Chapter 3 #2
Fake dating, she reminded herself. That’s what we agreed to.
So why did his hand on her waist feel so real?
When he broke away, her legs were unsteady. Victor’s eyes were darker than before, the gold flecks burning like distant stars. His thumb brushed her lower lip.
“Mine,” he said, still looking at her.
Warmth spread from where his lips had touched, down her neck, settling above her heart. She pressed her hand to the spot and felt raised skin through her blouse.
“Well.” Lilith’s voice could have frozen the Hudson. “Quite a performance.”
“Effective, I think.” Victor hadn’t looked away from Ava. “Ms. Feng and I have been discussing this all weekend. Haven’t we, darling?”
“Yes.” She surprised herself with how steady she sounded.
“How convenient.” Lilith moved toward the door, her heels striking the floor. “Do try not to break this one, Victor. Such a waste to lose another promising associate to unfortunate circumstances.”
The door slammed hard enough to rattle the windows.
Victor stepped back.
Not immediately. His hand stayed on her waist a beat too long, his gaze caught on her mouth. Then surprise crossed his face — raw, unguarded, gone before she could be sure she’d seen it.
Then he was three feet away, straightening his tie, and the moment was gone.
Ava’s legs weren’t working properly. She reached for the conference table, steadying herself against the polished wood. Her heart was pounding. Her lips were tingling. The spot above her heart burned like she’d pressed a hot coal to her skin.
Fake, she reminded herself. That was fake.
But her body hadn’t gotten the memo.
“Are you alright?” Victor’s voice was carefully neutral.
“I—” She touched her lips. Still tingling. “That was necessary?”
“A chaste peck wouldn’t have convinced her.” He finished with his tie. His hands, she noticed, weren’t quite steady either. “The mark should be visible now. May I?”
She nodded.
His fingers were clinical as they unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse, pushing the fabric aside just enough to reveal her collarbone.
There. Just above her heart. A mark the size of a silver dollar, shimmering ink forming interlocking circles and symbols she couldn’t read.
“It’s beautiful,” she admitted.
“It’s protection.” He rebuttoned her blouse with the same efficiency. “It warns other demons you’re claimed.”
“Do you have one?”
“No. The claiming demon doesn’t need a mark.” His mouth curved slightly. “Everyone knows who I am.”
He returned to the table, all business again. Like the kiss hadn’t happened. Like she wasn’t still feeling it in every nerve ending.
“We should discuss logistics. You’ll need to move some belongings to my apartment.”
“Excuse me?”
“For appearances. Lilith will be watching for inconsistencies. If we’re together, you’d be spending nights there.”
“I’m not moving in with you.”
She said it too quickly. Too sharp. Victor’s eyebrow lifted a fraction.
“Not permanently. Clothes, toiletries, evidence of presence.” He pulled out his phone. “I have a guest room. Separate bathroom. A lock on the door, if that helps.”
A lock on the door. As if the problem was her safety. As if she needed protection from him.
She remembered his hand in her hair. The way he’d angled her head back. The sound she’d made against his mouth.
Fake, she reminded herself again. All fake.
“When would I need to actually stay there?”
“Social functions. Late work nights when being seen leaving together matters.” He looked up from his phone, his expression unreadable. “Perhaps twice a week initially. Tapering off as the arrangement becomes established.”
Two nights a week. In his apartment. With a lock on the door and sixty days of pretending she hadn’t felt something in that kiss.
Ava weighed her options. A few nights a week in a guest room, or more kisses like that one in public. More opportunities for her body to betray what her mind knew was fake.
“Guest room,” she said firmly.
“Sensible.” He stood. “I’ll have Derek arrange access. You can move things in tonight. We’ll arrive together tomorrow to solidify the impression.”
“This is insane.”
“This is necessary.” His jaw loosened, barely, but she caught it. “I know it’s not ideal, Ms. Feng. But it will keep you safe while you learn to navigate this world. Two months. Then you’re free.”
“Fifty-six days,” she corrected.
“Counting already?”
“I’m a lawyer. I always count.”
That almost-smile again. “Good. Keep counting. It’s the only way to survive here.”
He moved toward the door, then paused.
“One more thing. You’ll need to call me Victor in public. The formality would seem odd for a couple.”
“Victor.” She tested it. Strange on her tongue.
“And you’re Ava. Not Ms. Feng.” His eyes held hers. “At least when others can hear.”
“Fine. Victor.”
“The mark will feel tender for the first few hours. That’s normal.” He opened the door. “If it starts to burn, find me immediately.”
“Why would it burn?”
“You don’t want to know.”
He was gone.
Her phone buzzed. Mia: How’s the demon boss? Did you quit? Are you possessed? Text me back or I’m calling an exorcist.
Ava typed: Not possessed. Can’t quit. Will explain tonight. Also, I might need to borrow a dress.
A DRESS? Who are you and what have you done with my roommate?
She touched the mark through her blouse.
You didn’t answer the dress question.
Apparently I have a boyfriend now.
WHAT?!
