Chapter 3
The elevator to sixty-six had never climbed so slowly.
Ava watched the numbers tick upward. She’d chosen her most conservative suit. Charcoal gray. Sharp lines. Armor for whatever came next.
The weekend had been a blur. Mia’s questions she couldn’t answer. Her parents’ calls she couldn’t return. Hours spent staring at her laptop, researching demon mythology, finding nothing useful.
Sunday afternoon, she’d walked past three other law firms. Morrison & Reed with its gleaming lobby. Hartwell Associates with the friendly receptionist visible through the glass. Even the small practice on Lexington where she’d interned one summer.
She’d stopped outside each one. Imagined walking in, handing over her resume, starting fresh somewhere normal. Somewhere safe.
At Morrison & Reed, she’d actually reached for the door.
Then she’d thought about the contracts she’d already read. The languages Victor had started teaching her. The way the law suddenly made sense when you understood both sides of it, human and otherwise.
She’d walked away.
“You’re being an idiot,” Mia had said that night, watching Ava pack her briefcase.
“Probably.”
“You could die. You could literally die.”
“I could die crossing the street.”
“That’s not the same and you know it.” Mia had grabbed her arm. “Ava. Why are you going back?”
She hadn’t had a good answer. Just a feeling that walking away from this would mean walking away from something she’d never find again.
So here she was. Monday morning. About to fake-date a demon.
The elevator dinged.
Derek practically fell out of his chair when he saw her. His coffee mug hit the floor, brown liquid spreading across the marble.
“You came back.” He scrambled for paper towels. “Shit. Sorry. I just—most people don’t.”
“Most people?”
“The ones who find out.” He mopped at the floor without looking up. “Victor’s waiting. Conference Room Seven.”
Of course he was.
She knocked once and entered.
Victor stood by the windows, hands clasped behind his back. Morning light caught his profile, too precise, too still, like a photograph of something pretending to be human.
“You’re early,” he said without turning.
“By two minutes.”
“Two minutes.” Now he turned. His eyes found hers immediately. “So. You’ve decided.”
Ava lifted her chin. “I have questions first.”
“Naturally.” He gestured to a chair.
She remained standing.
“If I stay, what exactly am I agreeing to?”
“Employment. A salary that eliminates your loans within six months. Access to knowledge most humans never dream of.” He moved closer. “The chance to do things that would seem impossible anywhere else.”
“That’s the pitch you gave Friday. I want specifics.”
“Before we continue.” He stopped. “My instruction when you left. Did you follow it?”
“What instruction?”
“Did you speak of my offer, or my nature, to anyone?”
She froze.
“Ah.” His expression cooled. “You did.”
“I thought you were just…”
“Being clever? I told you, Ms. Feng. I don’t joke.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’ve put yourself in a difficult position.” He moved to the window, presenting his back to her. “Revealing the firm’s secrets, even in private, is a breach of your employment contract. Clause forty-seven. The partners will find out eventually. They always do.”
She swallowed.
“I won’t say anything, of course.” He examined something outside the glass. “You’re free to leave if you wish. But if you stay, you’ll need protection.”
“From who?”
“Management.” He turned. “Lilith in particular. She takes confidentiality very seriously.”
“And you couldn’t stop her?”
“Demon law is complex. Hierarchies, precedents, formal challenges.” He paused. “But there is one protection even she can’t circumvent. An existing claim.”
“A claim.”
“If you’re under another demon’s protection, she can’t touch you without issuing a formal challenge. And challenges have costs.”
“So you’ll put some kind of protective spell on me?”
“No.” Victor straightened his already perfect tie. “We’ll need something more visible. More binding.” A pause. “At least in appearance.”
“What kind of binding?”
“A romantic relationship.”
Ava laughed. Sharp. Disbelieving.
Victor didn’t smile.
“You’re serious.”
“A public romantic relationship establishes my claim. Any demon who challenged that would be challenging me directly.” His dark eyes held hers. “Even Lilith isn’t that reckless.”
“You want me to fake-date you. A demon. My boss.”
“I want to keep you alive, Ms. Feng. The method is incidental.”
Ava stared at him. This was insane. This was absolutely, certifiably insane. She’d come here expecting what? A confidentiality agreement? A stern warning? Not a proposal to pretend she was dating her immortal supervisor.
But the alternative was Lilith. And whatever “accidents” befell humans who knew too much.
She processed this. “How long?”
“Two months. Long enough to establish legitimacy, short enough to end naturally without suspicion. After that, you’ll have passed probation. Full protection under firm policy. We can put this behind us.”
