Chapter 7
T HIS WASN’T HER elevator.
For one, it was too big, practically the size of Sam’s first studio apartment.
Second, it looked like the inside of a pimped-out perfume bottle, like the one her grandmother once owned, a pretty vintage thing made of handblown crystal with a brass collar and an atomizer bulb. Or a whisky decanter, maybe.
Etched with gold leaf and inlaid with gemstones—sparkling emeralds and rubies, blue sapphires and pearls—the walls were gently curved, concave, and made of what looked like frosted sea glass, milky pink.
Plush woven rugs covered the floor, and velvet jewel-toned poufs and pillows lay scattered about.
“Hiya, Sam.”
She tensed, teeth grinding together, and turned slowly in the direction of the voice, hands fisted at her sides.
Perched on the arm of a bubblegum-pink chaise, the bane of Sam’s existence batted her lashes and grinned. “Do you like what I’ve done with the place? I thought the elevator could use a little facelift.”
“ You ,” she growled, a rage unlike any she had felt before overcoming her, her vision tunneling, tinted red. “I’m going to kill you.”
In two strides, she crossed the room, seized Daphne by her dainty shoulders, and shoved her back against the wall, ready to make good on her promise.
“ Ooh , frisky,” Daphne purred, wiggling suggestively in Sam’s hold.
She clenched her jaw. “Try homicidal.”
“I can’t help but wonder,” Daphne mused, “how do you plan on killing that which cannot die?”
Sam resisted the urge to spit. “I don’t know, but I can try.” She set her forearm against Daphne’s throat. “Bet I can still whoop your ass. Get a few good licks in before— oof .”
It happened dizzyingly fast. One second she had Daphne trapped, and the next she was staring at the wall with her arm twisted behind her, her wrist pinned against the small of her back.
“Mm.” Daphne’s breath tickled her ear. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
No warning, no nothing; Daphne licked a stripe up the side of Sam’s neck and—
oh sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Her tongue was forked. Forked like a—like a snake, like a—
Like a demon.
It should’ve disgusted her; it did disgust her. It was depraved, it was wrong, her thighs clenched, and her stomach tensed, and—oh, Sam was going to need so much therapy after this.
“I swear, if you don’t let me go right this instant, I’ll—”
“Make another threat you don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of making good on?” Daphne laughed and the sound sent a shiver up Sam’s spine. “Go on—dazzle me.”
Daphne nipped at her ear with teeth too sharp to be human, then stepped back, letting Sam go.
She shoved away from the wall. “I loathe you.”
Daphne’s bottom lip jutted out. “I’m sensing a lot of hostility from you, Sam.”
“You think?”
“I don’t understand what has your panties in such a twist. You got what you wanted.”
“What I wanted?” Sam cried. “What could possibly make you think that was what I wanted?”
“You wanted to be rich enough to give your dream girl her house in the Hamptons.” Daphne shrugged a shoulder. “Were you not wealthy?”
Well, yes, but—“I assumed I would wake up to find my bank balance had a few extra zeroes on the end of it.”
“And you know what they say about assuming.” Daphne threw herself down on the chaise with a sigh. “Look, if you aren’t happy, maybe you ought to think about what it is you really want.” She rolled onto her side and propped her head on her hand. “Do a little … soul-searching, perhaps?”
Sam glared flatly. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Did what? Follow your request to the letter? Sure did.”
The letter, maybe, but certainly not the spirit. “No, you messed with my wish so I’d have to make another one. That’s what you did.”
“Maybe I took a few creative liberties with the execution, but—”
“Creative liberties?” Sam scoffed. “You made me a criminal.”
“No, I made you a crime lord , sweetheart. Big difference.”
“Yeah! Huge difference! Misdemeanor-petty-theft versus felony-grand-larceny huge! I was looking at twenty-five years in federal prison. Twenty-five. And!” Sam thrust a finger in her face.
“I wasn’t even competent. You made me an incompetent crime lord!
I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. I didn’t even know what was happening!
Everyone thought I was drunk! Or on shrooms, apparently. ”
Daphne batted her hand aside. “You didn’t wish for competence.”
“Well, excuse me for not knowing I needed to!” Sam fumed. “This is—this is bullshit , is what it is. This is not what I agreed to.”
“It’s exactly what you agreed to.” Daphne threw her legs over the edge of the chaise and rose to her feet.
“Did you think you could outwit me? I mean, come on . Do you really think you’re the first person who thought they could make one wish and skip off into the sunset with their soul?
” She tutted. “Nice try, but I wasn’t born yesterday. ”
Sam flushed. Maybe not the first person … “You told me you couldn’t care less about my soul. That you weren’t even the one who wanted it.”
Daphne jabbed a finger into Sam’s chest. “Let’s get something straight here, buttercup.
I’m not your benevolent fairy godmother.
News flash? I’m evil. Whatever my reasons, I’m not granting wishes out of the goodness of my heart.
” She held up her hands. “But, look, if you believe I’ve violated our agreement in any way, you’re welcome to file an injunction with our injustice department. ”
“ In justice department?”
“Sure. You want their phone number?” With a flick of her wrist, a business card appeared between her index and middle fingers. “Here you go.”
It read 666-GET-BENT .
Sam threw the card on the floor with a growl. “You are a real piece of work, you know that?”
