Page 41 of The Devil

“Oh, hell no!” I jump up quickly and begin to walk away again. “I’m going back to my Lucius-free life, which means it’s stress and drama-free too.”

“To totally unsatisfying sex as well?” he asks, to which I stare at him angrily. He merely holds his hands up in a defensive stance and smiles. “Hey,yourwords were ‘totally shit’.”

“Whatever, I’m off,” I call back with a sigh.

I return home in a month and there’s still so much I want to do before I leave. Sitting around arguing with Lucius over the state of my sex life is not something I want to waste time on.

“Enjoy your holiday or whatever this is for you. I’m sure Miss-whoever-it-is-right-now is waiting for you somewhere.”

“Nope, totally alone,” he calls out after me, so I turn and pout at him, feigning pity, before I continue walking again.

Always one to have the last word, he pulls me back by my hand and presses his mouth against mine. A zap of electricity passes through my body momentarily before I can find the strength to push him away. He’s a persistent bastard though, so pulls me back for another kiss, this time swiping his tongue into my mouth for just a second. I angrily jerk my head back, to which he raises his brow, as if asking me why on earth I am trying to stop what I so desperately want.

“Lucius, stop it!”

Only he doesn’t stop, instead, he leans in and kisses me again, holding me close to every part of his body. I can’t resist any longer, so I find myself wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him with equal passion and hunger to that of his own.

“One drink, Topolina, what can happen with just one drink?”

He smiles cheekily, knowing exactly what can happen with ‘one drink’.

“Ok, fine, but no whiskey and no funny business!” I warn him. “Where are you staying anyway?”

“I have a little boat in the marina,” he says coolly.

“But of course you do, no run-of-the-mill, normal hotel for you,” I utter sarcastically, and with an added bit of sass to my voice.

“I’ve missed this feisty little attitude of yours. The pink hair’s growing on me too. Got any other surprises?” he asks, now leading the way to the marina.

“I may or may not have gotten a little tattoo,” I shrug, recalling a drunken night out with Silver and her surfer friends. “Not that you’ll ever see it.”

“Oh, now that’s sparked my interest. I do love a good challenge; care to place a bet on it?”

Helena

When we arrive at the marina, he shows me the ‘little’ boat he was referring to and, very uncoolly, I gawk over its luxury and opulence. It is one of the most impressive boats in the entire marina. I have to crane my neck to see the top deck for goodness’ sake!

A steward is waiting to welcome Lucius back on board, and I can’t help but notice the poor guy looking like a bag of nerves. I can only guess as to what it’s like to work for my own little Satan. Lucius is curt with his staff and orders him to bring champagne to the top deck immediately. The steward nods his head frantically before running off to do his master’s bidding.

“I see you still have such a warm and fuzzy way with people,” I comment dryly as he helps me onboard. “Are theyallafraid of you?”

“The way I like it,” he says arrogantly, “I bet you’re the source of much gossip below decks now.”

“They probably think I’m some sort of dodgy, low-class escort or something,” I mutter. I might not be wearing raunchy clothes, but I am donning pink hair, a skimpy uniform, and a pair of old flip-flops. I don’t suppose I look anything like someone Lucius would normally be dating. “You do realize they probably spit in your food.”

“Probably,” he replies nonchalantly, though I’m not sure which of my statements he’s agreeing with.

We walk upstairs and he shows me into the lounge on the top deck. It’s softly lit and contains a small bar, dining area, and matching navy couches and cushions. The wooden deck flooring is polished to the point of having a reflection, and a deep red rug lies in the middle of it. There are pictures of the boat hung up around the walls and the decorative touches are expensive, albeit completely impersonal.

“Do you actually own this boat?” I ask.

“Only for this vacation,” he answers as he sinks down onto one of the couches.

The Steward brings up an ice bucket with two crystal champagne flutes and a bottle of Moet. He pops the cork and pours two drinks, one for each of us.

“Will there be anything else, Sir?” he asks nervously. I can almost hear him mentally pleading inside his head for there not to be anything else; it sounds much like a tape on constant repeat.

“No thank you, Steven,” Lucius answers without even looking at him, his eyes are firmly fixed on me as I walk over to sit on the couch with him. “Please make yourself scarce and tell the others to do the same. We do not want to be disturbed.”

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