Page 88 of Dating the Dealing Demon

“Everywhere except where the cameras might be.”

“Let me spark the tiniest Brimstone flame, and it’ll all burn.”

“Tempting. But no.”

We turn a corner, and a demon who looks shockingly like Reginald when he’s not in shadow form walks toward us.

“ValBonetti?” he says as though surprised, his British accent nothing like Reginald’s voice. “They didn’t tell us you’d be here for the competition.”

“Competition?” Val asks.

“The monster makeovers,” he says as two other demons come out of a doorway.

“Run along, extra.” The pale one with giant teeth waves away the Brit next to us like she’s his queen and he’s a lowly peasant. She glances our way and immediately holds up her hands as if to ward us off. “Val? Don’t jinx my makeover. I intend to win.”

“Harsh,” the other says. He doesn’t look like any demon I’ve ever met. His horns meet above his head in a heart shape no self-respecting demon would allow. “But yeah, I don’t need the latex peeling off. This perfection took them forever to put on.”

“I missed you, too,” Val says without a hint of honesty. “Where’s Mom?”

“Downstairs with Nonna,” the pale one answers.

Both demons back into their room, bumping their horns on the doorway as they go.

“Amateurs,” I mutter.

“The twins,” Val says. Before we start down an elaborate staircase, she whispers, “Guess you didn’t need your glamour after all.”

“Humans parading as demons. What kind of show does your family star in?”

“A fucked-up one,” she answers.

I follow her past crew members working on boxes with tons of wires pouring out of every side, pushing massive lighting rigs, and reorganizing furniture like none of this house is a real home.

“Val?” A blonde whose cold glare and haughty demeanor make me think of Gilly—before my sister went psychotic—meets us at the bottom of the stairs. “Why are you here?”

“Theo, this is my older sister, Bree,” Val says. Her sister gives me a scathing once over before dismissing me.

“Again, why are you here?” She breaks down the question for my mate like she thinks my woman is stupid.

“Raised here the same as you, big sis.”

“No.” Bree scowls. “I mean, why are youhere?” She glances around as if checking for cameras or eavesdroppers. “You were supposed to be traded for the rare plant thing that’ll reinvent the skincare industry.”

What. The. Fuck?

I manage not to flame this woman to the ground because it might hurt Val’s feelings. Also, I reassess my comparison of her to Gilly. Both our sisters are clearly cruel and insane.

Bree keeps talking as if she doesn’t realize—or care—that she essentially agrees with selling her sister for something she doesn’t even know the name of. “We voted on it.”

Val goes tense. “Who do you mean bywe?”

Bree waves a hand as if it’s a ridiculous question. “Me, the twins, Nonna, Mom.”

That’s it. I need to end this family one way or another.

“Where is Mom?” My mate’s spine stiffens, anger radiating off her.

Good. Anger is excellent.

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