A Deal with the Bossy Devil by Kyra Parsi

17

I had a problem.

It was not a small problem.

My hands were on my hips, my lips clamped as I stared down at my open suitcase in disbelief. Three unopened boxes of tampons, two crumpled T-shirts, a pair of yoga pants, a handful of hair elastics, a small pouch of tuna-flavored cat treats, an unidentified remote controller (with the batteries taken out for some reason), my passport, and an empty bottle of wine. That was what drunk Ria had packed for this trip. Cat treats and an empty bottle of wine in lieu of underwear.

Oh, and I had nothing to wear to the big party that Adrien had failed to warn me about before we arrived.

Fuck my mess of a life.

I sauntered out of my designated closet with my hands stuffed into the back pockets of my jeans. Adrien was sitting at the oak desk again, working away on his laptop.

“Hey, any chance there’s a mall close by here somewhere?” I asked him, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

He didn’t look up. “There’s a big one ten minutes away. Driving.”

“And what are the chances you’d be cool with me slipping away for a couple of hours tomorrow?”

“Do whatever you want, just be back here in time for dinner. I’m going to be working most of the day anyway.”

Huh. Well, that was easy.

“And, um, we haven’t discussed sleeping arrangements yet,” I said more quietly. Just in case anyone was outside.

That got his full attention. “Didn’t we already agree I’d sleep in the bathtub?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not going to make you sleep in a bathtub for ten nights, Adrien. Unlike you, I actually have a conscience.”

He snorted. “Thanks. I’ll take the floor then, on the right side of the bed. You can sleep on the left. That way you won’t be tempted to stomp on my face in the middle of the night and pretend like it was an accident.”

I bit my bottom lip to stop the smile from forming. He’d plucked that one straight out of my revenge fantasies. “I’m good with that.”

“Great.”

“Cool.”

It was a natural end to the conversation, but I lingered. “And what was with you and Alice at dinner? Anything I should know?”

“It’s nothing,” he said after a short pause.

I crossed my arms, deciding to give him one more chance to tell me the truth. “Are you sure?”

This pause was even longer.

“You’re staring, Cloutier,” I said.

He didn’t crack a smile. “Can I ask you something?”

“That depends. What is it?”

He shut his laptop. “Why didn’t you go to college?”

That had been at the bottom of the list of things I’d been expecting him to ask. It was a good thing I had my answer locked, loaded, and practiced to perfection.

I shrugged. “I didn’t want to.”

I’d said it so many times that it didn’t even feel like a lie anymore. Almost like I’d convinced myself that it was true.

“Bullshit.”

I tensed slightly, my arms pressing tighter to my chest. “Not everyone can afford a university education, Adrien.”

“But you could have,” he countered, standing up. “I’ve seen your transcripts, and I know about all the extracurriculars. Soccer, student council, jazz band, debate, prelaw programs, precollege this and that, and you still somehow managed a near-perfect GPA.”

I wasn’t breathing anymore. I just stood there, trying to look and act as casual as possible as Adrien approached. He stopped a couple feet away and crossed his corded arms, mirroring me.

“Not everyone can afford a college education, but not everyone is you,” he said.

I shrugged. “I don’t know how playing in a jazz band was supposed to help me pay off seventy-thousand dollars’ worth of tuition fees.”

The right corner of his mouth hooked up. “And you do that thing.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you pretend like you don’t know what people are talking about. Like you’re a hell of a lot less intelligent than you actually are.”

I willed my nostrils to stay still. “I don’t do that.”

His mouth twitched. “You’re really going to stand there and pretend like you couldn’t have gotten a full ride to half the universities in the country?”

I took a step back and calmly pressed my shoulders to the wall behind me. “And you’re really going to stand there and pretend like you don’t know about my record? Any half-decent background check would have flagged it, and you hinted at it in your office, remember?”

Adrien’s dark gaze sharpened, and he took another step forward. I had to crane my neck to maintain eye contact. “It doesn’t quite add up.”

“Is there a reason you’ve been so intent on invading my personal space today?” I asked him, trying not to inhale too deeply.

“You don’t like it?”

“No.” It was automatic, I didn’t even think to hide my nose.

His dimples flashed, and something in my chest skipped. “Liar.”

“Do you want me to like it? What’s with the shit-eating grin?”

He shrugged. “Makes the pretending easier if you’re attracted to me.”

“I’m not attracted to you.”

He let out a low chuckle. “It’s worse when you try to stop it from happening.”

