A Deal with the Bossy Devil by Kyra Parsi

22

“Stop stealing my fruit,you little shit! You’ve already had your breakfast!”

“Alice, no swearing at the breakfast table, please.”

“We’re technically not at a table.”

“Want some?”

“No, thank you, Maxi. Very sweet of you to offer, darling.”

“It’s not your fruit to give out!”

I smiled into my mug as I watched the small circus that was the Cloutiers preparing breakfast.

We were gathered around the large kitchen island, Alice cutting and slicing fruit for her morning smoothie bowl, Maxwell continuously stealing the fruit that Alice was cutting and slicing for her morning smoothie bowl, and Julie trying her best to keep Alice from strangling Maxwell for stealing the fruit that she was cutting and slicing for her morning smoothie bowl.

“Alice. I’m trying to do my crossword. A little less screeching, please?” Anthony said to his daughter.

“Y’all let him get away with murder. This is where he gets all the audacity from. A bunch of enablers,” Alice countered, glaring at Maxwell as he began his stealthy sneak toward her cutting board.

“Newsflash, kid: you spoil him more than anyone else in this house,” Anthony said, a smile in his voice. “No one else has a timer on their phone to put fresh ice in his water every few hours.”

“Because the spoiled brat won’t drink room-temperature liquids,” she argued.

“Because you keep putting ice in his water,” Anthony said.

Alice grumbled under her breath as she returned to her aggressive chopping.

It was awesome. I hadn’t been expecting to warm up to his family this much or this quickly. I really hoped my real future in-laws were this homey and warm. And entertaining.

“Ria, honey, what do you like in your pancakes?” Julie asked as she began opening cupboards and gathering ingredients.

“I’m fine with anything.” Except raisins. But nobody in their right mind put raisins in pancakes (or in anything else for that matter).

“Blueberries okay?”

I smiled at her. “Blueberries are perfect. Thank you.”

Gampy was out on the patio, doing his morning Tai chi, Anthony was seated beside Alice, drinking his coffee and doing his morning crossword puzzle, and Adrien was… somewhere. I’d woken up to an empty bedroom around an hour after he normally went for his runs. And he still wasn’t back yet, so—

My spine perked as the front door opened just then, and sure enough, Adrien rounded the corner a few moments later, holding two small red boxes.

He was wearing a crisp white button-down, black slacks, and did not look like someone who’d just come back from a run. A boardroom, maybe.

“Good morning, everybody.” His face split into a sinister grin, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on me. Then they narrowed. “Sweetheart,” he sneered.

I blinked.

He was walking. Advancing. Practically charging at me.

I released the handle of my mug and took an inadvertent step back. Uh oh.

Adrien tossed the boxes onto the counter and reached for me. He was going to strangle me. Right here, right now. I could see it in his feral eyes. He was going to wrap his fingers around my neck and squeeze until—

My breath caught, my heart jumping into my throat as his one hand slipped to my lower back, the other into my hair. And just as my life began to flash before my eyes, his mouth crashed into mine.

It took a moment for things to click. For my neck to realize it was still attached to the rest of my body. For my heart to realize it was supposed to continue beating. And then…

And then…

My eyes fluttered shut, my thoughts melting to goo against the unexpected warmth of Adrien’s mouth. He tilted his head slightly, his fingers curling into a fist in my hair as he pinned my body to his, deepening the… kiss. He was kissing me.

And that was when the sparks started.

Tiny little tingles biting at my lips and fingertips, my chest, my spine, my curling toes. Until my whole body had flared to life with them. Until my hands were sliding up his chest, fisting the front of his shirt, trying to pull him closer. Until I’d forgotten who I was, where I was, what I’d been—

“Gross. Get a room.”

Alice’s voice tore through the dizzying trance I was in, and I jerked back with a sharp inhale, breaking the kiss.

What the hell?

Adrien didn’t let me go, didn’t allow me to take a step back. His eyes were hazy, his red mouth slowly slanting into an arrogantly victorious grin as he took in my expression.

“Geez, you guys,” Anthony teased lightly.

Julie was beaming like we’d plucked the moon out of the sky and gifted it to her.

“New rule,” Alice decided, her mouth bent with distaste. “No moaning at the breakfast table. Or the kitchen counter. Or anywhere else in the house. Just no moaning, period.”

Red-hot color streaked my cheeks as I contemplated wrestling my way out of Adrien’s arms and bolting for the door. Leaving the country. Changing my name. Who the fuck had moaned? I hadn’t moaned. Had I moaned?

I released my grip on Adrien’s shirt, acutely aware of the greedy little indents my fingers had left behind, and tried to subtly shove myself away.

It backfired.

Adrien sidestepped my attempt at establishing physical distance between our bodies and repositioned himself behind me. His arms snaked around my waist and pulled my back to his hard chest. “I went to the bakery bright and early this morning and picked up a box of your favorites, sweetheart.”

