Page 8 of Hopelessly Teavoted
She walked before she caught any reaction. If she knew her parents, their first move would be to make good on thethreat with their family lawyer, and it would take him some time to draw up the documents, even for his wealthiest clients on retainer.
Vickie was counting on it, because it would give her enough time to sign the paperwork at the bank before anyone caught wind that she was no longer a wealthy heiress. She hadn’t been raised by sharks for nothing. When she pulled up to the Loanly Officers’ Club, the town bank, and the teller ran out to greet her, she knew she had made it.
She would save the tea shop that had meant so much to her as a child. And if she ran into Azrael Hart, she would get to see an old friend again.
She wouldnotthink about that one time at college. She would not think about the brief moment where she’d recognized that her body against his body was the closest she’d ever come to religion. It had been a blip. A one-off six years ago. A strange convergence by a meddlesome universe with a perverse sense of humor.
She was absolutely not thinking about Azrael Hart at all several hours later, as she stood with the little bronze key to his mother’s shop in her hand, staring at the bells above the door. This was her dream, and it was the closest thing to coming home that she would ever have. Shaped like tiny silver skulls, those doorbells reminded her of her old neighbors in a way that made her heart twist. Benedict and Persephone were really gone.
Vickie was about to turn the key when a voice startled her enough to drop it.
“Hello, Victoria,” he purred.
She turned around, but the man who stood in the doorway was unfamiliar to her. Yet there was something about his face that said she knew him. That shewantedto know him.
“Can I help you?” Vickie kept her tone neutral and stooped to pick up the key.
The man shook wavy black hair out of his eyes, which were quite unfairly violet blue. He cracked a breathtaking smile that she was willing to bet had destroyed its fair share of people.
“I believe you can, but it might be better if we went into this quaint little establishment first.” His smile was insouciant, and she scowled at him.
“Just what exactly makes you think I’d invite a man I’ve never met before inside?”
“Ah, pet, that’s not precisely true, though, now is it?”
Victoria prickled at the nickname, and at the sense that he was not lying.
“What could you possibly say to me that would make me change my mind?” She crossed her arms. People were out in the bright morning sunlight, and the street was crowded enough that she had nothing to be afraid of so long as she didn’t go in the store with him.
Which she most definitely was not going to do.
“I regret to inform you that as of 11:05 this morning, your parents, Maximillian and Amelie Starnberger, have cut you off legally, severing all financial and otherworldly ties.”
“Otherworldly? What are you, the world’s most macabre lawyer?”
He smiled wider now, and she cursed her stomach for betraying her by flipping over the beauty of the expression.
“Youcouldcall me that. I’ve been called worse. Demon. Scoundrel. Fallen angel.”
He winked at her, looked around, and waved his hand.
Flame jumped from his fingertips, in a hue she recognized precisely as that which consumed the objects she touched when the ghosts were gone.
“Fuck,” spat Vickie. “You’re an actual devil, aren’t you?Mydevil?”
He shrugged. “Some people call me that, but I find the term a bit judgmental, don’t you?”
“Lucifer,” she breathed, the hairs on the back of her neck rising.
Frowning, he shook his head. “No, but that guyisa piece of work. The greater devils had wings and lost them. As a lesser devil, I’ve never even had wings at all.” He sounded wistful.“I’m Olexandre,” he continued, shaking perfect, glossy hair out of his face. “But you can call me Lex. Now, are you going to let me in, or shall I smite everyone here on the street to give us a wee bit of privacy?” His voice was smooth. Cold. She couldn’t tell if he was bluffing.
Vickie dug her nails into her palms. She had prepared to talk to a ghost today. To outwit her parents and to be cut off if it came to that. To find the nerve to purchase her dream. To grapple, even, with the memory of the incident and what it might mean to run into Azrael again. But she had not, in fact, prepared to deal with the actual devil responsible for her unusual ability.
Fucking Robbie really had picked the absoluteworsttime to break up with her.
Gritting her teeth, she opened the door and gestured for him to go in, following him and doing her best to ignore the view that his strut provided. It was no wonder he was magical; she figured he would have to be to get into pants that snug.
She squashed an indecent impulse to step closer, to run a hand along the pants to see if they were really leather. He was dangerous. It wasn’t her fault she found that a tiny bit hot.