I was going to grab the stapler off his desk and staple my nose shut the second this conversation was over.

“And I’d get used to the proximity if I were you,” he went on. “Engaged couples don’t constantly stand four feet apart.”

“Can’t we just be one of those couples that respect each other’s personal bubbles and don't engage in PDA?”

“No.”

“You didn’t even consider it.”

“And I’m not going to.”

I chewed on my bottom lip. “Why am I really here?”

Adrien’s eyes dipped down to my mouth for a split second, his expression entirely blank as he said, “I don’t know. Why didn’t you go to college?”

“I already told you I didn’t want to go. Didn’t think it was worth it,” I insisted, ignoring the tug in my chest. “And you know we’ve been talking for almost ten minutes without actually saying anything?”

Adrien took a step back. “You’re right, this is kind of a waste of time. I’m going to take a shower. The left one in case you give into temptation and want to take a peek.”

And then the fucker winked at me.

I flipped him off and he laughed like my middle finger was the funniest fucking thing he’d seen all day. I didn’t know how or why we’d veered into this line of teasing, but I hated it with every fiber of my being.

* * *

I barely slept.

Adrien didn’t snore, he didn’t toss or turn or talk in his sleep. He was mostly silent and still, his breathing quiet and even. But it was a mental thing. Just knowing that he was sleeping in the same room made me feel… restless.

Plus, I’d been weirdly agitated since dinner last night, though I couldn’t quite figure out why.

When his silent alarm went off at 4:30, I was wide awake, staring up at the dark ceiling.

I sat up. “Are you going for your run?”

He lurched back and almost tripped. “Jesus fucking Christ. I thought you were sleeping.”

“Nope.”

“You look like the girl from The Ring with your hair down like that. Scared the shit out of me.”

“That might be the rudest fucking thing anyone’s ever said to me this early in the morning.”

“You sound like her too,” he grumbled.

“That’s the second rudest thing anyone’s ever said to me this early in the morning.”

He sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m going for a run. Sorry, I didn’t think my alarm would wake you.”

It hadn’t. But before I could respond to him, my attention snagged on the massive bulge tenting his sweats, and my whole brain shut down.

“Take a picture, Sanchez. It’ll last longer.”

Fuck. I tore my eyes away and forced them back up to the ceiling, genuinely grateful that it was too dark in here for him to see the crimson creeping up my neck. I should have just pretended like I was asleep.

Adrien chuckled and mumbled something incoherent under his breath. Three seconds later, the bathroom door clicked shut.

Well, that was… kind of humiliating.

I sat there for a few minutes with my heart hammering and my skin buzzing, until I decided that I was too wound up to sit still for another two hours. So, I pushed myself out of bed and gathered my hair into my usual ponytail. I hadn’t packed a sports bra, but at least I had the yoga pants (that I’d worn to bed, because drunk me apparently didn’t think pajamas were important).

“What are you doing?”

Adrien was already in his running gear when he stepped back into the bedroom—a long-sleeve running shirt and matching black trousers. It took active effort for my eyes to stay on his face and not flick down.

I placed my hands on my hips and shrugged. “I kind of feel like going on a run.”

“You’re wanting to join me on my run?”

My head tilted toward one shoulder. “Is that what I said?”

I could see the amusement begin to worm its way over his features. “Did you bring your mace with you?”

The question made me stop short, horror-stricken. But no. No, if I’d hidden it anywhere in my bag or suitcase, airport security would have probably arrested me or something. So it was probably at home.

I made a mental note to double-check anyway.

“What’s that look?” Adrien asked, eyeing me.

“Nothing. Let’s go.” I turned on my heel and walked out of the room. I didn’t have my running shoes with me, but my sneakers would do.

“Oh, so we are running together.”

“What? No. I was talking to myself,” I said quietly. “Go away.”

“I kind of need to go this way to get to the front door.”

I gave him a side eye and put four feet of distance between our bodies. There. Now we were just two random people walking in the same general direction.

It was still mostly dark when we stepped outside, but the air was warmer than I’d been expecting. And it smelled significantly better than Toronto ever did.

I lingered on the stone steps, listening to the soft chirps of small birds and crickets as I waited for Adrien to start moving.

“What are you doing now?” he asked, coming up behind me.

“Waiting for you to start running so I can go in the opposite direction,” I told him, stepping away. No one was watching us. He didn’t need to be inside my bubble, coating all my fresh air in soap and toothpaste and spicy cedar or whatever. I didn’t understand how he managed to smell so good all the time.

