Chapter 4
The dress Mia had loaned her was Prada, and Mia’s most prized possession.
Ava knew this because Mia had mentioned it casually while zipping her into it an hour ago. Just so you know, if anything happens to that Prada, I will end you. Best friend or not.
Now, standing in the palatial lobby of the Avalon Hotel, Ava tried very hard not to breathe too deeply.
“Stop fidgeting,” Victor murmured beside her.
He looked completely at ease in his tuxedo. Of course he did. He probably attended black-tie dinners with demon clients every Tuesday.
She smoothed the midnight-blue silk. Again.
“The dress suits you.” His hand settled at the small of her back, guiding her toward the ballroom. The touch sent warmth through the fabric. “Though we should discuss getting you appropriate attire for future events.”
“Shopping trip number one.” She kept her voice light. “Right after you teach me how not to accidentally sell my soul at a dinner party.”
“That was tomorrow’s lesson.”
She couldn’t tell if he was joking. The corner of his mouth twitched.
The ballroom doors opened onto a sea of immaculately dressed figures who moved with the kind of grace that came from centuries of practice.
“How many of them are—”
“Most.” His hand pressed firmer against her back. “Stay close. Some of our clients have interesting interpretations of social boundaries.”
A woman in emerald green glided toward them before Ava could ask what that meant.
“Victor.” The woman’s voice was honey over broken glass. “And this must be your new… acquisition.”
“Ava is my companion, Serena.” Victor’s tone stayed pleasant, but his posture stiffened. “Ava, Serena Voss handles our European accounts.”
“Companion.” Serena’s smile turned predatory. “How delightfully ambiguous.” She leaned closer to Ava, close enough that Ava could smell something sulfurous beneath her perfume. “Tell me, dear, does Victor still do that thing where he…”
“We should find our table.” Victor’s arm slid around Ava’s waist, pulling her against his side. “Lovely seeing you, Serena.”
They moved through the crowd, demons parting around Victor like fish avoiding a shark.
“That thing where you what?” Ava asked once they were out of earshot.
“Nothing relevant to our arrangement.”
“You know, for a fake relationship, you’re very committed to the guilty boyfriend act.”
“It’s not an act.” He steered her around a waiter whose tray of champagne floated an inch above his palm. “Other demons will test our claim. Showing weakness invites challenge.”
“And Serena?”
“Enjoys playing with things that don’t belong to her.”
Their table was near the front. Three other couples sat there already, looking human until you noticed the details: extra finger joints, pupils that caught the light like a cat’s, teeth filed to points.
“Mortenson merger,” Victor said quietly as they sat. “The gentleman across from you owns six blocks of downtown. The woman to his left holds the deed to approximately three thousand souls from acquiring a very exclusive cemetery.”
“Cemetery?”
“Never sign anything at a funeral.”
Before she could ask if he was serious, Lilith took the podium.
Tonight’s dress was the color of arterial blood.
“Good evening, everyone.” Her voice carried perfectly without amplification. “Before we begin, I wanted to congratulate Victor on his new… arrangement.”
Every eye in the room turned to their table.
“It’s so refreshing to see him taking an interest in domesticity.” Lilith’s smile was razor-thin.
Uncomfortable laughter rippled through the crowd. Victor’s hand found Ava’s under the table. Squeezed once in warning.
“Though I do hope this one lasts longer than poor Celeste.”
Around them, demons exchanged glances, some amused, some uncomfortable. Whoever Celeste was, everyone in this room knew. Everyone except Ava.
She turned to look at Victor. His face remained perfectly composed, but his jaw had tightened. Pain, maybe. Or anger. His thumb stroked across her knuckles, but the gesture felt different now. Protective. Like he was holding onto her.
Celeste. She filed the name away. Later. She’d ask later.
“Actually,” she heard herself say, standing despite Victor’s grip tightening, “I think that’s enough.”
The room went silent.
Lilith’s smile sharpened. “Do you? Careful, little human. You’re in very deep water.”
“Good thing I’m an excellent swimmer.” Ava raised her champagne glass. “To new arrangements.”
She sat down in the ringing silence.
Victor’s hand covered hers. He was trembling. It took her a moment to realize he was trying not to laugh.
Lilith’s face cycled through several expressions before settling on ice. “Enjoy your dinner, honored guests.”
She swept from the podium, and conversation slowly resumed. Ava caught dozens of glances their way: curious, calculating, impressed.
“That was inadvisable,” Victor said mildly.
“It was necessary.”
