Page 1 of The Demon's Queen

CHAPTER 1

EVE

Seven missed messages. On my personal phone, the one I most certainly don’t give out to anyone but a select few friends. It’s not a number I recognize, which all but confirms my suspicion that one of my clients has decided to ignore the rules of our arrangement and try to go around Pope to get to me. Again. Pope goes above and beyond to vet the people they send my way, but despite them being damn near prophetic when it comes to bad apples, sometimes people slip through.

I stare at my notifications, exhaustion seeming to increase the force of gravity against my bones. I already know what I’ll hear when I check the voicemail, but I make myself do it anyways.

“Ginger, why did you cancel on me? I?—”

Fuck. It’s Tanner. He’s been one of mine for years now and has shown every evidence of being a relatively nice guy, if on the selfish side. He likes only the lightest of the girlfriend experience, preferring to play like we’re sneaking away together. Not one of my favorites—even though I know Pope would lecture me for getting attached enough to have favorites—but he’s consistent and he tips absurdly well.

I delete the voicemail and click on the next one.

“Ginger, what the fuck? Answer the fucking phone. I swear to god?—”

Delete.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Please?—”

Delete.

I delete the last four without listening. I’ve heard enough. I type out a quick message to Pope.

Tanner Lockeye has become an issue. He found my personal number and is making a nuisance of himself.

Pope

Another one? That’s unlucky, even by your standards.

Can you not make jokes right now? I just lost one of my best-paying clients.

Pope

Sorry, doll. I’ll take care of it. He won’t bother you anymore.

I barely breathe a sigh of relief when another text pops up.

Pope

Assuming this means you’re free tonight. Azazel is on the waitlist if you’re up for it.

Even though I know better, I can’t help the little fizz of excitement reading his name brings me. Azazel is my favorite client. He shouldn’t be, because every sign points to him becoming a problem at some point, but to date, he hasn’t done anything to overstep my very stringent rules. So I ignore the potential future problems because I enjoy my time with him.

And he tips even better than Tanner.

Set it up. Let me know the time and place.

A few minutes later, Pope sends over the information, and I start the process of getting ready. It’s a soothing ritual to set down Eve for the night and drape Ginger around me. It’s a small distinction, but a necessary one. I pin my long blond hair into an updo so that Azazel can run his fingers through and send my pins flying. He likes that a lot. He also likes me in jewel tones, so I pull out a deep-purple dress that clings to my body and doesn’tquitelook like it’s offering up my breasts, but it’s a close thing. He’s over six feet, so I pull on my highest heels. For makeup, I keep it subtle and sultry: a light smokey eye and lips a couple of shades darker than my natural pink.

I leave my apartment and take the elevator down to the ground floor. There’s a small corridor here with a doorman ensuring no one comes in without permission. That and a few other security features increased the cost of my rent dramatically, but it’s worth it. I take great pains to ensure my clients aren’t aware of my real name or where I live, because of cases like Tanner, where they get confused about our “relationship.”

The doorman on shift right now is Rahul, an older man with the sweetest smile and warm medium-brown skin. I found out last year that he’s an artist. The way he paints the city is abstract and so lovely, it makes my heart ache. Rahul gifts me with that smile as I step out. “Going to be a late night, Miss Eve?”

“Yes, sir.” I stop next to him as an understated black town car pulls up. “Keep the lights on for me?”

“I always do.” He opens the car door for me. “I’m off at six, but Fred will be on shift after me. He’s a good one, so he’ll take care of you.”

I don’t like Fred nearly as much as Rahul, but I can’t deny that he’s good at his job. “Thank you.” I sink into the back seat. “Have a good night, Rahul.”

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