Page 34 of Burn for the Devil
Ilya appeared highly amused by his alternative moniker for me, and plenty pleased with himself, adjusting his tie and brushing back an errant strand of hair. “You’re preening, you narcissistic asshole. Did you agree to meet with the press?” I asked.
His face fell, an aura of seriousness descending. “Of course not. In my opinion we should only deliver written statements after spelling them for protection. We know all too well what they can do with words.”
I wasn’t about to disagree with him, we used them as weapons. “No photo shoots still, either. Let the others know.”
“Will do.” The man stood up. “We will have to make some public appearances from time to time, it's good for business, good optics. We can’t stop pictures from being taken when that happens.”
“No posing or contrived images,” I stated. We didn’t need to be a spectacle and invite more attention before we were prepared.
“Agreed.”
“Have you seen Matthew?” I asked.
“I believe he’s back in Los Angeles, temporarily.” He waited for a response and continued when I gave none. “He’ll be back. It's useful to have him there as well; he has responsibilities as he’s told us.”
The further away the fucker was, the better. “He’s made moves on Samantha; I don’t want him here if it can be avoided.”
Ilya shifted his legs, his jaw tensing. Despite his ill-advised deal with the archangel, he would always side with me when it came to Matthew. “I don’t blame you.”
Annoyance welled up within me. Did this demon truly believe Matthew had even a ghost of a chance with my woman? “Iwillkill him if he makes another move toward her,” I warned.
Ilya’s eyes emitted a thin red circle around his irises. “Let me know, I’ll help.” He moved toward the door, slapping his hand against the frame before turning his head, grinning. “Tonight’s your first public appearance. I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear your best.”
He left before I could ask what the event was. I was about to check my phone for any text messages I’d ignored when Violet poked her purple head in.
“Sir?”
She really should change her hair back to an acceptable color. “Dye your hair. Or spell it, I don’t care. You look like a box of fucking crayons.” She scowled at me and had no business doing so. Her past actions, her betrayal when it came to Kiara, had permanently altered our friendship. Kiara’s abusive ex-boyfriend had held her hostage due to my secretary’s actions.
“Fine,” she bit out. “Ilya asked me to let you know the event is a fundraising gala.” Her eyes darted to the mess on the floor.
“Leave it.” How many times would I have to tell her?
Her eyes were boring into my forehead while I scrolled through my notifications. “Is there a problem?” I didn’t bother to look up and then my office door shut a little harder than it should have.
Once home, I headed to my bedroom to prepare for the evening. Absently, I chose an outfit, and the ghost of a statement wandered through my head.“Your aristocrat look.”I recalled the look of puzzled amazement on Kiara’s face, the first time she saw me in the outfits I wore to frequent my bar in the Second Realm. She’d been used to my finely tailored suits, not tall boots, leather, and make-up.
Rebellion over my current circumstances threatened to place me in inappropriate clothing for tonight’s appointment. The dutiful executive in me reached for an all-black three-piece suit, of course. It would be expected of someone in my dual positions—ultra-wealthy business owner and the prince of darkness.
My silver talons slipped into my pocket; one never knew when they’d provide the perfect accent piece. I drew my hair back into a low ponytail and then fastened cufflinks at my wrist when Ilya walked in.
Again, like he owned the place. He was getting on my nerves more so than usual. I knew he sensed and saw the reddish aura that emanated from me the moment his Italian shoes hit the carpet; he simply didn’t care.
“Roses,” he remarked, pointlessly.
Although the flowers in my office reached an unfortunate end, they still decorated my private bedroom. “Your powers of observation are astounding.”
“You do know she’ll likely be there. Her parents are on the guest list.” Ilya followed me down the stairs.
“I’m aware,” I replied. “She wants nothing to do with me.”
“When will you take her? You have to be slightly more careful now.”
Adam helped me into a long leather coat, and I pulled my hair out from under the collar. “I’m working on it.”
“Ramone, stop.” Ilya paused, leaving Adam holding the door and I turned my head. “Samantha,” he said, looking at me.
He was reading me, and I instantly knew hesaw.He saw what she was doing to me, saw my vulnerability, and he had me by the balls if he chose to cut them off. I was going to have to trust him and bitterness over that fact coated the back of my tongue. Helplessly, I tried to rein in my aura, control the ether drifting around my head, but the woman and my associated emotions were a severe infection with no viable cure.