Page 2 of The Imp Act

I storm into the house, bypassing the kitchen where I’m sure my brothers-in-law are lingering. Instead, I head downstairs to the playroom, and sure enough, eight children turn to greet me.

“Uncle Enzo!” they shout as one, rushing me. I drop to a knee and throw open my arms, catching them in an awkward, giant bear hug. When I manage to get back to my feet, I take a step back. “Okay, line up in order of age so I can see who’s done some growing,” I tell them. They scramble to obey.

I take them in as they line up: Sofia, Luca, Angelica, Antony, Lorenzo, Marco, Matteo, and Gabriella.

“You guys!” I shout. “Have you been cheating? Every single one of you has gotten taller! Are your parents feeding you fertilizer or something?”

They break into giggles, and little Gabriella wraps her arms around my knee. I scoop her up and blow a raspberry on her pink cheek. These kids are the best. It probably won’t be long until my sisters mold them into miniature versions of themselves, and thus mini-Mothers, but I’ll do my best to prevent that. They should know there’s more to life than money, galas, and appearances.Reputations.Ugh.

I wish my grandparents were still alive. They’d step in and help me, I’m sure. It’s crazy that two such warm and loving people managed to produce an ice queen like my mother. My grandparents were a love match, actual true mates, which is rare as hell. Not to mention, something my mother has never cared about. Aurelia Rossetti didn’t marry for love, didn’t push any of her daughters to marry for love, and has now turned her determination on me.

Too bad for her, because I’m not giving in that easily.

My mother is used to getting her way. People never tell her no, but in this wedding battle to see who has the stronger will, the answer comes down to two little words:

I do.

CHAPTER TWO

NOELLE

I’ll say this for Club Cobra: It really goes all in on the snake theme. It’s entirely staffed by serpentines and nagas; the wallpaper, booths, and stools are all in a (faux) snakeskin print; and the chandeliers are shaped like fangs. It seems like it would be overkill, but the end result is actually pretty luxe. I like coming here, because it’s not too fancy, but not a dive, either. It’s a cool, middle-of-the-road place with good music, excellent drinks, and entertaining people-watching.

And right now, I have my eyes on the hottest guy I’ve seen in ages. He’s an imp; the red skin and glowing gold eyes are dead giveaways. I may be human, but when it comes to attractiveness, I don’t discriminate. He’s in a suit, though he’s long since dispensed with the tie and jacket, and his sleeves are rolled up to reveal muscular forearms, which I’m a total sucker for. His wings are expansive, I’m pretty sure, but he has them tucked neatly back at the moment. And then there’s his face: straight nose, the kind of pouty mouth most women pay for, an intriguing scar, and tousled black hair. Not to mention, the horns curling back from his temples are big and strong-looking—perfect to hold onto during a wild ride, if you get my drift.

To put it bluntly: he’s fucking hot. Totally my type.

And the perfect way to celebrate my long-awaited liberation from school.

I lean close to the bar and motion for Kaliya, my favorite bartender. One of the serpentines, she has the mass of snakes on her head coiled into a giant, writhing bun and is wearing the tiniest black dress I’ve ever seen—it’s barely more than straps.

“What’s up?” she asks, sauntering close.

I tip my head at the imp. “Any idea who that is?”

She laughs, and it trails off in a slight hiss. “Are you kidding?”

I shake my head. “Should I know him?”

She flicks her forked tongue at me. “You are unbelievable. That, my friend, is Enzo Rossetti. He’s basically Monstrocity’s most eligible bachelor. And word on the street is that his dear mommy finally dropped the hammer and gave him a deadline to find a wife.”

I blink at her, completely lost. “His mommy?”

Kaliya shakes her head affectionately. “You’re hopeless. You really need to get out more, you know? Imps are matriarchal, meaning the women set the rules. Enzo has been out in these streets for years, making the most of his bachelorhood. Breaking hearts and popping cherries, if the rumors are true. But his rich, domineering mother has evidently decreed that it’s time for him to settle down. Apparently she threatened to start interviewing potential brides if he couldn’t find one on his own.”

Fascinating.

If he’s getting married soon, then I don’t have much time to sample the goods, so to speak. I better move fast.

I stand straighter and give myself a little shimmy, fixing my dress. It’s my own design, and one of my favorites. It’s all silver fringe, and while the halter neck might suggest modesty, the open back squashes that notion as soon as I turn around.

I fluff my hair and glance at Kaliya for approval. She grins and gives me a thumbs-up, so I take a deep breath and saunter over to introduce myself to the most eligible bachelor in the city.

ENZO

In my considerable experience, Club Cobra is the best Monstrocity has to offer: the best atmosphere, the best drinks, the best-looking women. In the past month, I’ve made it a point to date as many of them as possible, just to irritate my mother. But I’ve never seen the woman walking toward me before, and she just might be the most gorgeous of all. She’s small and curvy, with long, wavy black hair and eyes that defy description. They’re not amber. I wouldn’t really call them hazel. They’re just…greenish-gold, unusual and beautiful, especially because her skin is a dusky bronze.

She strolls up to me with a sultry grin and sticks out a hand. “Noelle Wilson,” she says.

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