Page 20 of A Deal with the Bossy Devil

Apparently, when the hate bomb of doom had gone off, a shit ton of glitter had landed on a bunch of the plants surrounding Adrien’s desk. Thirteen of them to be exact.

“You have twenty-four hours to get it done,” Adrien had said, barely bothering to glance up from his paperwork when I’d walked into his office this morning. “If you finish, then we can talk.”

So, like I said, Adrien Cloutier was a depraved sadist. But he was a depraved sadist who’d underestimated me.

I started with the smallest pot and decided to work my way up. But only after I’d sent out a request for much-needed reinforcements.

“You got the goods?” I asked Jamie in the underground garage an hour later.

She’d gone all out for the occasion—black trenchcoat, heels, gloves, large sunglasses, crimson lipstick, and a dark leather briefcase. She was also entirely “in character” and kept glancing around the lot, trying to hide behind pillars and cars as she snuck to where I was standing out in the open. And I swear I saw her try to dive into a full summersault at one point, before she remembered she was in heels.

My best friend was a freak. I fucking loved her so much.

When Jamie finally reached me, her chin dipped in a curt, professional nod and she handed me the black briefcase. “Good luck, comrade,” she said, saluting me. “See you on the other side.”

“You’re so fucking weird, dude,” I told her. “But also, I kind of love this look on you. Very femme fatale.”

She beamed. “I know. I look amazing. Like, to the point where I’m full-on considering a career change to sexy spy. Or real-life Bond villain.”

That sounded about right.

Adrien was on a call when I stomped back into his office, and his eyebrows did a surprised little twitch when he saw me. He’d probably assumed I’d given up and left because he thought the task was impossible to complete within the given timeframe… which was why he’d assigned it to me in the first place.

I ignored his dark, sticky gaze and made my way back to the couch. Then I dug the gardening gloves, headlamp, extra pair of tweezers, and magnifying glass out of the black briefcase, and got to work.

And exactly twenty-two hours and eight minutes later, I was done. Every single one of the thirteen pots had been de-bedazzled, double-checked, then triple-checked for stubborn strays. Until I was willing to bet what little remained of my sanity that none of them contained anything other than dirt.

I should have asked Jamie to also bring eyedrops, I thought, rubbing at my strained, dry eyes as the sun began to peak out from behind the city skyline. But at least I had a killer view. Adrien’s office was located high enough that—

“You slept here?”

Think of the devil and he doth appear, I guess.

I reluctantly dragged my eyes away from the bruised pink sky and soft, buttery warmth of the sunrise, to where Adrien was standing just outside his open office door, fresh coffee in hand.

And my brain stalled.

It was the exhaustion and the lack of sleep that did it, combined with the fact that I’d been staring at nothing but literal dirt for the last twenty-plus hours. That was what made my brain cells freeze for five agonizingly long heartbeats,notthe sight of him in the crisp, midnight-green suit that looked like it had been sewn straight onto his body.

It wasnotbecause the suit was the exact same color as his eyes, and it wasnotbecause those eyes were currently boring into mine from across the room, pinning my thoughts in place.

It was the lack of sleep. Not him.

“You’re staring again.”

I cleared my throat and blinked my way out of whatever overly tired trance I’d been trapped in and said, “I wasn’t staring.”

The right side of Adrien’s mouth curved ever so arrogantly. “I think you might not know what that word means.”

I crossed my arms and leaned back with a glare as Adrien stepped into his office, his gaze gliding over the thirteen potted plants lined up in front of me.

“I’m done,” I informed him, in case it wasn’t obvious.

Adrien reached for one of the plants and gently nudged a leaf to the side so he could examine my flawless work.

“Here.” I held out the magnifying glass to him with smug pride. He could put these guys under a microscope if he wanted, and he still wouldn’t find a damn—

“Found one.”

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