Chapter 14
14
“ I told you to be yourself, not break his nose,” Devlin says, raking his fingers through his hair.
He’s pacing back and forth in his living room. After I successfully cracked Storm’s nose in two, the garden party disbanded. I tried to apologize, but Storm’s bodyguards surrounded him and escorted him off while he howled in pain.
Pretty sure that for the rest of my life I’ll be haunted with cries of, “My nose! It’s broken! Why me?”
I added in the why me. He didn’t really say that, but he might as well have.
I toss my purse onto Devlin’s couch. “For your information, I wasn’t trying to break his nose. I couldn’t concentrate because somebody was using my power on a certain redhead.”
He freezes. “What?”
I shoot him a look that says, Yep.
“Me?” He points both hands to his chest. “You’re blaming this on me?”
Who else would I blame it on? “Yes, I’m blaming this on you. You were using my power on that woman. What were you doing to her?”
“This is unbelievable.” He plows his fingers through his thick locks. “I try to help you get the man of your dreams, and you’re blaming me for hitting him in the face with a spell ball.”
“Yes, I am! If you hadn’t been abusing my power with that hot little number, none of this would have happened. What did you influence her to do? Come over later and take off her panties?”
His jaw falls. He shoots me a blistering glare before dragging his gaze away. “For your information, I was not influencing Molly to do anything with me.”
“Oh, Molly’s her name, is it? A nice wholesome name, just ripe for the ravaging.”
He drops his hands to his hips and taps his belt, obviously annoyed, and obviously trying to rein in his anger. “Why do you care?”
“Because you used my power,” I explode.
“Okay, let’s just calm down.” He points to the couch. “Why don’t you sit?”
“Because I don’t feel like it.”
“Of course not,” he mumbles. He gazes around the room, shaking his head before saying, “First of all, I’ve known Molly for years. I dated her older sister. It was a long time ago,” he adds quickly. “No time recently. And Molly was feeling insecure about a guy she likes.”
“Oh?” He points to the couch again, and this time I sit. “That seems very coincidental.”
“To whom? You?”
I scoff. “Yes, to me.”
Devlin sits beside me and leans back on the couch. “She likes one of the men who was there, and needed a little courage to talk to him. So that’s what I gave her—courage. You know, like I was telling you last night, a thing you can do with your power to make people feel good about themselves?”
He shoots me a scathing look, and I drop my gaze to my fingers, which are currently fidgeting in my lap. Devlin continues with his tongue-lashing. “You jumped to conclusions about me—about what I was doing. Gods, Blair, how horrible do you think I am?”
“Do you really want that answer?”
“No. Never mind.” He shakes his head and sighs. “Look, I would never use your power to do anything bad. I was only trying to help Molly. You can ask her yourself next time you see her.”
“No thanks.”
“So you don’t believe me?”
Do I? Why would Devlin lie? I’m here, in his house. He wouldn’t have someone over while I’m forced to stay here. Would he? No. We’re sleeping in the same room, for goodness’ sake.
So maybe he was telling the truth. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He cups a hand to his ear. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”
I exhale a loud breath and roll my eyes. “I said that I’m sorry. I believe you.”
He studies me for a moment too long and I look away. “Well? Don’t you want to know if it worked?”
“If what worked?”
“Molly and the courage.”
“I guess.”
He grins. “It worked. She texted me a little while ago and said that they’re going on a date.”
Yay, them. Meanwhile I’ve probably destroyed my chances with Storm. I can’t stand thinking about it. I need something to do. “Where are your rags?”
“Under the sink.”
I leave him in the living room but hear him following me as I enter the kitchen, find the rags, get one hot and soapy and then start wiping down surfaces.
Cleaning calms me.
And I need some calming. I’ll be lucky if Storm shows up to the next ball. Which is tonight.
Devlin talks while I wipe down his counter. “Besides, what do you care if I talk to Molly?”
“I don’t,” I snap.
“Doesn’t sound like you don’t.”
I slap the rag against a table. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t care who you flirt with.”
He growls and covers his eyes. “We just went through this. I wasn’t flirting.”
“Right. You were helping her find the man of her dreams. Just like you’re helping me.”
“Why does it bother you so much?”
“It doesn’t,” I snap, pausing to glare at him. “You were just very, very loud the whole time you were with her, and you laughed right when I was about to swing. That’s what made me look up and see your eyes, that you were using the power.”
“Not for anything bad.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“You could do the same.”
“No thanks.”
He shakes his head as I move on to the appliances. I’m not one of those people who can’t stand cleaning and who’ll let dishes pile up in a sink. No, ma’am. My life must be in tidy order.
It’s really too bad that Devlin also likes order, because there’s literally nothing for me to organize in his house.
“If you want, I can toss some magazines on the floor,” he jokes as if reading my mind.
I hate how well he knows me. Too well. It’s like no time has passed since high school.
I shoot him a look full of flaming daggers. “This will do.”
He sighs and sits in a bar chair that’s pulled up to the marble island. “The situation with Storm may still be salvageable.”
“I doubt it. I broke his nose, Devlin. His nose . He’s probably telling his security detail right now that if I ever get anywhere near him, I’m to be shot on sight.”
Devlin makes a face that says, Probably so.
“See? Even you think it.”
“However,” he says calmly (how can he be calm when my life is imploding?), “there may still be a way to fix it.”
“How’s that?”
He rises. “Leave it to me.”
“Last time I left something to you, I ended up becoming your kitchen wench.”