He said sweetheart like it was a vulgar expletive, though I seemed to be the only one that heard it.

“I’m good, thanks,” I croaked, very much tempted to elbow him in the ribs.

I was not tempted to melt against him like butter.

I was not.

“Oh, but I insist. I had them make an extra special batch just for you.”

He’d definitely done something shady and vile to whatever was in the red boxes.

Fucking heathen.

“Julie’s making pancakes,” I informed him. “With, um, blueberries. So, I’m just gonna wait for th-those.”

There should have been a law against smelling so abhorrently good that it messed with people’s abilities to navigate their way through fully coherent sentences.

Adrien’s arms tightened around me, and I refused—absolutely refused—to acknowledge the hardening ridge pressing to my lower back. I was not turned on by any of this. I did not want to turn around and ravish him against the fridge. I did not want him to drag me up the stairs, pin me to the wall, and punish me for what I’d pulled last night.

I was fine.

This was fine.

Anthony kindly poured his son a fresh, steaming cup of coffee before returning to his… sudoku? Crossword? Last will and testament?

I was losing brain cells at an alarmingly rapid rate.

“Oh, don’t worry about the pancakes,” Julie chirped, barely able to contain her excitement as she watched us, entirely unaware of how I was currently plotting her beloved son’s gruesome demise. “Since Addy went through all that trouble to go to the bakery first thing and special-order your favorites…”

She was melting.

Her dreams for her son were coming true, and she was positively melting with happiness.

Adrien brushed the hair away from my ear and neck. My breath did not hitch when his fingers brushed against my skin. I did not shiver.

“Just a bite,” he murmured into my ear evilly. “Since I went through all that trouble.”

“Did you get us anything while you were there?” Alice asked him, glaring at a sneakily approaching Maxwell. The bird had balls, I’d give him that. He wasn’t even remotely deterred by the jab-ready way she was holding that knife.

Or maybe I just had murder on my mind.

Adrien reached for the smaller box and placed it in front of me, then nudged his chin at the bigger one. “That one’s yours.”

Alice threw the lid open, visibly excited as she snatched a chocolate croissant out of the box and bit into it, her shoulders jiggling with happiness. “Yes! Thank you!”

Maxwell took this opportunity to nab a piece of mango out of her bowl and hurriedly hopped back to Anthony for protection in case Alice’s distraction was short-lived. It wasn’t.

“And for you, my love,” Adrien purred hatefully, opening the smaller box. A cinnamon roll, freshly baked to golden perfection. “Just how you like it.”

It looked like a cinnamon roll, it smelledlike a cinnamon roll, my mouth drooled like it was in the presence of a cinnamon roll… but something about it was off.

“Um, why is the icing pink?” I dared to ask, knowing full well I wouldn’t like the answer.

“I’m so glad you asked.” Fuck me. “Since I know how much you love raisins, I had them blend some into the icing for you.”

Ew… ew, what?

Alice made a face as Adrien peeled back the outer layer of the bun to reveal… raisins.

So. Many. Raisins.

Double, maybe even triple, the amount of raisins you’d expect.

Yeah.

Fuck no.

I pushed the box away. “Thanks, babe, but I’m really trying to watch my sugar intake.”

“Nonsense,” he argued softly. “We’re on vacation. You’re allowed to treat yourself.”

“Aren’t they just the sweetest?” Julie said to her husband.

“Very cute,” he agreed.

“They remind me of us.”

“We’re cuter.” He winked at her; she giggled.

“You’re all equally gross,” Alice informed the four of us flatly.

And that was when Adrien made the mistake of reaching for his coffee. I acted before the idea had even fully formed, reaching for two of the ice cubes Alice had put aside for her forgotten smoothie. And then I plopped them right into his cup.

Adrien stiffened, his fingers digging into my hip.

Alice frowned at her brother. “Ew… you like your coffee lukewarm now?”

“I don’t know,” he answered slowly, a dangerous edge to his voice. “Do I?”

I smiled at Alice. “Cat’s out of the bag, I guess. I sneak ice into his morning coffee because he insists on drinking it before it’s had a chance to cool, which is not only bad for his teeth, but my medical intuitive says that’s what’s causing the erectile dys—”

The rest of my sentence was muffled against the massive piece of dough Adrien had torn off the cinnamon bun and stuffed into my mouth.

I almost gagged.

“What’s a medical intuitive?” Anthony asked curiously.

“She’s joking,” Adrien said.

“She’s choking,” Alice corrected.

My eyes were watering, my fists tight as I forced the cursed piece of tainted abomination down my gullet.

I downed the rest of my coffee. It barely helped.

“A medical intuitive,” I started, my voice wobbly, “is a medical practitioner and energy healer who uses their psychic abilities to talk to the dead via tarot cards, crystal balls, and elder wands to—”

Adrien ripped off another piece of dough, ready to shove it into my mouth. But I stomped on his foot before he had the chance, and he dropped it with a sharp exhale.

