother rested was wrong but having him with me made it bearable.

Near the plot where she was buried, the tall and imposing figure of my great-uncle stood at the graveside, dour and depressed. He always looked like that, but this felt more. I pulled back, because the last time I’d seen him there, he’d had his ogre bodyguards escort me to the police. His bodyguards were standing back, giving him privacy. Was he actually mourning my mother? How peculiar. He’d always been so distant when she was alive.

I’d been meaning to talk to him, and this was the perfect opportunity. It wasn’t the time to give in to fear or discomfort.

“Great-Uncle Draskri, I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” I said, straightening away from the devil and his warm safety.

The fairy raised his head to frown at me then at the devil before he sniffed. “I cannot say the same.”