Ava sank into the chair she’d refused earlier. “What would it involve? Specifically.”
“Public appearances. Arriving and leaving work together. Social functions.” He pulled something from thin air, literally, the paper materializing between his fingers. “I’ve drawn up terms.”
Of course he had.
She took the contract. Neat paragraphs, precise language. Her eyes caught on paragraph nine.
“’Physical displays of affection as necessary to maintain credibility.’ That’s vague.”
“Intentionally. We may need to be convincing.”
“How convincing?”
“Depends on the audience. Demons can smell deception.”
“And you think you can fake genuine affection?”
A muscle twitched near his eye. Gone before she could read it. “I’ve had centuries of practice controlling my emotions, Ms. Feng. I think I can manage two months of pretending to find you charming.”
“How flattering.”
“You wanted specifics.” He sat across from her, all business. “This arrangement protects you while allowing you to pursue a career you’re clearly suited for. Unless you’d prefer to forget everything and walk away?”
“No.” She set the contract down. “But I have conditions.”
“Of course you do.”
“First, clear boundaries. Whatever physical displays we need, nothing beyond what’s necessary.”
“Agreed.”
“Second, my personal life stays personal. You don’t meet my parents. You don’t involve yourself beyond the charade.”
“That may prove…”
“Third.” She held up a hand. “Everything in writing. Real terms, not just what you’re showing me. Including an exit clause if you violate boundaries.”
He waved his hand. New paragraphs appeared on the paper, ink spreading like something alive.
“Your terms. As requested.” He paused. “Though I should mention, the protection begins immediately upon agreement. There’s usually a mark.”
“A mark.”
“Think of it as a supernatural stamp. ‘Hands off.’ It fades when the arrangement ends.”
“Where does it go?”
“That varies. Somewhere visible enough to be noticed, discreet enough to cover if necessary.”
She read through the new terms twice. Everything she’d asked for, spelled out in language any court would recognize, human or otherwise.
“This starts immediately?”
“The moment we seal the agreement.”
“How do we seal it?”
Victor stood, extending his hand. “A handshake will suffice.” His hand tightened around hers, barely perceptible. “But we’ll need to establish the public claim immediately. Lilith arrives at nine-thirty.”
“Establish it how?”
“A kiss.”
The pendant burned.
“You want to kiss me. Here. Now.”
“Want is a strong word. It’s necessary for the protection to take effect. And frankly, Ms. Feng, we’ll need the practice if we’re going to convince anyone this is real.”
She stood. Squared her shoulders. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
“Ever the romantic.”
The conference room door burst open.
“Victor, I need the Morrison files…”
Lilith stopped. Her crimson dress caught the light like fresh blood. Her eyes moved from Victor’s position to Ava’s face to the space between them.
“Am I interrupting?”
Victor didn’t step back. If anything, he shifted closer. “Yes.”
“Ms. Feng.” Lilith’s smile showed too many teeth. “I thought you’d have run screaming by now. Most humans do when they learn the truth.”
“I’m not most humans.”
“No.” Lilith circled them slowly. A predator assessing prey. “Clever little thing, aren’t you? Tell me, does your cleverness extend to understanding what you’re playing with?”
“Lilith.” Victor’s voice carried an edge Ava hadn’t heard before.
“What? I’m curious.” She stopped behind Ava. Close enough that Ava could smell her perfume, something sweet and rotting underneath. “Humans are so fragile. So temporary. One wrong move and—”
She snapped her fingers next to Ava’s ear.
Ava didn’t flinch.
“Are you threatening me?”
“Threatening?” Lilith laughed, low and musical. “That would be against company policy. But humans who get too close to our world do tend to have… accidents.”
“Enough.” Victor moved, putting himself between them. “Ms. Feng is under my protection.”
“Is she?” Lilith’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t see any mark. I don’t sense any claim. As far as demon law is concerned, she’s fair game.”
“Not anymore.”
Victor turned to Ava. The question in his eyes was clear.
She gave the smallest nod.
His hand cupped her face. His thumb traced her cheekbone, surprisingly gentle.
“My apologies for the timing,” he murmured, loud enough for Lilith to hear. “I’d planned something more private.”
Then he kissed her.
She expected cold. Calculated. A performance for an audience of one.
She didn’t expect fire.
His lips were warm. His hand tangled in her hair while the other found her waist, pulling her closer.
He deepened the kiss, and she gasped against his mouth.
That was all the invitation he needed.
The hand in her hair tightened, angling her head. She grabbed his shoulders for balance as the world tilted sideways. He tasted like coffee, dark and bitter.