Page 9 of My Indecent Valentine

I don’t laugh. I was the twenty-year-old who taught him that lesson, and the shame of it still stings. To be fair, he was also in his twenties. We were both fireworks.

No one says anything, and an uneasy silence settles on us. I glance at Sofia. She looks at me and then at Magleon, and my eyes are drawn to him as well.

“Has Sofia shared my offer with you?” he asks, sipping from his glass, but his casual facade can’t hide the flair of his nostrils or the excited flicker behind his eyes. We’re down to business.

“No,” I reply. “She thought it best I hear it directly from you.”

He nods. “I’ll be blunt then. Ollas Encendidas is an extraordinary restaurant, and I want to help you save it,” he says. “I can fix the problem you’re having with the ‘halo,’ and all I want in return is a small favor. She’s negotiated an excellent deal on your behalf. You could say ‘yes’ now. We’ll shake on it, and I’ll fill you in on the details upstairs.”

“What’s upstairs?” Sofia asks.

“My personal residence,” Magleon says with a smile. “Shall we?” he asks, rising from his chair.

“Not so fast.” I motion for him to take his seat. The hairs along my arms tingle, standing on end. Despite our shared history (or maybe because of it), I don’t trust a word he just said. And more than that, no demon worth a dash of brimstone would shake on a deal before the particulars had been hammered out. Does he really think so little of me? “Before we go anywhere, I’ll need to hear more.”

“Samite, come now,” he shakes his head but takes his seat. “This isn’t business. It’s an informal quid-pro-quo amongst friends. Do we really need to make a fuss?”

“I’m afraid so,” I say.

He leans forward, and with a heavy sigh, he rests his elbows on the desk and clasps his hands together. “You know, some might say you owe me this. You bankrupted me, broke off our friendship, and broke my heart in the process. All without a word of apology. After all this time, I assumed you’d welcome the chance to set things right between us.”

My stomach twists, and I can’t hide my grimace. “I do owe you an apology.” Over the years, I’ve imagined this moment many times, what I would say if I ever worked up the courage to face him. “I’m sorry, Magleon, for—for everything.” It’s not exactly the poetics I’d rehearsed in my head, but he smiles and rises from his chair again.

“Apology accepted!” His arms spread graciously. “Come, friends, let’s take this upstairs.”

“No,” I say firmly. Guilt squeezes my chest, imploring me to give him whatever he wants, but I can’t. “Any deal that involves my wife and our livelihood will be spelled out in very specific language. If you’re serious about your offer, have a seat and call in your contract attorney. I’m sure you’ve got one on standby.”

Magleon snorts in irritation, but there’s still a dancing spark in his eyes. “Alette!” he shouts and not a heartbeat later, the door swings open and a petite fairy in a pencil skirt trots in with a slimline briefcase clutched in her spidery fingers. “It looks like we’ll be needing you tonight after all. Would you mind joining us, pet?” Magleon says.

“Of course, Magleon. At your service.” The fairy dips, giving the faint impression of a curtsy, and takes a seat in what I’m guessing is her usual chair. She whips out a laptop and, without waiting for us, starts typing. “Ready when you are,” she says without looking up.

“Alette, please outline a quid-pro-quo contract, service for service exchange, between myself and Ollas Encendidas, LLC,” Magleon says. “What else would you like to add?” he asks, gesturing to me like I’m a child he’s placating.

“You said you had five fans that would fit inside the halo and a technician who could install them before dinner service tomorrow,” Sofia says, jumping in. “You agreed to cover the cost, and you assured me that if we had any problems with them over the next five years, you’d see to the repairs as well.”

I turn to stare at her. We’re going to have to have a talk after this about what it means to leave operations to me. “He lied to you,” I say, and I turn back to glare at Magleon. “I designed the halo. The components are custom. You don’t have five fans.”

Magleon’s nose wrinkles, and he sucks his teeth, eyeing me for a moment before he speaks again. “When I heard you were looking to get back into the hospitality game, I was certain my oldest friend would come to see me. I even selected a few of our flagship properties to show you, knowing a demon of your tastes would want only the best. But somehow, despite your lengthy search, you avoided any property with my name on it. That was rude.” He scowls. “Even so, I was curious to know what you were getting yourself into. Your property manager is a friend of a friend, and I called in a favor. The halo was the first thing that caught my eye when she gave me the tour.”

I don’t like the sound of this, him poking around our place of business behind our backs. My skin prickles uncomfortably, but I listen without interrupting.

“It really is a beautiful design, one small mechanical issue notwithstanding. My interest was piqued. I did a little digging and bribed your manufacturer to send me my own halo. When it arrived, the potential was so obvious. Every demon-run resort in the world is going to want one of these, and not just in their restaurants. Entryways, ballrooms, wedding venues. There are so many applications for an artful, open-flame centerpiece of such impressive proportions,” he says, and another prickling wave raises the hairs on my arms. With effort, I keep my expression passive, hiding my irritation that he’s not only been poking around behind my back, he’s engaged with my contractors and purchased a product I never authorized for sale.

“I reverse-engineered it, correcting the small issue that was disrupting the electrical supply to the fan motor, and registered my new product with the patent office. Shortly after, I sent your original manufacturer a cease and desist order. They’re fighting me, of course,” he waves his hand dismissively, “but they didn’t design the halo and the person who did never filed a patent. My claim is the only one that will hold up in court.” He leans forward, making purposeful eye contact. “When I said I had five fans, I was being too modest. I should have said I’m the only person on the entire planet who can help you fix your precious halo. Call me a liar again and our negotiations are over.” He grins, baring his sharp teeth.

My blood runs hot.

“¡Hijo de puta! You stole his design!” Sofia leaps from her chair.

“I saw an opportunity lying on the table and I took it. That’s business. But I like your fire,” Magleon chuckles. “You picked a good one, Samite.”

“¡Come mierda, cabrón!” She tells him to eat shit, and I try not to laugh as I leap up to grab her before she can go over his desk.

“Sofia, Sofia!” When her attention finally snaps to me, there’s a flicker of red in her eyes that startles me. It’s gone in a blink, and I explain it away as a trick of the light or a reflection because now’s not the time to get lost in wondering about my wife’s anomalous traits. “Sit, please. We’re not done negotiating.” It takes a moment for her to do as I ask, and even when she sits, she’s shooting daggers at Magleon. I have to smother a smile. Sweet Mother Darkness, I love this woman, but she’s glaring at the wrong person.

Magleon is not to blame. I did leave an opportunity on the table. That’s on me. I didn’t see the potential in the halo beyond its use in our restaurant, and Magleon did. Demon to demon, I respect that. But he just made a huge mistake. He showed his cards, and now that I know what he’s holding, negotiations are about to get more interesting.

“What do you want from us?” I ask coolly. He said service for service, so I know he’s not after money. What does he want, and more importantly, how much does he want it?

---