Page 13 of The Devil in the Details

He made a dismissive noise. “Who cares about practicality when you look delectable?”

“If you want Fishtopher to be your friend, try bribing him with canned tuna,” she said, completely ignoring that he called her delectable.

Malgraxon found a can of tuna in the pantry, and Fishtopher began to cry immediately. The cat was on the tuna the moment Malgraxon swapped it out for the bowl of milk. He even allowed the demon to pet his head.

Mal crouched down next to the feasting cat, a grin on his face. “He is now my minion,” he said with satisfaction.

“Oh, that’s not how this works at all. You feed him the good stuff. You’rehisminion.”

“That is acceptable.” Mal continued to stroke the cat, who tolerated the demon’s touch while he greedily scarfed down the tuna.

Zelda caught the aroma of dinner. Her stomach rumbled.

Mal sprang to his feet. “Let us feast!”

With a flourish, he escorted her to the table decorated with a pristine white tablecloth. She had no idea where the tablecloth came from because it was not hers.

Dinner was mushroom risotto, grilled chicken, asparagus drowning in butter, and fresh baked rolls. A bottle of wine chilled in a bucket.

“What is this?” she asked. He didn’t have time to cook, and none of the ingredients came from her kitchen.

“I took the liberty of examining your food purchasing habits, my comet, and ordered before I arrived.” He smiled, displaying his inhuman pointy teeth in his otherwise human face. “I am clever. You are welcome.”

“You hacked me.”

“Only a little.” He gestured for her to pick up a fork. When she did not, his brows pulled together. “Was that wrong?”

“Invading my privacy? Yeah, that was wrong.”

“Eat. I went through all the trouble of breaking several passwords and a few inconsequential laws to have dinner with you.”

She eyed the plate. The risotto looked creamy. Starving to prove a point was just a waste of good food. Really, she’d only be punishing herself.

This is what the Daimoni did. Dangle temptation in front of their target and make it seem like the logical choice to accept, the only choice…

Geneva warned her.

Zelda pushed the plate away. “You’re the devil.”

He grinned, all teeth, and his eyes went dark. “Such flattery.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

Malgraxon uncorked the wine and poured two glasses. “I apologize for invading your privacy. I wanted you to be pleased with the meal, and I did not think how it would make you feel to have your passwords broken.”

Zelda accepted the glass, moved by his thoughtful apology. Dinner and flowers were nice gestures, and he wanted to win over her cat. That counted for a lot. She said, “Thank you. Don’t do it again.”

“I will not, but I suggest a random string of words, notIheartfishtopher.”

And he ruined it.

Zelda drained the glass too quickly to appreciate the perfectly chilled wine. “Why are you here, Malgraxon?”

“Mal, please,” he said with a coaxing grin. “Malgraxon is too formal for friends.”

Yeah, they weren’t friends. Whateverthiswas, it wasn’t friendship. Fucked up, absolutely.

“Why are you here?” she repeated.

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