I probably should have brushed my teeth first or, at the very least, used the washroom.

The tented sweatpants thing had really thrown me off.

Not that I was still thinking about it.

My skin was buzzing again, my muscles jittery. Adrien didn’t move right away, so I jogged down the steps, flipped a mental coin, and turned left.

Two breaths later, his steps were pounding the gravel behind me. I veered left again, he followed. I went to the right, same thing.

“Stop following me,” I demanded.

“I’m not following you. This was the direction I was going to run in.”

Fuck’s sake.

I stopped, turned around, and started to jog the other way. Guess what he did.

“On second thought,” he said as he casually fell into step beside me, “we did tell my parents that we run together every morning so it might come across as somewhat suspicious if we split up.”

“We didn’t tell them anything of the sort. It was all you.”

“I was trying to help you.”

“Uh, no. You were trying to help yourself,” I argued. My feet were starting to move quicker. I had no idea where all this energy was coming from, but I was just so… agitated. The feeling had been gnawing at my insides since dinner. “How embarrassing it must be for you to bring someone home that isn’t highly educated and accomplished and… I mean, I get it. You and I don’t exactly make sense, and you wanted to save face.”

“What? That’s not what I was doing.”

“Bullshit.” I picked up my pace.

“Slow down.”

“Fuck off.”

A low, frustrated growl rumbled out of his throat. “What’s the matter with you? Can’t you be civil for two fucking seconds?”

I took a sharp right turn. He didn’t falter.

“With you? No.”

“Why? What the fuck did I do to you?”

That one made me stop right in my tracks. “Is that a serious question?”

Adrien slowed to a stop, hands going on his hips as he turned to face me. He was more out of breath than I was for once, but I didn’t think it had anything to do with the physical exertion. “Yeah, Sanchez. It’s a serious question. Why the hell do you hate me so much?”

“Uh, let’s see. You fired my sister for something that wasn’t her fault, then you made me pick a bunch of glitter out of dirt—” I cut off when he started shaking his head.

“No. I mean before all that. You weren’t sorry about what happened on Halloween, or about what you did to my office. In fact, you laughed like you thought I deserved it. Why?”

I pushed a frustrated breath out of my nose and rolled my lips. “We don’t need to have this conversation now.”

Another shake of his head. “No. We’re talking about it.”

“Why does it even matter?” I asked him. “We’ve got one more week of having to put up with each other, and then that’s it. Not like we’ll ever see each other again.”

Unless him and Jamie ended up dating. Which… honestly just the thought of the two of them together made me queasy again.

“Just tell me the reason,” he pressed, stepping forward.

I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands, so I balled them into fists and crossed my arms. “I don’t know. You just… you weren’t exactly the best boss to my sister. And it was kind of frustrating for me to sit back and watch.”

He studied me for a few breaths, then nodded. “Okay. Why do you think that? Why was I such a terrible boss?”

“Well, for one, she missed her daughter’s sixth birthday party because of you.”

His dark eyes narrowed at me. “What are you talking about?”

“Olive’s birthday celebration. Alba was supposed to get off work at two to come to the theme park with us, but you pulled her into a last-minute meeting. Something about a construction mishap something-something in Quebec. Everything was on metaphorical fire, and she needed to stay.”

A solid ten seconds ticked by with him silently staring at me. And then he said, “Alba has a six-year-old daughter?”

Oh my actual fucking god. “Dude.”

“I don’t think she ever told me.”

“Do you hear yourself? How’s that even possible?”

He frowned to himself.

I rolled my eyes and walked right past him. “That’s about all the explanation you need as to why I think you’re a shit boss. Not to mention the long hours, the weekends, and all the holidays you forced her to work.”

“I didn’t force her to do anything. Your sister was made fully aware of the job requirements before she was hired. She knew the hours, she knew how demanding it would be, and she was well compensated for it. I didn’t sugarcoat anything.”

“I never said you did.” We fell into another light jog. “But making her miss her daughter’s birthday isn’t just demanding, it’s outright cruel. I was the one that had to tell Olive that her mom wasn’t coming. And I was the one that had to comfort her when she cried.”

Ben had been too busy trying to reach Alba again. Probably to argue.

“I didn’t know,” Adrien insisted.

“Well maybe you should have,” I huffed. “Alba worked for you for four years, Adrien. If she didn’t feel like she could come to you with a request as simple as that. And how the hell could you not know about Olive? When she told you she was pregnant, didn’t you think to ask if it was the first one?”

