The dip beside me was what finally made me check the clock. A big dip. That, and the smell—my mom’s rice. Something meaty.Carne asada. Damn it, that was my favorite. My mouth instantly watered. If someone had brought this in here to taunt me, it probably meant my siblings had already gotten theirgrubby hands on the rest, and by now, it was gone. Figures. Lately, my food pyramid had consisted entirely of Cheetos, Oreos, and whatever flat soda I could find in the back of the fridge.
I dragged the blanket up and glanced at my phone. Almost one in the afternoon. Twenty-two missed calls. Thirteen texts. Thirty-four voicemails. I sighed. For the first time in my life, I totally got why Carrie Bradshaw tossed her phone into the ocean.
This was rock bottom. I had a junk-food zit on my chin, orange dust probably still caked on my fingers, and I was in dire need of a shower. I was also pretty sure my mom had someone watching me at all times. Just in case. Not that she was easily rattled; when my little brother went through his emo phase and threatened to die if he didn’t get his way, she didn't even flinch. She just said, “Don’t get any blood on the carpet.”
“Mom doesn’t allow food outside the dining room,” I grumbled into my pillow. I buried myself deeper, ignoring my salivating taste buds. Whoever was on my bed, I wasn’t engaging.
“Rules don’t apply to me, I guess.”
My eyes snapped open. That voice. I would have recognized that silk-wrapped gravel anywhere.
“Lucifer,” I grunted, turning to confirm.
He tipped his fork in a silent salute. “Present.”
“What the hell are you doing here? In my house? In my room? In mybed?”
“Hello to you too, Ness.” He glanced at his watch—a piece of platinum that definitely cost more than a Honda. “And what a lovely mood you’re in this… afternoon.”
Heat rose under my skin, prickling from head to toe. I wrapped the blanket tighter and huffed a stray hair out of my face. He was lounging against my headboard, a plate of foodbalanced on his lap. Of course my mom had fed him. She still thought he was the boy from our childhood; she didn’t know he was the devil incarnate who had fired me and wrecked my life. I hadn't told her. It would only make her worry.
He set his plate on my stack of abandoned romance novels and flashed a shit-eating grin. God, I hated him.
“You need to crawl back into whatever hole you came from,” I snapped. “We have a crucifix over the door—I’m surprised you didn’t burst into flames on the way in.”
He snorted. “Is that any way to talk to someone who’s here to save you?”
I leaned in, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why would you ever think I need saving?”
For a second, something almost human flickered across his face. Remorse? Then it was gone, replaced by that cold, corporate mask.
“Don’t lose sleep over it, Beelzebub. I don’t need saving. But if I did, I’d do it myself.”
“Is this what saving yourself looks like?” He gestured to the room. “Twenty-seven, back at home, sleeping all day, not eating?”
“I eat.”
“I’m sorry. I meant real food. Not neon-orange dust.”
Insulting the Cheetos was the last straw. “Please don’t pretend you care. Just tell me why you’re here so I can throw you out and move on with my life.”
“I have a proposition. Give me two minutes. Hear me out. If you say no, I’ll leave.”
I laughed bitterly. “What makes you think I’ll say yes? I’m not one of your flavors of the week, Elliott. I don’t find you charming, I don’t melt when you smile, and I definitely don’t work for you anymore. You don't get to give me orders.”
“If you were ever obedient, Vanessa, that would be a terrifying day.”
He was right. Me and obedience didn’t belong in the same galaxy. But then I froze. He had used my full name. He almost never did—to him, I’d always been Ness, the Loch Ness Monster. HearingVanessafelt like a warning.
“Give you what?” I asked, distracted.
“Two minutes.”
Neither of us blinked. In any room, he had always been my equal, and I’d rather die than admit it. We were fire against fire. Nobody won—just scorched earth.
“Fine. Two minutes. Put on a timer. Not a second more.”
He pulled out his phone, unlocked it with a click, and set it on the mattress between us. His knees nearly brushed mine. His gaze drifted down to my bare legs—specifically, the scar on my left knee. My chest tightened. I yanked the blanket higher.
