Page 89 of A Deal with the Bossy Devil

I pushed the box away. “Thanks,babe, but I’m really trying to watch my sugar intake.”

“Nonsense,” he argued softly. “We’re on vacation. You’re allowed to treat yourself.”

“Aren’t they just the sweetest?” Julie said to her husband.

“Very cute,” he agreed.

“They remind me of us.”

“We’re cuter.” He winked at her; she giggled.

“You’re all equally gross,” Alice informed the four of us flatly.

And that was when Adrien made the mistake of reaching for his coffee. I acted before the idea had even fully formed, reaching for two of the ice cubes Alice had put aside for her forgotten smoothie. And then I plopped them right into his cup.

Adrien stiffened, his fingers digging into my hip.

Alice frowned at her brother. “Ew… you like your coffee lukewarm now?”

“I don’t know,” he answered slowly, a dangerous edge to his voice. “Do I?”

I smiled at Alice. “Cat’s out of the bag, I guess. I sneak ice into his morning coffee because he insists on drinking it before it’s had a chance to cool, which is not only bad for his teeth, but my medical intuitive says that’s what’s causing the erectile dys—”

The rest of my sentence was muffled against the massive piece of dough Adrien had torn off the cinnamon bun and stuffed into my mouth.

I almost gagged.

“What’s a medical intuitive?” Anthony asked curiously.

“She’s joking,” Adrien said.

“She’schoking,” Alice corrected.

My eyes were watering, my fists tight as I forced the cursed piece of tainted abomination down my gullet.

I downed the rest of my coffee. It barely helped.

“A medical intuitive,” I started, my voice wobbly, “is a medical practitioner and energy healer who uses their psychic abilities to talk to the dead via tarot cards, crystal balls, and elder wands to—”

Adrien ripped off another piece of dough, ready to shove it into my mouth. But I stomped on his foot before he had the chance, and he dropped it with a sharp exhale.

“Are… the two of you okay?” Julie was frowning now. As was the rest of his family.

Probably because Adrien and I were both breathing rather violently, the air around us cracking as we clenched our jaws, teeth, fingers.

“Excuse us,” Adrien bit out. He grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of the kitchen, up the stairs, into our shared room.

The door banged shut.

I glared at him, my chest heaving with hatred.

He glared at me, his jaw rigid with rage.

“You are,” he started, voice grating with frustration. “Ria, you arethe most… I can’t… you just…” His teeth snapped shut, like the amount of sheer exasperation he felt toward me was beyond words.

“I told you,” I seethed. “Itold youwe wouldn’t be able to do this without wanting to rip each other apart.”

And that was exactly what I wanted to do—rip him apart. Tear into his sanity, his patience, his shirt. I wanted to… Ineededto…

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