After a long pause, he said, “It’s not… that simple, Ria.”

Bullshit.

Neither of us said anything else as our feet fell into their usual rhythm, Adrien leading the way this time. I didn’t argue or veer off, just followed him through the grounds and down to a small lake. We stopped there just as the sun was starting to come up.

My lungs still burned, my muscles still ached, and my body had protested against every step taken, but it seemed just a little bit easier this time. And it almost felt good now that it was over.

I sighed and sunk down onto the grass, watching the sky bleed soft shades of purple and pink with the impending sunrise. The view was incredible, the morning air was dewy and crisp, and the birds were still chirping sleepily.

It was so calming and perfect that it almost made all the pain worth it. Or maybe the cardio endorphins were starting to set in.

Either way, I was so engrossed in watching the water and the sky, and listening to the crickets and the birds, that I didn’t notice Adrien approaching until he was about a foot away.

He sat down beside me and dusted off his hands, trying to rid them of the wet grass. It was going to be all over our damp butts when we got up.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a while. “And I’ll talk to Alba too. I… really, Sanchez, I didn’t know. We only ever talked about work stuff.”

I peeled my attention away from the soft warmth of the sunrise and met his gaze. His eyes really were an unbelievable shade of wild green, and their surrounding lashes were so thick, I wondered how he could blink without getting them all tangled up.

“You’re staring again,” he said quietly, a smug smile tilting the side of his mediocre mouth.

Okay, you know what? “You keep saying that like you’re not staring right back.”

The little smirk expanded into a full-blown dimplefest, and it made my blood pressure spike so hard I had to look away.

“And now you’re blushing,” he teased.

“I’m not blushing. I’m turning red because looking at your face infuriates me.”

He was sitting on my right side and couldn’t see my left nostril. Not that I was lying.

He let out a dark chuckle. “Is that what it is?”

“Yes.”

“Which part angers you, exactly? Is it my mediocre mouth or my lopsided dimples?”

“Both. And your eyes are weird.”

He snorted.

I looked down at the damp grass my fingers were mindlessly playing with. “I’m sorry too,” I said quietly. “About Halloween. And about the glitter. I didn’t… mean for it all to blow up the way it did… with the investors and the media. It was a lot.”

I could feel him watching me as I struggled through the insufficient apology. And I thought he was going to push for more, but instead he nudged my knee with his knuckles.

“I think we should call a temporary truce,” he said. “Just for the duration of this trip.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “What does that mean?”

“Do you not know what a truce is, Sanchez?”

“Bye.” I started to get up.

Adrien chuckled as he grabbed my arm and pulled me back down. His sizable hand circled my upper arm with ease, which made me think of another unexpectedly large part of his anatomy. I could feel myself tinting pink all over again. With anger, obviously.

“I’m being serious. What if we started over? We don’t have to be friends or anything, but I’d like for us to at least be civil.”

I thought about it. “And I’d have to be nice to you? Like all the time? Not just in front of your family?”

A flash of a dimple. “That would be ideal, but I won’t hold you to it. I’m just asking for us to… take the aggression and animosity down a few notches. Mostly because I’m ninety percent sure that if we keep going down this path, you’re going to kill me in my sleep on night three.”

I sighed. “And then I’ll have to go to court and stand trial. It’ll be a whole thing. Lawyers are expensive as hell too.”

“The life sentence will also be a bummer,” Adrien agreed. “I bet they don’t have any cinnaman-bun or horny blue alien books in there. I bet it’s all highbrow literary fiction.”

He knew full well it was cinnamon rolls and blue aliens with horns, and I refused to acknowledge the wordplay.

“A nightmare,” I said.

“They’ll probably make you read it as punishment. And then you’ll have to write five thousand words on all the motifs and shit you found.”

I cut him another brief glance. “Can I be honest with you about something real quick? I don’t fully know what a motif is. And I got an A in AP English.”

Two unaligned dimples. A chuckle.

“Do you?” I asked, breaking out into my own reluctant smile.

“No fucking idea.”

I wedged my bottom lip between my teeth and looked away, trying not to laugh. I felt much less agitated than I had earlier, and lighter too. I wasn’t sure if it was the run, the nature, or just getting some of the Alba stuff off my chest. Either way… maybe a truce wouldn’t be a bad idea. For my own sanity if nothing else.

“So, what do you think?” Adrien eventually asked. “Temporary truce?”

I inhaled deeply, tilting my head up to the sky. “I’ll think about it.”