“You say the sweetest things,” Daphne simpered, and Sam had to take several deep breaths to keep from lunging at her.
“So, what? I’m just supposed to keep making my wishes and you’re gonna keep corrupting ’em until I run out?”
“No one is forcing you to wish for anything, Sam. Executory consideration, remember?” She swept out a hand and gestured to the metal side-sliding door set into the wall, the only clue that this room had once been an elevator.
Was still an elevator? “No one is stopping you from walking out that door and returning to your life as you know it.”
Life as she knew it meant a life where she and Hannah had broken up, and Sam … Sam wasn’t ready to accept that.
“But you don’t really want to do that, do you?” Daphne mused, as if sensing the direction of Sam’s thoughts. “You’re still so in love with Hannah that you can’t picture a life without her.” She paused. “You can still have everything you want, you know. All you have to do is say—”
“I know how it works,” Sam snapped. “I say I wish , and you give me what I want just half a bubble off plumb, and I wind up in the back of a cruiser in cuffs.”
She was damned if she did, damned if she didn’t, trapped between a rock and a demon.
Daphne held up her hand and stuck out her pinky. “What if I promise I won’t make you a felon this time?”
Sam wrinkled her nose, not even trying to hide her distaste at the idea of locking their pinkies. “You really ought to work on your sales tactics.”
Daphne sighed and dropped her hand. “I’ll admit, I can see how corrupting your last wish might not have engendered the most confidence that I won’t do it again—”
Sam snorted. “Try any confidence.”
“— but , as a gesture of good faith, to prove to you that I’m being sincere, I’ll throw in a complimentary get-out-of-jail-free card with your next wish.
” She snapped her fingers, and another small rectangular card appeared in her hand.
“I, Daphne, a representative of Hell, hereby grant you, Samantha Cooper, legal immunity. Henceforth, from now until the time when ‘nation will rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom and there will be famines, pestilences, and earthquakes in various places’ blah, blah, biblical end of times, blah, you will not be held liable for a violation of law, including criminal prosecution and civil liability.” She brandished the orange card at Sam with a flourish.
“Put plainly, should you decide to, say, evade your taxes or give in to any homicidal urges, you won’t face any legal ramifications.
” She shrugged. “You’ll just feel icky about it. ”
Sam held up the card. “This has the Monopoly man on it. It’s literally from the board game. It even has ‘Parker Brothers, Inc.’ written on it.”
“ And? Ever heard of a gesture?” Daphne rolled her eyes. “I don’t think you realize what a big deal this is, Sam. Do you know how many people have sold their souls just to get out of jail? Here I am giving you my best BOGO and you’re going to look a gift horse in the mouth? Rude.”
“Rude?” Really? “That’s rich coming from you.”
“Fine. In addition to the get-out-of-jail-free card, I’ll sweeten the deal and promise that I won’t put you in a position that would cause jeopardy to life or limb. Happy?”
Sweeten the deal? The bar was in Hell. “Promise you won’t put me in a position that would cause jeopardy to life or limb or land me in prison, and then we’ll talk.”
“I just gave you a get-out-of-jail-free card—”
“And that’s great and all, but Hannah made it clear she couldn’t be with a criminal, so—”
“ No , Hannah made it clear that she couldn’t be with a criminal who got caught .”
Daphne said it as if the distinction was important.
Sam shook her head. It didn’t matter. “Just—promise.”
“ Fine. I promise I won’t put you in a position that would cause jeopardy to your life or limb or land you in prison.
” Daphne crossed her arms, foot tapping impatiently.
“Granting wishes is my art, Sam. I hope you realize this would be like asking Michelangelo or Matisse or Pollock to paint by numbers.”
Tough. Daphne could experiment all she wanted when someone else’s soul was at stake.
Promise or no promise, Sam trusted Daphne about as far as she could throw her, which was to say not at all. But the alternative? Giving up? No way.
Hannah had never given up on her. Well, she hadn’t until she’d turned down Sam’s proposal and broken up with her.
But before that, she hadn’t. From day one, Hannah had been—second to Sam’s parents—her biggest champion, encouraging her to take risks that she might not have otherwise, believing in her when she hadn’t always believed in herself.
Sam owed it to Hannah to try again, loved her too much to throw in the towel. Things had been good between them once and they could be good again. Giving up was not an option.
Sam just had to get her wish right this time. Build on what had worked with her first wish and be ultra specific. Leave absolutely no room for Daphne to twist her words.
What was it Hannah had said back at the restaurant?
When we met, you had so much potential, and I’m not going to wait around a second longer and watch you continue to squander it.
“I’ve got it,” Sam said, knowing what she was going to wish for. “I’m—I’m ready to make my next wish.” “Go on.” Daphne swept out a hand, gesturing that Sam had the floor. “I’m listening.”
“I wish that I were the outrageously successful, wealthy, competent ”—Sam had learned her lesson there—“executive chef of Glut. Oh!” Just in case …
“Without a taste for crime and …” She paused, playing over Hannah’s words, her gripe about Sam spending too much time at work. “With a healthy work-life balance.”
There. She’d checked all of Hannah’s boxes, addressed all the areas in her life where she fell short. With Daphne’s promise and her own careful wording, what could possibly go wrong?
Daphne’s face split in a grin. “Wish granted.”