Page 12 of The Imp Act

My family’s company has multiple branches. I’m not entirely sure what all of them do, or where I would even be working. The privilege of it all smacks me in the face, and I blink. Imagine having a job waiting for you and not even knowing what it is.

Mother purses her lips, her normal dour expression returning. “Honestly, Enzo, I don’t know why you put up with that. It’s unbecoming. It’s bad enough you married a human without any status in her own society, but to let her continue working? It’s a shame.”

My brows shoot up. “Let her? Mother, I don’t own Noelle. I can’t tell her what to do. You, more than anyone, should know that women make their own decisions.”

She bulldozes right past the obviousness of that. “For imps, yes. We’re matriarchal. But humans are not. If you told her you didn’t want her working, she would listen to you.”

My mother doesn’t know Noelle at all, which is her own fault. She’s made literally no effort to spend time with my wife. It seems her only goal was getting me married for the sake of appearances—she doesn’t actually care about the woman in my life. Just as I figured.

“Mother, no. She absolutely would not listen to me, and moreover, she’d be furious. Just leave it alone, please? Things between Noelle and me are fine, and we don’t need you meddling.”

She sniffs and turns up her nose. “I never meddle. I’m simply concerned about my family.”

Sure. “Speaking of, I need to go. I’m meeting Noelle for dinner.” I escape before she can say anything else. My wife and I made plans to eat at a restaurant tonight. We wanted to relax without the watchful eye of Mrs. Grimsby assessing our every move.

Because of her, we’re forced to share a bedroom, but it’s more than that. The bedroom was never an issue. It’s the little things:Noelle constantly has to put fancy lingerie in the dirty laundry, to make it look like she’s seducing me at every chance. We have to make sure our sheets get changed regularly, and when they do, that they sport signs of…ahem, newlywed activities. Honestly, that’s how intense it is. The housekeeper is checking the bedding for cum stains.

We never disagree in front of her, though actually, we rarely argue. Noelle and I get along perfectly well, a fact that makes total sense to me and is probably a mystery to her. One of these days, I’ll have to tell her she’s my true mate. I just haven’t figured out how to do that yet.

When Mrs. Grimsby is around, we’re careful to be extra affectionate, always touching each other and using pet names. It’s silly, and I know it sometimes grates on Noelle, but I don’t mind it. I like that I’m allowed—compelled, really—to touch her every chance I get.

This arrangement is working out perfectly for me. I just need to make sure it’s the same for my bride.

When I reach the restaurant, Noelle is already there and waiting. She’s wearing a short purple-and-black lace minidress with insanely high heels, both of which show off her legs to stunning perfection. The dress hugs her curves and her tumbling black hair is long and shiny. She really is a gorgeous woman, and the men at the bar have noticed. When she sees me and smiles, strolling over to hug me, pride and possessiveness surge through me.

She’s mine. Not just for a year. Forever.

I shoot the men at the bar a smug look and take Noelle’s arm in mine, shifting her hand so that the diamond on it is prominent. Just in case there was any doubt that she’s taken.

“Hello, husband,” she says, shooting me a grin. It still feels odd when she calls me that, but not in a bad way. More like…I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear it and now that I have,something inside me has settled. “How was your day at the office?”

I shrug. “Hard to say. I realized I don’t even know what my family’s company does half the time. To just waltz in and collect a paycheck feels a little…gross. But if I ever want a job with any meaning, I feel like I need to do it. Figure out what the hell I’m doing, you know? Where my talents might be best used?”

“But you don’t have to work, right?”

I shake my head. “No, we could both live off my trust fund for the rest of our lives. But hanging around all afternoon, sitting on my thumbs while you pursue your dream? It’s making me feel unsettled.”

We take our seats and she leans in, taking my hands. “I can understand that. Whatever you decide to do, know I’ll support you. If you want to be a sexy house husband, that’s fine. If you want to model my menswear, I’ll hire you on the spot. If you want to go work at a coffee shop, it’s fine by me. I just want you to be happy.”

“Thank you,” I tell her. “I hope you know I want the same for you. If you’re ever unhappy, I want you to tell me.”

She nods, watching me and waiting. She can tell I have more to say.

There’s something I’ve been struggling with, something I wouldn’t have dreamed I would admit. But Noelle makes me feel so at ease, telling her seems like the most natural thing in the world.

“Here’s the thing,” I say, squeezing her hands. “I’ve been wrestling with some guilt. I’ve spent my whole life riding my family’s coattails, while at the same time complaining about my mother’s ways. I’m in my thirties and I’ve never had a proper job. Sure, I went to college—on my family’s dime—but once I had my business degree, I resorted to my previous ways. Partying, dating unsuitable women that would annoy mymother, and testing out every club in Monstrocity. Relaxing at the beach house. Just…being a fuckup, basically. A thirty-year-old man-child. And now that I realize how silly and privileged I’ve been, well…I’m ashamed. Embarrassed. I kinda get why Mother insisted I get married. She wanted me to grow up. And in her own way, she was right.” I shoot Noelle a wry look. “I hate admitting that.”

The waiter stops by our table to fill our wine glasses and drop off a bread basket with dipping oil. Noelle glances at him warmly. “Thank you. We’ll need a few more minutes before we order, please.”

“Of course, ma’am.” He steps away and she turns her attention back to me.

“First of all, your secret is safe with me. We willnevertell her that she was right. About anything. Secondly, you can agree with the outcome your mother wanted without agreeing with her methods, you know. Just because her ultimate goal was the right one doesn’t mean she went about it in the right way.”

I know how careful Noelle is when she talks about my mother. She clearly dislikes her, but doesn’t want to hurt my feelings by insulting my mom. Not that it would.

“I saw her today. She was thrilled that I’m considering finally taking my place at the company. She saw it as a great opportunity for you to give up your career and join her committees.”

Noelle makes a face. “Um, please tell me you disabused her of that notion. I know she has no respect for my career goals, but I’m not about to give them up. You get that, right?”

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