A Deal with the Bossy Devil by Kyra Parsi

38

We stumbledinto the backseat of Adrien’s car, our limbs and mouths tangled with clumsy desperation.

I’d missed him. Really, I’d missed him.

“I’m sorry,” I kept breathing every chance I got. “I was an asshole. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” he kept murmuring every chance he got. “For everything. I’m sorry.”

Until it inevitably reached the point where we were arguing about who was more sorry, and who was more in the wrong.

“Stop. Apologizing,” I demanded at one point, biting his lip with a scowl.

He gripped my straddling hips tighter, pressing me closer. “No. I’ll be apologizing for a long fucking time. Get used to it.”

How was it possible for one person to be this exasperating? He was so damn stubborn.

I kissed him harder, fisting the collar of his shirt as I fought him with my lips, teeth, and tongue.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he murmured when I moved my attention to his jaw, my heart hammering against his heaving chest. “It’s been torture, Sanchez.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again.

“Stop it,” he insisted again.

“No,” I mimicked, deepening my voice. “Get used to it.”

He chuckled. “Stubborn little brat.”

I pulled back and gave him my brattiest smile as my hips rocked against his hard length.

He inhaled sharply, head falling back against the leather seat as his fingers dug into my thighs.

“What’s your safeword, Mr. Cloutier?” I teased, pulling a dark chuckle out of him.

“Not here. Not after all that torture and wait.”

“We can go upstairs,” I suggested. “But Jamie’s asleep, so we’ll have to be really quiet.”

His hazy gaze swam across my face, tracing every little line and dip and curve. His expression had sobered by the time he reached my eyes again.

“What?” I asked. Too soon? Was I moving too quickly?

After a long, dense pause, he asked, “Do you still hate me?”

What? He already knew I didn’t. He’d been telling me so since Victoria, even though I kept insisting—oh. I see.

My fingers trailed across his kiss-swollen bottom lip as I shook my head. “No,” I said.

His breath caught, his throat moving with a soft swallow. “Do you have feelings for me, Sanchez?”

Th-thump th-thump th-thump.

“Absolutely yes, Cloutier,” I whispered.

A single dimple. “Do I give you butterflies?”

“Yes.”

Two dimples. And the man was full-on blushing now.

Adorable. Infuriatingly adorable.

“Now can we go upstairs?” I said.

He kissed the corner of my smile. “I don’t put out before the third date,” he muttered, then leaned back again, looking all smug and pleased with himself.

I bit back my laugh. “And which number is this?”

He made an O with his fist.

“That’s bullshit,” I argued. “Tonight has to count, and so does the blue alien day. So, we’re at minimum two now. Three if we count the hiking day.”

“No,” he said.

“You’re being annoying.”

“Yes.”

“Adrien!”

“Ria!”

It was very difficult to scowl at him when my facial muscles were fighting a grin.

“I’m not asking you out,” I told him seriously.

“Your nostril just flared.”

He chuckled when I went for the door handle, pulling me back to his lap. “Sanchez, go on a date with me.”

I considered him with cool, unbothered nonchalance. “I shall think about it when the mood strikes,” I said breezily, then I reached for the handle again.

His fingers circled my wrist and pulled it back. “Friday night. I’ll pick you up at six. Dinner and drinks.”

I kissed him deeply, waiting for him to melt into it before I pulled back with another bratty smirk. “Beg, Mr. Cloutier,” I demanded. “Ask me to go out with you nicely.”

His dark eyes shimmered with unfiltered amusement, like that was exactly the type of unexpected response he’d hoped I’d give him.

“Ariana Sanchez, please, please, please go out with me,” he teased, mimicking my voice.

I stifled my giggle, mimicking him right back when I retorted, “You’re really bad at this.”

“All right. Fine,” he said with a grin, right before he gently removed me from his lap, stepped out of the car, and dropped to his knees in front of the open door.

My jaw hit the seat.

“Ariana Sanchez, would you please go on a date with me this Friday night?”

My heart leaped in my chest as I glanced around, trying to make sure no one else was around.

“What are you doing!” I hissed. “Get up!”

“Will you go on a date with me?”

I was barreling toward a cardiac episode. I could feel it.

“Adrien! Get. Up.” I grabbed his arm, tried pulling him back inside.

“Answer me first.”

“Yes!” I whisper-yelled at his stupid, beautiful dimples. “Obviously yes! Now get up!”

He huffed another chuckle, then stood and held out his hand for me. “Come on,” he said, “I’ll walk you to your door.”

I released a heavy breath and slipped my fingers into his large palm.

“I’m gonna make you pay for that,” I grumbled with unconvincing disapproval when we reached the third floor. My pulse was still pounding.