It’s complicated.
It always is with you. Dinner tonight. You’re buying. And explaining EVERYTHING.
Ava smiled despite herself. At least some things stayed normal. Even when you were fake-dating a demon.
Derek appeared in the doorway, eyes wide. “You okay? Lilith stormed out looking ready to commit murder. Several murders. Possibly a genocide.”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You look like someone kissed you into next week.” He caught her expression. “Oh God. Someone did kiss you into next week. Victor kissed you into next week.”
“Derek…”
“You sure? Because Victor just asked me to set up building access to his apartment, and I nearly choked. Nobody gets access to Victor’s place. Nobody. I’ve worked here four months and I’ve never even seen his building.”
“Temporary arrangement.”
“Right. Temporary.” Derek’s gaze dropped to her chest, and his eyes went even wider. “Oh my God. You’re dating him. That’s the protection he meant. That’s why Lilith looked like she wanted to set the building on fire.”
“How did you…”
“Four months here. I’ve seen things.” He pointed at her collar. “Also, that mark is glowing through your shirt. Like, visibly glowing. You might want to do something about that.”
Ava looked down. He was right. Faint silver light, visible through the fabric.
“Is that normal?”
“How would I know what’s normal? You’re dating a demon. I file contracts for souls. The coffee machine growled at me this morning.” He pulled out a keycard. “Here. Victor’s building. Penthouse, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“Could be worse.” He grinned. “Welcome to the deep end, Ava. Try not to drown.”
The rest of the day passed in a haze.
She reviewed contracts, real ones this time, without the demonic clauses. Her eyes kept drifting to the mark, visible whenever she moved wrong. She’d buttoned her blouse to the neck, but the outline of it seemed to glow through the fabric anyway.
At lunch, she hid in the break room and ate a sandwich she couldn’t taste. At two, she passed Victor in the hallway. He nodded. She nodded. Neither of them stopped.
At four, Lilith walked by her desk without a word. But her eyes lingered on the spot where the mark hid beneath Ava’s collar, and her smile said everything her silence didn’t.
Fifty-six days, Ava thought. I can do this for fifty-six days.
By five-thirty, the floor had emptied. She gathered her things, pulled on her coat, and walked to the elevator without looking back. She’d survived day one. That had to count for something.
In the lobby, she pulled up a calendar on her phone and started marking X’s.
Her phone rang. Victor.
“Forget something?”
“Yes. Tomorrow night. The firm’s quarterly client dinner. Black tie.”
“Tomorrow? That’s not much notice.”
“Welcome to my world.” A pause. “Lilith will be there. We’ll need to be convincing.”
“How convincing?”
“Very.” A pause. “Can you handle that?”
She thought of his hand in her hair. The fire she hadn’t expected. The way her body had responded before her mind could catch up.
“I’ll manage,” she said.
“I know you will.” Something in his voice she couldn’t identify. “Until tomorrow, then.”
“Victor?”
“Yes?”
“That kiss. It won’t happen again without warning?”
Silence on the line.
“I’ll do my best to provide advance notice.”
“That’s not a yes.”
“No,” he agreed. “It’s not. But I’ll try.”
“I suppose that’s the best I’ll get from the devil.”
“Technically, I’m your devil now.”
“Temporary devil,” she corrected.
“Of course.” Another pause. “Temporary.”
But something in his voice suggested he wasn’t counting down the days.
The subway platform was crowded with Monday commuters, and Ava found a spot against the wall to check her messages.
Her mother had sent a photo. Feng’s Kitchen in elegant script, the restaurant’s new logo.
Finally paid off the renovation loan early! Your father negotiated such good terms. Sometimes I think we got too lucky.
Ava stared at the screen.
Too lucky.
The pendant stung against her chest. A sharp bite, like touching a winter doorknob.
She typed: That’s great, Mom. Who was the lender?
The response came immediately: Some property company. Peterson Holdings? Very professional. We barely remember signing but your father has all the paperwork.
Peterson Holdings.
She pulled up a search. Peterson Holdings LLC, Delaware corporation, registered agent in Wilmington. No website. No complaints, no lawsuits, no presence anywhere. Just a generic shell company that could be anything.
Or anyone.
But the registration date caught her eye: 2009.
The year she’d turned twelve. The year her grandmother died.
They’ve been watching our family for a long time. Before you. Before me.
Coincidence. It had to be coincidence.
She should look into it. She would look into it. Later, when she had time, when she wasn’t drowning in demon contracts and impossible deadlines.
But her phone buzzed again: Victor, with more contracts to review, more languages to teach her, more of this impossible world to navigate. And she’d just agreed to fake-date him. And move into his guest room. And convince a room full of demons she was in love with someone she’d met a week ago.
One thing at a time.
Besides, her parents had paid it off. Whatever Peterson Holdings was, it was in the past now.
Probably.
She pocketed her phone as the train arrived, ignoring the cold knot in her stomach that said she was lying to herself.
The mark pulsed warm above her heart. Steady. Insistent.
The pendant stayed cold.