“Are… the two of you okay?” Julie was frowning now. As was the rest of his family.

Probably because Adrien and I were both breathing rather violently, the air around us cracking as we clenched our jaws, teeth, fingers.

“Excuse us,” Adrien bit out. He grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of the kitchen, up the stairs, into our shared room.

The door banged shut.

I glared at him, my chest heaving with hatred.

He glared at me, his jaw rigid with rage.

“You are,” he started, voice grating with frustration. “Ria, you are the most… I can’t… you just…” His teeth snapped shut, like the amount of sheer exasperation he felt toward me was beyond words.

“I told you,” I seethed. “I told you we wouldn’t be able to do this without wanting to rip each other apart.”

And that was exactly what I wanted to do—rip him apart. Tear into his sanity, his patience, his shirt. I wanted to… I needed to…

I didn’t know which one of us moved first. Whether he grabbed my waist, or I seized his shirt. Whether he pulled me to him, or I yanked him to me.

We collided like two dying stars, our mouths crashing into each other with hungry desperation as everything exploded. My body was burning from the inside out, my limbs vibrating as Adrien backed me up to the wall, his hard length pressing into my stomach.

Finally.

Finally.

I shouldn’t have wanted this. I shouldn’t have whimpered when he pinned me to the wall, or when his tongue shoved into my mouth. I should have pushed him away when he fisted my hair and bit my bottom lip. I should have hated the way my returned bite easily pulled a groan from the pit of his throat. I should have hated the way he felt and tasted.

But holy hell was it a good kiss.

So much so that it started to become confusing. Somewhere along the way, things… shifted. We went from overly frustrated grabbing and biting and clawing to something else entirely. Something a hell of a lot more alarming.

Our tongues stopped shoving, pushing, fighting. And gradually started to explore, nudge, caress. The rough bites turned to gentler nibbles; grabs turned to brushes and strokes; the violent boil in my blood fizzled to warm, tingling sparks, and it… it…

Wow.

I sighed against him, my arms sliding around his neck as we melted into each other, entirely helpless against whatever sorcery had taken over. Adrien let go of my hair, but only so he could cup my jaw, tilt and stroke it as he nibbled at my bottom lip, my chin, jaw, neck, and oh…

Wow.

He grazed his teeth across the sensitive dip between my neck and shoulder, kissing and licking my skin until I was a whimpering, trembling mess. My fingers dug into his shoulder and hair, my breathing labored as the heat pooling in my core threatened to spill over. I was sizzling, buzzing, panting, clinging onto him like my life depended on it.

It felt incredible. He was barely even doing anything, and yet it felt incredible.

I almost whined when he peeled his lips away from my skin, my fingers clawing at his shoulders, trying to pull him back down. But he wouldn’t budge.

“No more,” he panted, his voice rough and grating, almost like he was in pain. He tapped his forehead against mine as we both fought for breath. “No more of whatever… fucked up game this is. I can’t… you’re so deep in my head that I can’t… I can’t fucking think anymore, Sanchez. I can’t sleep… I spent all night…” He shook his head. “I’m not doing this anymore.”

I barely knew what he was talking about. What game?

“I’m going to give you two options,” he said. His hands were on my waist, preventing our bodies from colliding again. “I’m leaving for a meeting in ten minutes, and I’ll be gone until the evening. When I come back, you won’t be here.”

Wait. Wait… what.

I tried to take a step back, but his hold on my waist tightened, keeping me in place.

“That’s option one,” he went on. “I book you a flight, you pack, you leave, and we never see each other again. I’ll keep my end of the deal with Alba. I’ll rehire her, double her maternity compensation, reduce her workload, all of it. But I never want to ever see you again.”

The bitterness in his voice as he repeated the last bit was so palpable, I could almost taste it. It curdled in my ears and sent an unexpected stab through me.

The feeling’s mutual, asshole, I wanted to spit back at him.

So why didn’t I?

“Option number two.” He paused, his eyes searching mine. “You stay. Willingly. And we continue to play.” His thumb brushed my hip, his gaze dipping down to my mouth. “But with new rules. You can run your smart mouth all you want, throw your punches, pick fights, continue to torment me however you see fit… but I get to respond how I see fit.”

The look he gave me left very little room for interpretation. And if it had, the way he pressed our hips together would have cleared things right up.

I opened my mouth to pick the first option—because obviously I was going to pick the first option—but I stopped.

Why did I stop?

“Your flight details will be in your inbox within the hour, and I’ll arrange for a car to pick you up at a tea shop down the road,” he said quietly. “I’ll be back around eight.”

His fingers seemed to hesitate and linger for a moment longer than was necessary, but then he let me go.

“Think about it.”

And then he left.