“Can’t wait.” He kissed my temple, still smiling. “Night, pretty girl.”

* * *

Adrien didn’t ask or push me about the Kanun interview. When I woke up the next morning and saw his name pop up on my phone, I thought maybe he’d at least hint at it, but it was just a very sweet good morning text that I stared at for way too long, gushing internally.

Jamie, on the other hand, had never heard the word boundaryin her life. I was in the middle of typing out my carefully crafted response to Adrien when the honey-haired Tasmanian devil kicked down my door. Next thing I knew, I was staring down a barrel of doom.

“Where’d you get a water gun?” I asked, tucking my phone under the protection of my blanket.

“Get up,” she demanded coldly. “You have an interview in five hours.”

“I don’t even know if I’m—pfthshh Jamie!” I hurled my pillow at her.

“Up!” she commanded again. “I’ve got coffee and breakfast ready, and five outfits laid out for you to choose from.”

“Do you really?”

“Yeah. And interview prep questions. I’ve taken the morning off so we can go over them.”

“That’s really nice, Jamie. You’re such a good friend.”

She grinned boastfully, shoulders pushing back. Like a fool. “I know. Some people might say I’m babying you. But to them, I say, fuck—”

I lunged the second she lowered her defenses, grappling the water gun out of her grip.

“Well, well, well,” I said as she raised her hands. “If it isn’t the consequences of your own actions.”

Toebeans chose that exact moment to waddle gracefully into my room, meowing for attention like his tail was on fire.

“Morning, cutie,” I cooed as he snaked between Jamie’s legs.

“All right, actual truce,” she said. “He’ll throw a literal hissy fit if you get a drop on him. Also, the interview. You’re going. I don’t care if I have to drag you down there kicking and screaming, you’re going.”

I lowered my gun, pouting in thought.

Normally this would be a mistake. She’d jump for the gun the second I stopped gripping it with both hands. Today, though, she just watched as I tossed it onto my bed.

I wrapped my arms around her waist, hugging my Jamie tight. “I don’t deserve you,” I told her honestly.

She returned my embrace, sighing dramatically. “No one does. I’m amazing.”

I hummed my sincere agreement. “And Jams?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “And Ree?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re going.”

I released her and took a step back. There was only one right answer, and we both knew it. “I’m going,” I confirmed.

She smiled.

I smiled.

Three, two—we dove for the water gun at the same time.

* * *

For the third time in the span of two months, I managed to sneak up to Adrien Cloutier’s office without a single person trying to stop me. Even though I tore into the building like a tornado, looking ten million shades of unhinged.

He grinned when he saw me, rising to his feet as I ran into the room and hurled myself into his open arms.

“You crushed it,” he murmured into my hair. “Fucking crushed it.”

I was beyond words. I’d used all the ones I knew in the three-hour interview, and I didn’t have any left. So, I just clung to him, savoring this moment, this day, the million things I was feeling.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” he said as I stuffed my tear-stained cheeks into the crook of his neck. “He called. They’re obsessed with you, Ria. You crushed it.”

I choked out a cry into his neck.

It was amazing. The interview, the opportunities, Sunny. It was everything eighteen-year-old me would have wanted, and so much more. I didn’t even realize how badly I’d still been clinging on to the dream until I was there, talking to Sunny about what the next decade of my life would look like.

For the first time in ten years, I was looking forward to tomorrow.

“Baby.” I was swept off my feet and carried to the couch. Adrien held me to his chest while I wept tears of sadness, joy, hope, relief, gratitude. So much fucking gratitude.

The firm was going to pay for everything—undergrad, law school, living expenses—so long as I agreed to a five-year employment term with them after graduation. Just five. It was beyond generous for what they were offering, and it was all because of Adrien.

Sunny told me all the things Adrien had said about me. All the overly generous, kind, lovely things Adrien had said to convince Sunny to take me under his wing. I’d never forget it for as long as I lived.

It had taken every ounce of willpower I had not to get emotional during the interview, which meant that it all began to spill out the second I left the building.

“Thank you,” I choked out.

He kissed my temple, running soothing fingers through my hair.

Then he told me he didn’t want to hear it. That I’d earned every bit of the opportunity and more. And he held me until I calmed down enough to peel my face away from the crook of his neck.

I cupped his jaw, tilting it so I could kiss him.

“Thank you,” I said again, putting a stop to his incoming protests with a brush of my thumb across his lips. “Really, Adrien. Thank you. This is everything.”

And one day I’d figure out a way to show him just how much I appreciated it.

He turned his face into my palm, placing a long kiss on it. “This is just the beginning, Ria. Just wait and see.”