Page 40 of A Deal with the Bossy Devil

Adrien opened his mouth to argue, but I held a finger up to stop him. “Just… listen for a sec,” I said, shifting on my feet. I wasn’t quite sure how to deliver the news… and I kind of didn’t want to show him the letter. Because it was intense and terrifying and what waswrongwith people?

I mean, I hated the guy more than anyone, but I didn’t think he deserved a literaldeath threat.

Adrien noticed how much I was struggling and stood up, rounding his desk. I took a few steps back, rotating my body so the letter remained out of his reach. But he went for it anyway.

“Wait, Adrien, just…”

He paused midreach, his head slanting to the side as something unidentifiable flicked across his features. And I realized I’d accidentally called him by his first name instead of “sir” or whatever he wanted to be called.

“It’s not… it’s not a nice letter,” I warned.

An unrecognizable expression flitted across his face, but it hardened again before he said, “Let me see it.”

He reached for it again and I hesitated, putting my palm up without thinking. It pressed against his chest when he leaned forward—his extremely broad and surprisingly hard chest.

His chin dipped, his attention cutting down to my hand as I felt his pulse kick against my palm.

I snatched it back. “Sorry.”

Adrien met my gaze again and, for the very first time since I’d met him, there was no venom in his eyes when he looked at me. “Can I please see the letter?”

The surprisingly gentle politeness was a tactic, obviously—an effective one.

I slowly placed the paper in his palm, not realizing that my hand was shaking until it was in my line of sight. Adrien must have noticed it, too, because instead of snatching the letter from me, he eased it out of my grip.

“We should probably, um, tell the police,” I stammered as he skimmed the note.

Except he didn’t frown or look at all surprised by what he was reading. And before I could offer to call the authorities on his behalf, he’d folded the note, ripped it into an uneven half, and tossed it into the recycling bin.

As though it were just another piece of junk mail, on another uneventful afternoon. Nothing to see here, folks!

I stood unmoving in the middle of his office, utterly dumbfounded.

“It’s nothing,” Adrien said coolly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Um, I’d read that letter. And it was definitely not “nothing”.

“Shouldn’t you—”

“It’s nothing.”

“But—”

“It’snothing, Sanchez. Leave it alone.”

A part of me wanted to argue with him… but what would I have said?

Adrien let out a breath as I continued to stand there. “It’s not the first one I’ve received, and nothing ever comes of them. They’re supposed to be filtered out along with the hate mail before they reach my desk, but sometimes one slips through.”

For some reason, the fact that he’d received enough of them to be this… cavalier about it bothered me. “Okay… but shouldn’t you have given it to the police instead of ripping it up?”

Adrien cocked his head and slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He was in a stone-grey suit today, with the top two buttons of his starched white shirt popped open. No tie.

Not that… not that I was keeping track of his outfits or anything. I was just…howwas he so freaking nonchalant about this?

“Why do you care?”

I blinked. “What?”

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