Page 35 of Client from Hell

I blinked, frowning at the incubus. “Why would you be uncomfortable?”

“He’s after my sister.”

No wonder Lucifer wanted him to have a permanent bed buddy. Jonas needed all the help he could get. The benefits of going with Lucifer’s plan made sense, especially when I took a long, hard look at the green car with a bow, which begged me to drive it. “Please tell me I can drive, Jonas. Please. I will cry in the parking lot if I can’t drive for a while.”

“No more than half an hour, and you promise to pull over if you start feeling unwell or you’re having problems with your vision,” he replied. “If you’re still feeling okay after half an hour, you may continue driving, but at the first sign of fatigue, it’s my turn to drive.”

“That’s more than fair. If this isn’t the car, I’m going to be crying in the parking lot. I won’t cry in the dealership itself, because I have pride.”

“We can cry together, because honestly, I’ll be crying, too.”

I nodded. “Then we are agreed. This car is worth crying for, and we will indulge in copious amounts of heartbreak if this bow is a lie. And then, because you can teleport, as soon as you think it’s safe for you to teleport me, we will indulge in copious amounts of heartbreak on the Devil’s doorstep, after which we will procure the necessary tools to start a fire.” On second thought, I needed to stop mentioning my urges to start fire when the Devil pissed me off.

That would sink my ship.

“Knowing what I know, that’s a potent threat. However, I live there, so I’m going to have to ask you really nicely to not target the house. It’s pretty resilient against fire, seeing as it’s in the middle of a lava field.”

I shrugged. “A woman can dream, right?”

“You sure can. Shall we?” Jonas held out his arm, and the gesture puzzled me for a moment before I remembered some men had been taught linking arms was how they escorted a woman somewhere.

The dated yet charming gesture would give me something to think about later, but I danced to his tune. In a way, I appreciated I could lean on him—and use him to keep my balance while traversing the curb and dodging cracks in the sidewalk.

A salesman met us at the door, an older man wearing a designer suit, the kind the Devil would wear if he wanted to preen in front of an audience. It annoyed me I compared everyone to Lucifer and his wicked ways, especially when he opted to turn on the charm.

“Mr. Esmaranda, Miss Moore,” he greeted. “Shall we get the paperwork out of the way before I show you the vehicle and give you the keys?”

I appreciated his no-nonsense attitude, although it annoyed me I came second string to the incubus. Then, as though sensing my annoyance with the stereotypical sexism, Jonas shrugged and gave my elbow a pat. “Miss Moore is the star of the show, I am merely her servant, driver, and whatever she wishes me to be today.”

With a newfound appreciation for an incubus stating he could be whatever I wanted for the day, I put on my best lawyer face, smiled, and said, “Yes, let’s get the paperwork out of the way. I absolutely can’t wait to get behind the wheel. But I’ll let you drive me around as my servant in a while. I am a generous queen like that.”

“You’re most generous,” Jonas replied in an amused tone. “Do I get to be the prince or the pauper this time?”

“Pauper, but I’ll let you earn your way up towards prince with good behavior.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“And if you want to drive, you’ll accept it,” I countered.

The incubus chuckled. “As I really want to drive it, I’m accepting it with a smile.”

The salesman stared at us, but after a moment, he recovered and held the door open. “If you’ll come this way, Miss Moore?”

I stepped inside the dealership, which featured three other Lamborghinis, all of which likely outran the wind and would result in numerous speeding tickets should I drive them. Taking care to avoid speeding tickets would become an unanticipated challenge in my life.

My parents’ car could barely manage the speed limit on a good day.

Taking notice of my interest in the vehicles, the salesman took the time to introduce us to the other cars, rattling off their specs and confirming my initial suspicion they would beat the wind without breaking a sweat the instant they were freed from the showroom. Once satisfied we had a thorough knowledge of the showcased offerings, he led us to an office which continued the showcase theme, declaring Mr. Porter to be the manager of the dealership and the proud owner of numerous customer service excellence awards issued by Lamborghini.

As part of being an attorney involved tricking other attorneys with my pleasant expression and demeanor, I kept my thoughts and feelings to myself, sat in the chair Jonas held out for me, and prepared for an exercise in fine print.

Maybe attacking the Devil’s wallet appealed, but he would not be taken on the wrong kind of ride because of a dealership’s paperwork. Mr. Porter offered a leather folder to me, which I accepted, placed on the polished wood of his desk, and opened.

The top sheet bore Lamborghini’s embossed logo and a certificate of ownership for a rather limited edition car, and while I got first naming on the sheet, Jonas had a spot on it, too.

Lucifer would pay for making the car a true co-ownership arrangement, and I bet the bastard had done it to encourage me to keep his brother-in-law around permanently—or for the lifespan of the Lamborghini. His ploy stood a high chance of working. As getting angry would do me no good, I purged my annoyance with a soft chuckle and handed the sheet over to Jonas so he could bask in the glow of co-ownership. “You owe your brother-in-law for life, Jonas.”

“I already had, but I’m working on the next life now. I think I’ll hide his wallet behind Darlene’s milk again, as I have never repeated the same trick twice on him yet.”