A Deal with the Bossy Devil by Kyra Parsi

13

It wasa good thing I wasn’t being forced to join Adrien on his morning run because, holy crap, was my head pounding.

I groaned when my wrist started to vibrate, rolling over on the bed. What time is it?

Bzzz bzzz bzzz.

I tried opening my eyes, but the morning light was so painfully bright that I immediately stuffed my face back into the safe darkness of the pillow.

Bzzz bzzz bzzz.

Oh my god, what did he want now? I lifted the shielding pillow just enough to peek at my stupid watch and proceeded to have an immediate heart attack.

Nineteen missed notifications.

Nineteen.

And then I saw the time.

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit.

I jumped out of bed, only to slump right back down with a whimpering moan. Oh god, the nausea.

Bzzz bzzz bzzz.

I stumbled to the bathroom and popped a couple of aspirin before shoving my toothbrush into the side of my mouth.

I was an hour late and there was a good chance I was going to miss my flight. Which would give Adrien an excuse to void the entire deal, and everything—everything—I’d put up with so far was going to have been for nothing.

I ran back into the room and pushed my legs into a pair of jeans, toothbrush still poking out of my mouth. My bra and T-shirt went on the same chaotic way, though thankfully I managed to get very little toothpaste on them.

Bzzz bzzz bzzz.

I bunched my tangled hair into a quick ponytail and rinsed my mouth, my body so full of adrenaline that it overwhelmed the headache and nausea as I scribbled a brief note to Jamie, grabbed my suitcase, and flew out the door.

It wasn’t until I was inside the elevator that I looked at Adrien’s messages. His most recent one popped up first.

I’m at the airport. If you miss the flight, our deal’s off.

Fuck.

* * *

I’d never run so fast in my life—drunk or sober.

My legs burned, my stomach rolling as I sprinted through the airport, praying to every god documented throughout history that I hadn’t missed boarding. At least one of them must have been listening because I made it to the gate just as they were getting ready to close it.

The gate agent kept calling me “lucky” as he scanned my electronic ticket. If he only fucking knew what—and who—I was currently dealing with. “Lucky” was the absolute last adjective I’d use to describe my current circumstances.

I panted my way through the loading bridge, my carryon rolling noisily behind me. And I was so nauseous and exhausted that I barely registered the fact that Adrien had booked me a first-class ticket. I simply slumped into the seat beside him as the kind flight attendant hoisted my bag into the overhead bin for me.

“You made it,” Adrien noted dryly as he tapped away on his phone.

I wheeze-mumbled incoherently in response.

“With less than a minute to spare and toothpaste on your shirt,” he went on, continuing to stare at his screen. How did he even know? He hadn’t looked at me once so far.

“Sorry,” I managed between all the huffing and puffing. And I meant it. According to his messages, he’d waited for me for an extra thirty minutes before hopping into a cab.

Adrien didn’t respond to my apology. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all until we were up in the air and the first round of snacks had been distributed, waiting until my mouth was full of dry crackers before he asked, “Did Toebeans like his gift?”

The crackers turned into wet lumps of sawdust in my mouth, and I had to drown half my coffee to get them down.

“He loved it,” I eventually croaked. “And so did, um, Jamie,” I added since that was what he was really asking.

He nodded curtly. “Good. I’m glad.”

I sipped my coffee again.

My nausea had been starting to subside before this conversation, but now my head was filled with images of Jamie and Adrien getting married in the Bahamas at sunset, dancing their first dance to John Legend, and it was making my stomach twist all over again.

Our lives were going to be intertwined forever. I’d have to see him at every single Christmas and every single birthday, and I’d have to be nice to him the whole time.

“Sanchez?”

My attention darted back to Adrien who was watching me with his brows furrowed. And holy hell, how were his eyes so vibrantly green?

I wonder if their kids will inherit—oh my god, no. Please stop.

I cleared my throat. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

I blinked at him. “What?”

“Are you… okay?” he asked again. “You look a little pale.”

My mouth floundered as I tried to string together an explanation for my sickly complexion, but what came out was: “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Adrien’s frown tightened, his head ticking to the side as my mouth went dry.

“Or a boyfriend?” The clarification was supposed to make things better. It didn’t.

“Why?”

On the bright side, at least I had some color in my face now.

“U-um, I’m not, like, asking for me,” I clarified eloquently. It was for Jamie. Not for Jamie, but for my own peace of mind regarding Jamie. Because if he had a romantic partner, then all my worrying was for naught. “I’m just… wondering for other people.”

Adrien gave me another long, suspicious look. “No.”

I sighed, slumping back in my seat. “Okay.”

I guess this was really going to happen. And the only thing I could do was sit back and watch the two of them—

“Do you?”

I glanced up at him again. He was still frowning, but there was something else in his expression too. Curiosity, maybe.

“Do I what?” I asked.

“Are you seeing anybody?”

And here it was—my chance to fix this whole thing. All I had to do was cover my nose and lie. Tell him that Jamie and I were in a loving, committed relationship and I was planning to propose to her on her birthday this year. And boom, problem solved.

But even I wasn’t that selfish. Because… I don’t know—what if he was her lobster or something? I absolutely abhorred the idea of the two of them together, and I could voice my concerns to Jamie, but I wouldn’t get in the way of her potential happiness.

I would figure out a way to shrink his testicles into little raisins if he hurt her though.

“No,” I answered. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Good.”

Wait. “Why’s that good?”

Adrien reached into his pocket and pulled something out. A dark velvet box.

“We need to talk about Victoria.”