Page 21 of Deal with the Devil

“We’re married, you’ll be my wife.” His accent sounds suddenly thicker. “I will provide for my wife.”

“Okay.” I sense it’s best to just let that one drop for now. “Essentially, we’ll live as roommates. No one needs to know that what we are is fake.”

“I’ve got a few issues with that plan of yours,” he says as the doorbell chimes. “That’s the pizza. Gonna have to press pause on this, Sunshine.”

I stand, swallowing down my nerves and hope. “I’ll get the plates.”

nine

Kane

She’s fucking adorable. It’d be concerning how easily she’s playing into my plans to make her mine, if anyone else but me was playing her.

Carrying the pizza back to the kitchen, I find her standing nervously at the counter with her sleeves pulled over fisted hands. She’s nervous. She’s cute when she’s nervous. Fuck, this girl is cute all the time. The focus of my obsession—not the only disturbing quality I inherited from my father. Hopefully she can love me for it the way my mother loves my father, in spite of all his faults.Because of them.

“You were saying,” she prompts, nibbling the corner of her lip.

“I was?” I know exactly what she’s talking about, but I want to push her.

“You have issues—” She moves just a single step closer to me, raising that little chin. “With my plan.”

“Right.” I open the box of pizza and slide two pieces onto her plate before I drop four onto mine. Her eyes bug, but she doesn’t say anything in response as she slides her plate from the counter and moves to the table. I watch as she tucks one foot under her bum before lifting the other to rest her heel on the seat. She looks like a pretzel. An adorable, entirely edible, pretzel.

I join her at the table and say casually, “We do this, I don’t want anyone knowing the truth. I can’t risk that getting out.”

She makes a motion to ‘zip her lips’. “I won’t tell a soul.”

Fucking hell, she’s cute. “You close to your family?”

She nods and admits softly, “I am.”

“You can’t tell them.”

“I won’t.”

“My friends?—”

“It’s cool if you want them to know?—”

“No.”

She blinks, a sexy bloom of red hitting her cheeks. “Okay.” There’s something deliciously submissive about the way she speaks, the monster inside me hums. “We won’t tell anyone.”

“If no one knows, we’ll have to work hard at appearing real,” I tell her as I take a bite.

She nods, plucking an olive from the top to drop it onto a little pink tongue. When her lips close around it and she sucks the juice, my cock stirs. Then her lips part and her eyes get wide as my words register. “You mean we’ll go out together? Maybe hold hands and, like, kiss every now and again?”

I take another bite and nod once, watching her process. She’s beautiful. Exquisite. A masterpiece—even with the bruises.

I can’t wait for the bruises to be gone.

She speaks again, “But when we’re home, we’ll really just be—like—friends.”

“We’ll need to be comfortable together if people are going to buy this.”

“I’m comfortable with you.”

I let my head bob as I finish another slice. She’s halfway through hers when I stand and make my way to the fridge. “Want a drink?”

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