Page 33 of His Ruthless Match
“Do you get paid upfront? Or is it, like, a trust thing?”
“It’s all through the app,” he said, his tone tinged with impatience. “Look, man, you don’t need to overthink it.”
I ignored the annoyance in his voice. “Do people ever puke in here?”
That got a reaction. The man grimaced. “Yeah. Late nights, weekends, college kids. Always a mess.”
I chuckled. “Do you charge extra for that?”
“Cleaning fee,” he said shortly. “You really never heard of Uber before?”
“First time,” I said with a grin. “Not bad so far.”
The rest of the ride passed in silence, the city blurring past the windows. Concrete and glass skyscrapers gave way to rundown warehouses as we approached the industrial edge of town. When we pulled up to the address, I handed the driver a bill far larger than the fare.
His eyes widened as he pocketed the money. “Uh… thanks. Appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it,” I said, stepping out and closing the door. As the car drove off, I glanced at the shadowy expanse of The Shadow’s garage ahead. The faint hum of magic hung in the air, just perceptible if you knew how to listen for it. I stuffed my hands into my pockets and muttered to myself, “Guess that wasn’t so bad after all.”
With a sigh, I strode toward the Veil tear. I hadn’t anticipated sleeping over at Eva’s. This assignment was turning into more trouble than I’d expected, and the day was just getting started.
I walkedinto my beach cottage, the familiar scent of salt and sand mingling with Grelth’s constant cleaning supplies. The soft hiss of steam greeted me as I rounded the corner into the living room, where Grelth, in all his shadowy glory, was hunched over the ironing board.
“Ironing… underwear?” I raised an eyebrow, tossing my keys onto the counter.
Grelth didn’t look up as he meticulously pressed the seams of a pair of black boxer briefs. “Somebody has to maintain standards around here.”
I snorted. “You’re an enigma, Grelth.”
“And you’re starving, I assume,” he replied without missing a beat. “Why don’t you use those hands of yours and make yourself something?”
Leaning against the counter, I smirked. “I thought you lived to serve.”
Grelth finally looked up, his ethereal eyes scanning me from head to toe. He pointed the iron at me accusingly. “You’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday.”
“So?”
He arched a shadowy brow. “Didn’t realize you’d become such a slob. Did you even shower? You smell like a combination of sweat, bad decisions, and misplaced priorities.”
“Misplaced priorities?” I repeated, laughing. “You’ve got jokes this morning.”
“I’m just calling it like I see it,” he said with a shrug, placing the underwear onto a neatly folded stack. “And judging by your face, you didn’t sleep much, either. What’s the matter? A bad dream about that human?”
“Can we skip the interrogation?” I asked, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table. “I need food.”
Grelth sighed, dramatically setting the iron aside. “Fine. But only because I can’t watch you deteriorate into an even bigger mess.”
A short while later, the heavenly aroma of frying bacon filled the air. Grelth worked quickly, assembling the perfect breakfast: four fried eggs, a bowl of creamy grits, fresh fruit, bacon, and sausage links. He slid the plate in front of me with an exasperated flourish. “Here. Eat. And stop whining.”
I didn’t bother with gratitude—he’d just roll his eyes anyway. I dug in, savoring the perfect balance of salt and fat from the bacon. Still, my mind wasn’t on breakfast. It was on Eva.
I couldn’t shake the thought of her pale face, wide-eyed and breathless as she whispered my name over the phone. Nothing that I’d seen since I’d been working with Eva had given me reason to believe she was in any real danger, but after last night, I finally allowed myself to consider if The Shadow’s paranoia was justified. Maybe Eva really was a target because of her connection to Genevieve.
I poked at my grits with the tines of my fork, my appetite waning. Someone tailing her could have been a coincidence, a random creep targeting a beautiful woman in a big city. But combined with her deleted emails and such a high-profile client? The pieces didn’t fit together, and I hated fucking puzzles.
Shaking my head, I pulled out my phone and scrolled to a contact I hadn’t used in months. Owen. If anyone in the human world had their ear to the ground, it was him. He loved moneyalmost as much as I did, and nothing opened lips faster than cash.
Owen picked up on the first ring. “Jareth? My gods, I haven’t heard from you in ages. What the fuck’s going on with you?”
