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“Fuck,” he mumbled, punching the wall for emphasis and knocking a fist-sized hole in it. “Fuck!”
Without waiting for him to finish his epiphany, I gripped his arm, checking briefly to make sure his eyes had returned to brown, and dragged him from the room, thankful for the darkness in the hall to cover the blood stains on the front of his shirt. Once downstairs, I found the nearest woman who looked to be the same age as the woman Frank had been with and told her to call an ambulance. She was on her cell even as she ran upstairs.
Shoving Frank out the front door, I didn’t let go of my grip on his arm until I pushed him into the passenger seat of my car.
“All right, Mike. I got it already. I fucked up.”
“You could’ve killed her, Frank.”
“You said that already.” He huffed.
“Because it’s fucking important.”
I slammed the door before he could respond, moving around the vehicle to get into the driver’s seat. I knew Frank, and he was still young.
He had a lot to learn, but I could help him.
“I’ve fuckinggot it!”Frank slammed his palm on my desk as he strolled past, and I jumped slightly in my chair, watching as Frank’s swagger filled with an extra dose of smugness as though every one of his ideas was gold. He turned back to me. “Are you even paying attention?”
I shook the thoughts from my head, correlating the image of the demon in front of me with the demon in my memory. Frank had come a long way since those days. He was controlled now, and although he used his natural charm more than I’d like him to, he was trustworthy.
Even if he was arrogant as fuck.
“Sorry, was just thinking about when we met properly for the first time.”
Frank’s lip curled in distaste. “Why?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Just this talk about expanding the business made me think of the early days.”
“Well, that’s a nice trip down memory lane and all, but I don’t need the reminder.” He made a point of glancing at my wrists. Even though my sleeves were pulled down and the scars from my severed bonding were not visible, his point was clear. “You understand, right?”
Sneering at him, I couldn’t help the subconscious rub of my wrists and readjustment of my sleeves.
Our architecture firm had been steadily expanding for almost a decade, really kicking off when we moved into our new offices around six years ago. Now, we were looking at next-level expansion—a new branch interstate. But the question was, where would be the best place to start?
“Do tell your wonderful idea,” I muttered, kicking my feet up on my desk and tilting my chair back, the pen I had been jotting notes down with tapping against my jaw.
“Miami Beach.” Frank’s grin was triumphant. His chin tilted slightly upward as if sayingI know I’m a genius, and I’m ready for your applause now.
Smirking, I regarded the younger demon in front of me. Just under two decades ago, I’d decided to bring him on board at my business, which at that time was only me, alone, running off a laptop out of my small apartment. Frank wasn’t overly pleased I’d insisted he get the correct education first, as diplomas in business, accounting, and architecture were a must as far as I was concerned. I’d done it right, and I expected the same from him. If he wanted to live on Earth with me, as a human, then we would do things correctly by the rules of this world, and while demons could be incredibly persuasive through charm and intimidation, I’d never used those abilities to gain my position.
Frank had but only a little.
Probably more than he’d admitted to me.
He’d made a formidable business partner with his savvy, ideas, and willingness to charm the right people. We’d been launched into the public scene after a few choice clients were thrilled with our designs.
Wheredoyou get your inspiration from?
My smirk faltered slightly, for the clean lines and gothic undertones were an adaptation from home.
Hell.
I was coming up on over twenty years on Earth myself, and thankfully, my hair had grayed with time, for otherwise, I would look much too young to be in the position I was. I imagine if I was as public as Frank was, plastering my face in articles and promotional materials, I’d be accused of using Botox, at the very least. I told people I was in my fifties, but the reality was far beyond that.
When my hair started to gray, I let it, and Frank would run his fingers through his dark, curly hair and tell me I was thesophisticated one.I’d ask what that made him, and he’d reply themoneymaker.
Cheeky asshole.