He smirks. It’s almost a smile, if the glimmer of mischief in his eyes is any indication. “And who do you have to blame for that? I didn’t ask you to clean.”
“It helps me feel better,” I practically whimper like a sulking six-year-old who was just told that they have to put their Blow Pop away because the gum will wind up in someone’s hair, either accidentally or accidentally-on-purpose.
“Give me five minutes and I’ll smooth things over.”
I narrow my eyes in skepticism. “What are you going to do?”
“Work magic.”
He winks, which makes him look even more brutally handsome, and then he disappears from the room. I listen as he goes upstairs.
So of course I follow him.
I tiptoe down the hall, where I hear him talking from inside his bedroom. It sounds like he’s on the phone.
He’s left a teeny-tiny crack in his door, so I press my ear to the slit while pretending to clean the glass knob. See? I’m not eavesdropping, I’m cleaning.
“I’m sorry to hear that, man. But you’re better now?” Pause. Longer pause. “Tell you what—I’ve got something that you might be interested in learning about, a way to slow aging. Yes, it’s real. No, it’s not a glamour. All you have to do is show up tonight. She’s very sorry about what happened.”
Another pause where Storm (I assume that’s who he’s talking to) explains that he never wants to see me again and that I’ve ruined things between us for all eternity. Just imagining the conversation makes my heart shrivel to the size of a walnut.
“You don’t have to do that. Just come and we’ll talk.”
My shriveled heart turns to dust as I realize exactly what Devlin’s doing. He’s willing to share an invention secret with his main competition if Storm will show up tonight.
Holy shit.
Devlin could make millions off an idea like that. Who am I kidding? Millions? More like billions. Every woman and their mother wants to look young as long as they look legal. In fact, I may be in my late twenties, but I’ve already got fine lines appearing on my forehead. What I wouldn’t give to be rid of those suckers.
“No, no,” Devlin says. Why is he saying no? What has Storm asked him? “I don’t expect you to do anything. Just come. Great. See you then.”
Conversation’s over. I sprint away from the door and make it halfway down the stairs when I hear Devlin’s rumbling voice.
“I know you were listening.”
I wipe my rag over the last bit of banister, step onto the floor, and turn to see him standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You have a lot of dust in this house. I’m finding myself very allergic. Ah-choo!”
“Good try.” He smirks, and it’s the most beautiful expression I’ve ever seen. Too bad it’s on his face. “I guess you heard that Storm’s coming to the dance.”
“No clue what you’re talking about, but that’s great! Does he hate me? Tell the truth.”
With his hand on the shiny banister, Devlin slowly slinks down the stairs, one step at a time. “The good news is that his nose is fixed.”
“Uh-oh. I don’t like where this is going. What’s the bad news?”
He pinches his thumb and forefinger together. “He may be a tad mad at you.”
“I knew it! He’s never going to forgive me, and this is all your fault.”
“My fault?” he scoffs. “I just spent time on the phone with a man that I dislike, convincing him to come to a dance for you. So that you can be with him. How is this my fault?”
“It’s your fault because if it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have broken his nose in the first place. Besides, you only called him so that you hold up your end of the bargain. If you don’t get me together with Storm, then the deal’s off.”
“Right,” he says, eyes downcast. “I’ve got to hold up my end of the bargain.”
I’m not letting his little pouty face convince me that he called Storm for any other reason—not out of the goodness of his black heart, or even just because he wanted to be nice to me.
Devlin Ross called Storm because he needs me to have a stupid vision that I wish would hurry up and come so that I can leave this house—and him.
“Since I’m only doing this to hold up my end of the bargain,” he says sarcastically, walking down the stairs and passing me, “don’t bother thanking me.”
“I won’t.”
“Great.” He throws up his hands. “Because I don’t want it.”
“Even better, because I’m not going to thank the person responsible for this entire mess anyway.” Which has me thinking. “Do you really have an invention that will stop aging? And is that what you need me to help with?”
He stops, strong back flexing as if it’s having its own conversation. Should I tell her? Why should I tell her? All she does is annoy me. Maybe I won’t tell her.
He sighs. Sighs! As if I’m the problem here. “Yes, I do have something for aging, and no, that’s not the invention I’m working on. What I’m doing is much more important than that.”
I wipe a speck of dirt from a table beside the stairs and say as if I don’t care (which I don’t), “What is it, then? What are you working on? I mean, you told my parents that you need my help.”
“I do need your help,” he says quickly, too quickly.
I steer my gaze from the table to Devlin. There’s an emotion in his eyes that I can’t quite pinpoint. It looks like…longing? Regret?
Or maybe I got a little too sunbaked outside today when I smashed Storm’s nose. Yep. I’m just imagining those feelings in him—and don’t even think that I’m projecting my own, because I am not.
“Come and see what I’m doing.”
“You sure? Aren’t you afraid that I’m going to blab about your deepest, darkest secrets to your enemy?”
“No.” He slides his hands into his pockets, watching me with eyes that skim my face, my body, making a knot inflate like a balloon in my throat. “I don’t think you’ll say anything. But if you do”—one side of his mouth tips up—“I’ll have to kill you.”
“If I do, then you can kill me away,” I reply without thinking. “Just kidding. No killing.”
“Darlin’, I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Devlin stares at me for a beat too long, and flames lick up my throat, engulfing my face. I tuck my head and march toward him.
“Lead the way to this invention. I can’t wait to see it.”
Never mind that I’d also love to run for cover. But first thing’s first.