“She could kill you.”
“She could try.” Ava took a sip of champagne, letting the bubbles steady her. “But then she’d have to explain to the senior partners why she murdered someone under your protection. Bad for business.”
He studied her for a long moment. “You’ve been reading the employee handbook.”
“Derek gave me his annotated copy. Did you know there’s an entire subsection on justifiable homicide?”
“Section 843, paragraph 4.”
“You memorized it?”
“I wrote it.”
The waiter brought something that looked like salmon. It appeared to be pulsing. Ava focused very intently on the silverware.
“Use the outside fork,” Victor murmured. “Demon etiquette follows French service.”
“Of course it does.” She picked up the correct fork. “Because why make anything simple?”
“Simplicity is for creatures with short lifespans.”
“How romantic.”
His lips twitched. “I’ve been told I need to work on that.”
“By who? Serena?”
“By Derek, actually. He has opinions about my dating life.”
“Derek has opinions about everyone’s dating life.” She managed a bite of the salmon. It didn’t taste like it was pulsing, at least. “Did he tell you about his disaster with the barista?”
“In excruciating detail.”
Between courses, Victor explained dinner conventions: never eat food that’s actively moving, toast with the left hand, don’t compliment the chef unless prompted.
“Why not?”
“Just trust me.”
At the next table, a conversation drifted over: two demons discussing portfolios like stockbrokers at a cocktail party.
“…the Queens holdings have been particularly productive. Fifteen years of cultivation, and the returns are finally maturing…”
Ava’s attention snagged on Queens. Fifteen years. But before she could hear more, Victor’s hand found her knee under the table, and the conversation shifted to something about European markets.
Coincidence, she told herself. Queens was a big place. Lots of holdings. Lots of investments.
The pendant sat heavy against her sternum, dense as a held breath.
Other demons approached throughout the meal.
Victor introduced her as “my companion, Ava,” his thumb tracing patterns on her hand.
She deflected invasive questions with practiced smiles, using the time to catalog tells: which demons were genuinely curious, which were testing boundaries, which were reporting back to Lilith.
“You’re doing well,” Victor said during a lull.
“I haven’t stabbed anyone with a shrimp fork yet.”
“The night is young.”
She looked at him sharply. Caught the barest hint of humor in his dark eyes.
“Was that a joke? Did Victor Morningstar, demon lawyer extraordinaire, actually make a joke?”
“I have been known to wield humor on occasion.”
“When? The Renaissance?”
“The Restoration, actually. The Renaissance was exhausting.”
This time, she was the one fighting laughter. “You can’t just casually mention living through historical periods.”
“Why not? You casually humiliated one of the most powerful demons in North America.”
“Lilith? That was different.”
“How?”
“She started it.”
He smiled then. Quick and genuine. “Impressive legal argument.”
“I learned from the best.”
“You’ve known me four days.”
“Feels longer.”
His shoulders dropped, and for a second he looked younger. “It does.”
Neither spoke. Then the waiter appeared with the meat course, and Victor released her hand.
After dinner came dancing. Because of course demons waltzed.
Victor led her onto the floor with practiced ease, one hand at her waist, the other holding hers with formal precision.
“I don’t know how to waltz,” she whispered as other couples swirled around them.
“Follow my lead.” He pulled her closer. Close enough that his familiar scent surrounded her. “And try not to step on my feet.”
“No promises.”
But moving with Victor felt natural. Like her body already knew this rhythm, had been waiting for it. He guided her through the steps with subtle pressure, a shift of weight, the flex of fingers against her spine, small corrections that felt less like instruction and more like conversation.
“You’re a natural,” he said, low enough that only she could hear.
“You’re a good teacher.”
“I’ve had practice.”
“Centuries?”
“Give or take.”
She pulled back enough to see his face. “Do you ever get tired of it? The immortality thing?”
“Do you ever get tired of mortality?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.” His jaw worked, like he was biting back something he’d regret. “Eternity is all I know.”
They danced through two more songs before Lilith joined the floor, partnered with a demon whose black horns curved from his temples like a crown.
“Enjoying yourselves?” she called as they passed.
“Immensely,” Victor replied.
“Such a shame these things never last.” Lilith’s smile was sharp enough to cut. “Human lifespans are so limited.”
Ava felt Victor tense, but before he could respond, she spun them in the opposite direction.
“Don’t take the bait.”
“She’s testing boundaries.”
“Let her.” Ava met his eyes. “We know what’s real.”
His hand tightened on her waist. “Do we?”