Chapter 6
Damien
Itear myself away from her again, and it’s even harder this time.
I can tell she wants me. Her large violet eyes are locked on mine, and in them I read a mute plea to stay.
But I won’t give her what she wants. Maybe there’s a streak of sadism in me.
I’ve never thought of myself like that, but the truth is, I could give Igor a run for his money.
She needs to know that I decide.
Besides, there’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while, and this is the first chance I get. I couldn’t do it in the cell because there are no cameras down there. The cell is where people go to be forgotten.
But during her week downstairs, I’ve been busy outfitting the fourth-floor apartment with cameras. Going up to my office, I settle back in my chair and open the feed on my phone.
She’s inched timidly into the living room, staring in awe at her surroundings. I suppose they are a lot nicer than what she’s been accustomed to.
It’s true I never went to the trouble of finding out her name until she was already in my hands, but I didn’t need to. I know exactly the kind of homes Oakley kids grow up in. Abject squalor. I was once an Oakley kid myself, and I have no desire to relive any of it, not even through her.
I actually went out of my way to keep from discovering anything about her. It was enough to see her in the camera surveillance system, to note her worn clothing, the lonely hungriness in her eyes. She was my pet, and that was all.
Of course, once she got mixed up with the nanochip, we had to do a background search.
It took about four seconds for Vincent to find out her name and to dig up the only newsworthy thing about her.
Her parents died in an apparent murder-suicide five years ago, and it was mentioned in a tiny column in the Oakley Times.
There’s nothing though to indicate she’d have any interest in a nanochip or in the annoyingly noisy politician to whom it belonged.
Still, she has somehow got caught up in this clusterfuck of a situation, and that makes her a target.
We’re all in agreement on one subject, at least. Don’t tell her a thing.
Keep her in the dark. Vale and Logan insist on it because they think she’s guilty.
I know she’s innocent. But I also know what happens to people in our world who know too much.
-
It’s eight p.m. when Lucy walks in, carrying a notepad and pen. Time for our evening meeting, only today, I won’t be talking to her about business concerns. Well, not the kind she’s used to.
“The girl’s downstairs on the fourth floor. Apartment B.”
She nods, slightly confused.
“I moved her out of the cell.”
“Oh. Vale said okay?”
I scowl at her. “Since when does Vale get final say? I’m okay with it, and that’s what matters.”
She has the grace to blush. “Right. Sorry. What do you want me to do?”
I take a deep breath. It’s not the 1900s anymore, and it feels somewhat backward to require this of her just because she’s a woman. Though that’s not why I’m asking. She’s the person I trust most, after Logan. And I don’t see myself asking an actual Devil to do… well, chores.
“She has to eat. She’ll need some basic necessities, more clothes than what’s there for the moment. Someone to clean up after her.”
She arches an eyebrow, but doesn’t respond.
She probably guesses what’s coming, but she keeps a neutral expression, waiting.
“The apartment is pretty bare. No toothbrush, cosmetics, tampons, none of the kinds of things a woman may need. But I haven’t been able to find someone worthy of trust on such short notice. ”
She chews the end of her pencil thoughtfully. “How about Igor?”
It’s my turn to look surprised.
“He was taking care of her in the cell, no?” she clarifies.
I snort. “I’d hardly call what he was doing taking care of her. Giving her shitty food three times a day and forgetting to give her the most basic things. She went four days without washing. She lost weight, and she didn’t have much to begin with.”
“Right.” She’s stopped chewing the end of her pencil, and is busy chewing her lower lip instead.
“Besides, Igor likes the basement. That’s his domain, apart from when he comes up for our conferences. He’s used to dealing with prisoners, but I don’t see myself asking him to take care of the girl.”
I would also kill him rather than let him anywhere near her.
Lucy’s still looking a little nervous.
“I realize this might sound like a demotion,” I add quietly. “Asking you to clean and prepare food. Obviously, you’re still a trusted and valued member of our team. In fact, I’ll give you a raise. Both for the added workload, and… your discretion.”
Her nervous look doesn’t go away, but I can’t read her.
I drum my fingers impatiently on my knee.
This is really starting to tick me off. I’m the boss.
I’ve voiced things politely, but it’s not a request. It’s an order.
Since when are my words not taken seriously?
What’s going on this year? First Vale, then Lucy.
My authority is constantly getting undermined.
“Sorry, boss,” she says quickly, apparently noticing my changing mood. “Whatever you say, of course. I was just wondering if she’ll see me.”
I shrug. “I guess. I don’t see how else you’d bring her food and necessities. And you’ll have to clean the apartment once a day. Does it matter?”
“No, not at all.” She gives me a tight smile and walks away.
It occurs to me after she leaves that her question was a bit odd. But I have a lot of work to do, and besides, I want to look at my pet.
I bring up the feed and can’t help but smile when I see she’s fallen asleep on the living room rug, curled up in a little ball.
She hasn’t even tried to open up the doors to the other rooms. Maybe she doesn’t think she can.
Maybe even the living room feels too big for her after her week in the cell.
The smile turns to a scowl. I hate them for what they’ve forced me to do.
But I hate myself even more for giving in to the pressure.
Though I know I did it to protect her, the truth is I shouldn’t have to.
If I were strong enough, my authority wouldn’t even be in question.
Claiming her would be enough to get them to back off.
Instead, I feel weak. Helpless. The cracks in Devil are showing, and ugliness is creeping in.