Page 10 of Hate Mates

ClickBait by Cora Kenborn

THE DEVIL IS JUST A CLICK AWAY…

Izzy

Ever have your entire life implode in less than an hour?

Mine did—when I caught my CEO boyfriend in a horizontal boardroom negotiation with his CFO. Did I mention he was also my boss?

When losing my man and my job in a one-two punch has me drowning in a river of tequila and self-doubt, my best friend’s solution is to sign me up for a new app specializing in book boyfriend-style fantasy role play.

Four shots later, I’m swiping right on Lucifer himself.

Flirting with fire and brimstone is fun until the game takes a dark turn, and the Devil decides he wants more than a plaything…

He wants everything.

Lucifer

Original Sin lore pisses me off.

The serpent never deceived Eve. She fell victim to his offer for one reason—she wanted to.

That’s why I’ve spent the last few years keeping my distance from Izzy Hawthorne.

She’s my forbidden fruit.

I’ve watched over her like a hawk…circling and protecting but never touching. However, now she’s crossed the line into my secret world, and all bets are off.

Sweet Izzy made a deal with the Devil…

And I’ve come to collect.

ONE

Izzy

Maeve arches her perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Don’t you think you should slow down?”

I tip the bottle back, letting the tequila burn another hole in my esophagus. “Nope.”

She gives me a long, dramatic exhale. “Three shots in ten minutes is a lot, even for someone who has a longstanding relationship with Don Julio. You had a glass of champagne at my cousin’s wedding and spent the whole reception yacking on a fake palm tree.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“It was last summer.” She leans across the couch and tries to take it out of my hands, but I cradle it to my chest with a growl. Rolling her eyes, she slumps into the couch and returns to her phone. “Come on, Izzy. Getting palm-tree wasted won’t do anything but make you wake up feeling like a busted piñata.”

“Even more reason to stay plastered,” I grumble, although I know she’s right. I could mainline tequila straight into my vein, and I’d still be a jobless, homeless, boyfriendless, twenty-eight-year-old mess with a whole nine dollars and thirty-seven cents in my bank account.

The bank alert came in half an hour ago, making it extra mortifying to be crashing at my best friend’s hundred-million-dollar Palo Alto mansion.

Maeve is a member of the lucky sperm club. Her father is a self-made multi-millionaire who sold his tech start-up company for an ungodly amount of money while she was in diapers. Lennox Carver is known worldwide as the “Titan of Silicon Valley,” a bored techo-god who entertains himself by investing in other “small guys” like himself. Every wide-eyed computer geek with a Zuckerberg poster on their wall salivates at the thought of pitching to him.

Most never get the chance.

Unfortunately, Fletcher Stanley did, which makes everything that’s happened even more of a kick in the gut.

Maeve heaves another exasperated sigh as her fingers fly across the keyboard of her phone. “I wish you wouldn’t let that micro-dick asshole get to you like this.”

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