Keira
Drama Queen. Gracie’s just upset because I’m right. She’s weak when we all need her to be strong. She’s supposed to be the Angel. She’s supposed to resist Lucifer at least a little bit. But so far all she’s done is play along and fall right into Lucifer’s well of self-loathing and doubt.
My eyes burn, so I slide backward, dunking my head beneath the bubbles. A hiss meets me as I rise back through the surface and breathe deeply. Instead of being soothed, I’m agitated, so I reach for my glass with one hand while rubbing the nape of my neck with the other. It’s the spot Maxwell, my asshole ex-husband, bruised while holding me underwater in my washbasin. I’d all but forgotten until Lucifer’s last punishment when he forced me to relive my death.
Guzzling champagne takes some of the edge off, but I’m done with the water, so I climb out, yanking the plug and willing myself dry. I wrap myself in one of the complimentary white robes with the hotel insignia on it. It’s as soft as a cloud but not as comforting as Noah’s arms. I decide to ease the longing by making sure Gracie’s asleep and pulling out some good old-fashioned pen and paper.
I crumple the sheet up and toss it over my shoulder, where it disappears. Too sappy. I am NOT sappy. Let’s try again.
“I want your body against mine,” I say as I write. “I want to share your sweet breath. I want to be so into each other that nothing and no one else matters.”
I groan, tossing the next sheet over my shoulder. I do want all that. But it’s still too sappy—and too revealing.
I read it over twice to be sure and send it to him along with my signature black rose.
“Please don’t forget me while you get heady with power. Don’t become Lucifer.” I say a prayer to Noah since there’s no one else to ask.
I’ve just cleared away the paper and pen when Lucifer appears, startling a gasp from me. Damn. I have to be more careful than that.
“Having fun?” he asks, taking in the room and the champagne in my hand.
“Randy’s out cold for now, and Gracie rang.” I gesture toward the room where she’s sleeping, blissfully unaware that I’m throwing her under the bus.
Lucifer’s gaze remains locked on me. “And you thought you’d help her out. Such a Good Samaritan, Keira. And here I thought you may be helping her get to Noah.”
I laugh despite my blood freezing at his accusation. “Actually, I came because she said ‘Vegas.’ But I can drive her ass back out to the desert if that’s what you want, Boss.” It won’t actually hurt her, and if it convinces Lucifer I’m still 100 percent loyal, so be it.
“So much for female bonding.” Lucifer sits on the pristine sofa, popping a nut in his mouth from a crystal dish on the coffee table.
I shrug and down the remainder of my bubbly. “Every Demon for herself.” If he wants her in the desert, that’s where she’s going, no matter who puts her there.
“Well, I’d like you to take her under your wing like you did with Josh. Show her how it’s done. Tell you what—bring Randy to Vegas. He can stay here with you both. Two for one corruption.”
I sigh.
“Problem?” His eyes light with danger.
I shrug again. “Of course I’ll do it. It’s just that Randy’s so damn boring. There’s no challenge in him, Lucifer. I suppose that’ll make it easier for Gracie, though.” I circle behind him and trace a finger along the top of the sofa.
“He’ll do for now, Keira. Aren’t you attracted to him, at least?” Lucifer’s considering whether I’m falling for his plan. If I sound too eager, he’ll never buy it.
“He’s got the Adonis body,” I admit, “but will that be enough for Gracie? I do admit that he gets much more enticing when he does his thing.”
Randy’s a magician, and the “thing” I’m referring to is his ability to plan a great con or burglary using sleight of hand to redirect attention. It’s the ability I’m supposed to nurture, which feels so obviously unnecessary that it’s laughable. The real reason Lucifer assigned me to Randy was to have sex with someone other than Noah and get my mind off him. There’s also a worse possibility—he assigned me to Randy so he can show Noah that I’m having sex with someone else and make him angry.
“It’s a great natural talent, isn’t it?” Lucifer asks while pointing to the half-drunk champagne bottle sitting on the edge of the Jacuzzi.
He could conjure himself anything he wants. He just wants to remind me that I’m his servant. I comply by handing him a glass and leaning over him from behind, running my hands down the arms of his suit jacket.
“Anything else you require, Boss?” I purr in his ear. As far as I know, Lucifer’s asexual. He gets off on the pain and misery of others, not physical or emotional love, but it never hurts to suck up a little.
Lucifer grabs me by the scruff of the neck, and I wince because it feels like the bruise is still fresh and tender.
“Yes. You have a job to do. Get to work. I have a world to take over, and I can’t be babysitting Demons.”
He releases his grip on my neck and stands to face me, tugging his jacket into place. “Oh, and Keira? If I so much as see you in Washington state, you will be Maxwell’s plaything for the next two hundred years. Got it?”
“Yes, Boss. I never liked it there anyway. Too dreary,” I lie.
As Lucifer disappears from view, the Jacuzzi roars to life, full of water, and the bruise on the back of my neck throbs.
* * *
By the time Gracie finally comes out of her room, Randy’s made himself at home—he’s lounging on the sofa with a beer in hand, trunks still dripping all over the furniture from his morning swim.
“Hey, babe.” He raises his beer hand in salute, first barely sparing her a glance, then doing a double take when he sees her in the little outfit Lucifer left her with.
“Um, hi.” Grace shoots me a look that says both WTF and what am I missing now?
“Gracie, Randy. Randy, Gracie. I hope you don’t mind, but I told Randy how you invited me to crash and, well, you always say the more people, the bigger the party, right?” I bat my eyes innocently, hoping she’ll catch on.
Grace still looks mad enough to set the room on fire, but Randy doesn’t notice. He’s not staring at her red face.
“Sure. Hey, Keira, can you please help me with something in my room?”
I toss my new, longer hairstyle back over my shoulder and follow her into the bedroom, lying back on the cushions.
“You brought your assignment here?” she asks, demanding an explanation.
“Lucifer paid me a visit. He’s your assignment, too, now.” I fluff one of the pillows. “He wants you to help corrupt Randy.”
Gracie’s face drains of all color. She matches the sheets she sits on. “But you said he wants Randy to distract you from Noah. So that means…” Her voice trails off.
I lay a hand on her shoulder. She looks like a lost duckling. Ugh, I can’t believe I have to spell it out. “He expects you to do whatever it takes to put Randy over the edge. To do your utmost, no holds barred. And sex is the easiest way to manipulate others.”
Why must I be in this situation? Of course I have to corrupt her to keep in Lucifer’s graces, which is going to take a gentle hand and earning her misguided trust. But the problem is that she’s so damn helpless, it kills me. It’s, like, I didn’t know anyone could actually be like that, and it only makes me angrier at her. I want her to be so formidable that I can’t possibly take her down—not be the doormat she is right now.
What the Hell is wrong with her?
“You’re a Demon,” I remind her. “You said it yourself: you have to play the part if you want access to Noah. You already made the choice, Gracie. Now it’s time to deal with the reality.” I stand, stretching.
“You’re right. Of course. I… I just… I want there to be a way I can stay true to Josh. I guess that’s a childish wish.”
No, not childish, just impossible. I know how she feels. I already sent another note to Noah, explaining what I’m expected to do and how much I hate it. I’ll be thinking only of you, I wrote, wishing I had the strength to defy Lucifer. But hundreds of years as a Demon have taught me my place, so I’m resigned to getting this assignment over with as soon as possible.
“I’ll go start the Jacuzzi. Take your time, but you can’t stay in here, or Lucifer will make it worse.” I turn to leave, but something makes me turn back around one last time. I don’t know why I say it, but I do.
“It’s not so bad. You’ll be fine.”