A Deal with the Bossy Devil by Kyra Parsi

8

Death.That was what I wished for when the stupid wind chimes went off at 3:47 in the morning.

I shut off the alarm with a groan, forcing myself out of bed and into the bathroom. There was no time to hit Snooze or make coffee.

How the hell did I used to enjoy this? I wondered as I splashed cold water on my face.

I used to be an early-morning person. Used to enjoy waking up before the sun and getting a head start on my day.

Now, though? I’d gone to sleep with my workout clothes on last night—socks and sports bra and all—just so I’d have an extra two minutes in bed. Except I’d been dreading the early alarm so much that I’d tossed and turned for two whole hours before finally falling asleep.

Toebeans was lounged right beside my runners, watching me curiously as I tied my shoelaces. And because we were still in a fight, I only gave him three chin scratches and one compliment before slipping out the door.

Cold, I know. But the traitor deserved it.

The lobby was empty when I got there, save for the two security guards seated behind the concierge desk, which made sense. Most people in this building were probably sane, rational humans who didn’t feel the need to start their day before god herself had woken up.

Then again, most people weren’t the literal devil incarnate. He was probably avoiding her on purpose.

A swift glance at my phone told me I had exactly four minutes to get my stretching in, which I desperately needed to do. I hadn’t gone for a run in almost ten years, and my muscles were going to hate me for what I was about to put them through.

I only had two goals for this morning: don’t stop (because Adrien would just use it as an excuse to cancel the deal), and don’t throw up (because I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction).

If I could manage both, I’d consider this entire day a win.

I stepped out into the chilly morning air and started to stretch. It was cold enough to warrant a pair of gloves, and probably some earmuffs, but it was too late to fetch any of that now, so I continued to stretch. And stretch.

And… stretch.

I looked at my phone. 4:09.

Maybe he’s waiting in the lobby.

I pulled the door open and glanced around, but it was still empty. So I continued to wait. And wait.

And… wait.

There was still no sign of him forty minutes later, and no call, text, or email to let me know if the plan had changed. And since I still didn’t have his contact information, I couldn’t reach out myself. Eventually, I caved and went to the security desk.

“Excuse me. I’m sorry to bother you so early,” I said, offering the two bearded men an apologetic smile as I approached. They weren’t the same guys that I’d seen when I came downstairs, so the morning shift change had already happened. That was how long Adrien had made me wait. “But is there any chance you’d be able to help me get in touch with a resident in this building?”

The one on the left gave me a bit of a skeptical once-over. “Who are you trying to get in touch with?” he asked.

“His name is Adrien Cloutier. I’m not sure which floor he’s on, but he was supposed to meet me down here… at…” I trailed off, confused by the way they were reacting.

They shot each other a knowing glance as soon as I said Adrien’s name and one of them actually rolled his eyes at me.

“Yeah, okay,” the one with the long, well-groomed brown beard said in a dismissive tone. “Miss, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave the premises before I call the cops.”

Uh… “Excuse me?”

“Adrien Cloutier doesn’t live here. You’ve got the wrong building,” the one with the shorter, much lighter beard explained.

But that didn’t make any sense. “Are you… are you sure? Because he—”

“Ma’am, I’m asking you to leave. Now.” Brown Beard stood up and I instinctively backed away from the counter.

I didn’t have nearly enough caffeine in my system to try and figure out what the hell his problem was, so I just nodded. “Um… okay. Sorry. I’m just gonna…” I pointed a limp finger toward the elevators. “I’m just gonna go back upstairs.”

What happened next was so absurdly outrageous that I was convinced this whole thing was a dream. That my alarm had gone off at 3:45, and instead of rolling out of bed, I’d hit snooze and fallen back asleep. Because the second I started to make my hasty retreat, Brown Beard exclaimed, “We’ve got a runner!”

Before I could wrap my mind around what that could have meant, Blonde Beard had swung himself over the counter and was charging right at me. We went down hard and fast; me with a startled yelp, Blonde Beard with what could only be described as a barbaric battle cry.

“Gotcha,” my attacker huffed smugly, securing my wrists in front of me before sitting me up. Next thing I knew, I was being cuffed.

“Dude, what the actual fuck? Let me go!”

“I don’t think so,” he said, cheeks pink, eyes wide. “We’re sick and tired of you lot. You won’t even let the man go on his morning runs in peace.”

What the hell was he talking about? “I live here.”

He snorted. “Okay.”

Brown Beard was typing something on his phone.

“I live in this building,” I repeated. “I moved in yesterday.”

But he wouldn’t listen. “Nice try. We’ve heard that one before, though.”

That was when I started to get annoyed. Why did everybody and their mother think I was stalking the man? “Oh my god—here.” I jutted out my hip. “Unit 1102. The key is in my pocket. Take it out.”

The two guards exchanged another look, but Blonde Beard reached into my pocket anyway and took out the keys. He blinked down at them, his forehead scrunching into a harsh frown.

It was my turn to be smug. “Told you. Now let me go before I—”

“Where’d you get these?” he asked, cutting me off.

What language was I speaking? “For the last time, I live here.”

Brown Beard shook his head. “We didn’t receive a notice of a new move-in to that unit. You need to tell us where you got the keys.”

I floundered, trying to come up with an explanation. The fact that I didn’t have Adrien’s contact information didn’t bode well for me. How could I tell them he’d given me the keys when he hadn’t even given me his phone number?

“Um… you can call Adrien,” I tried. “And ask him yourself. My name is Ria Sanchez and I was supposed to meet him down here to go for a run at four.”

Another shared look of skepticism before Blonde Beard said, “All right, ma’am, we’re going to have to ask that you come with us. You’ll need to wait in the back while we get things sorted.”

I shuffled a few inches away from him. “Yeah… no, thank you.”

They could call the cops if they wanted to, but there was no way I’d willingly follow two random men into some back room with my hands cuffed. There was just no way.

“Can you please just let me go?” I asked.

“No can do,” Brown Beard responded. “We’re under strict orders to take these incidents very seriously.”

What incident? I was just doing what I’d been told!

But before I could argue with him, Brown Beard held up his phone and looked at his coworker. “He’ll be down in a bit. No cops yet, but he says to hold her ’til he comes.”

And, just like that, I was being hauled to my feet and guided to the back room. I should have kicked and screamed and fought, but I knew it would have been futile. Or maybe even made things worse.

So I clamped my mouth shut and followed them, rage tearing through my veins.

“Wait here,” Blonde Beard ordered before disappearing.

And, once again, I was trapped inside a locked room, forced to wait for Adrien Cloutier.

Too far. This was officially too fucking far. And we were only five hours into day one.

How the hell was I going to survive an entire month of this bullshit?

I rolled back my shoulders, my heart pounding against my skull as the realization set in. Adrien was going to do everything in his power to make the next thirty days impossible for me. The man was going to drag me through hell and back because that was what he thought I deserved. I was the villain in his story as much as he was the one in mine, and he wanted to watch me suffer. He wanted to seeme react to whatever torture tactics he had planned. That was the whole point of this little stunt of his, and I fucking refused to give him the satisfaction.

So, I sat down on the blue couch, closed my eyes, and focused on my breathing.

There was nothing else. Just me and the air cycling in and out of my lungs. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

Until, finally, the door swung open, and in came Adrien.