Page 2 of Dating the Dealing Demon

“The twins’ otherworldly look is almost fae or angelic, but with Val, there’s something wilder, a bit more feral about her. I figure it’s why she doesn’t get the same big sponsorship deals the twins do.” Nic hands me her phone. “See?”

Fuck. I should’ve bothered to open the investigative portfolio I ordered up on my future mate.

The woman’s a seductress from her sly gaze as it sweeps the others on set to the curves filling out her body-hugging dress that looks one tug away from an X-rated wardrobe malfunction.Please, let there be a wardrobe malfunction.

Nic takes back the phone, and I fight the instinct to yank it from her. “Anything else?” I ask, hating my voice for going gruff.

“She’s not as successful as her older sister, and she’s not nearly as talkative as either of the twins. If there’s a prop disaster or a miscommunication skit, she’s in the middle of it. The showrunners tried portraying her as a serious student and scientist intent on working in the family’s beauty company, but the press slammed it as an unbelievable gimmick. She’s got a weird obsession with neatness, but her life seems to mostly be a mess. It’s a total contradiction. Most fans complain she’s nothing more than a pretty face and occasional comedic relief. Sorry, Theo.”

“Don’t be.” I have enough to deal with as our father’s chief advisor and occasional enforcer. The last thing I need is a difficult bride. I can deal with one who likes things tidy. Hell, I value rules and order more than most since the hell dimensions stay one step away from a civil war.

My mother draws everyone’s attention when she loudly taps her cards against the table, then tosses them as if they disgust her. “Oh dear,” she says on a dramatic sigh. “It seems I’m out.” She stands, leaving her cards face down on the table. “How disappointing that I can’t stay with you all longer.” She sounds anything but disappointed.

“You could stay to keep us company,” my father suggests. “To bring me luck.”

“I would, but I have a contract to close, riches to collect for the royal coffers, and powers to gain. Theodopolis,” she calls with a narrowed stare my way. “Don’t forget what we talked about earlier.”

“I won’t.” Though I wish I could. My mother doesn’t want me matching with Val Bonetti.

Anyone but a Bonettihad been her exact words this afternoon when she’d crashed my interrogation of a troll about unsanctioned portal activity. I’m trying to protect the realms, and my mother is worried about renegotiating a centuries-old contract with a human family.

I wouldn’t have even known who Val Bonetti was if it hadn’t been for Mother’s meddling. When I’d told her that the middle Bonetti daughter was my destined mate, she said I must’ve read the signs wrong. Me—who has hundreds of successful matches to prove that I’m the best at what I do. Even better than Mother, and she’d been the world’s premier matchmaker before I got into the business.

I didn’t read the signs wrong, and I’m not refusing a fated mate. Certainly not so Mother can enjoy watching the Bonetti family suffer.

No, I’ll match with Val Bonetti.

Not for something so pointless as pleasure—or hellfire forbid—love.

Completing the bond with my fated mate is my only chance at leveling up my magic enough to lock down my claim to my father’s throne. It doesn’t matter that I’m the firstborn son. The noble families won’t follow a leader who can’t keep the hell dimensions in line. If Val Bonetti is the one woman who can give me that, I’ll match with her for what matters most in life—power.

Still watching me as if she’s assessing what I plan to do about the Bonettis, my mother teleports away.

From the seat next to the one she left vacant, my snake of a cousin flips her cards upright. I’m surprised Dupree hadn’t already cheated to know what she held. “Three sevens,” he mumbles. “She just wanted to leave the table.”

“Don’t we all,” Nic says sweetly.

“What’s that?” my father asks.

“Nothing, Daddy.”

Dupree’s turn is up next. “Care to up the bet this round, Uncle?” he asks my father. “Toss your crown into the jackpot and see?—?”

My other sister cuts him off. “Pardon the cliché, but hell really would have to freeze over before you had a chance at becoming king, Dupree.” Gilly—short for Gillayonda—shoots him a scathing glare. “Pony up your final chips, loser. Should’ve known you wouldn’t last in a game that requires any modicum of skill.”

“As opposed to luck?” Dupree says with a sneer that almost hides the shake in his hand when he pushes his few remaining chips into the pot. Almost. He’ll be out soon—forced out of our inner circle like always. “At least I have luck, Gilly darling,” he says in a too-smooth voice that contradicts his personality’s hard edges. “Unlike you who showed up to the party a year too late to inherit the throne.” He eyes me, the heir to my father’s crown.

I want to rip the pretty boy glamour off his true self, but it would do no good except to bring me joy for the brief moment it took my father to intervene on the little snake’s behalf.

“Don’t talk to me about luck.” Gilly curls her lip and gives Dupree a once-over to suggest she wouldn’t stop at peeling his glamour away. She might tear his actual skin off.Thisfrom my calm, calculating sister. “I’m still second in line above your…what is it? Eighth? Tenth?”

Their hatred of each other goes beyond rivalry. I don’t know what our cousin did to so thoroughly piss Gilly off. She gets along with everyone else. Not as well as Nic does, but no one is as beloved as Nic.

Gilly studies her cards carefully before making her play. “Your turn,” she tells our father.

He stares at her like he has no clue what she’s talking about.

Or evenwhohis beloved daughter is.

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