Devil (The Marchesi Family 3)

Devil focused on preparing the ingredients for the omelet. I watched as he cracked more eggs into the bowl, enjoying the sight of his strong hands at work. He cut up ham and shredded cheese. “I didn’t even know I owned a grater.”

Devil rolled his eyes. “How do you live like this? All there was in the fridge besides this stuff was a takeout container with food that looked too old to eat, a few condiments, and some beer. You only have ramen and peanut butter in your pantry. What the fuck? You don’t even have pasta. Anybody can make pasta with jarred sauce.”

“Yeah, I could do that. I just… don’t.”

“You don’t ever cook?”

“Not really. I make sandwiches and noodles.”

“And apparently eggs.”

“Occasionally. I’m usually rushing to get out of here in the morning, so a lot of times I don’t eat breakfast. When I get home it’s usually late. Sometimes I’m so tired or just so… I see a lot of shit that would take away most people’s appetites.”

Devil looked over his shoulder at me. “I’m hardly squeamish, but I’m sure there’s a lot of shit you see that would turn my stomach too. What do you do on those nights?”

“Nothing.”

“You just don’t eat dinner?”

I couldn’t help but smile at how horrified Devil looked. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.”

Devil shook his head. “No, you’re not. You need to eat. Even if I didn’t care about anything else, you’ve got to keep up your strength if you’re going to have enough stamina to match mine.”

“I had plenty of stamina for you just now.”

“You sure as fuck did, and I don’t want that to change.”

What was he implying? “Devil, we—”

“You know that’s not the last time we’re going to fuck.”

“It should be.”

“A lot of things should be, but that ship sailed a long time ago.”

He was right once again. It had. “You know this is fucking impossible.”

He shrugged. “I don’t believe in impossible.”

He’d never had to. He’d had money and power and anything he wanted his whole life. Or at least I’d thought he had. Now I knew his biological mother hadn’t loved him, and he’d lost the woman who’d become the mother he needed. There were things money and power couldn’t fix.

None of that excused the things he’d done. Yet here he was in my kitchen, making me an omelet, and when he looked at me, when he kissed me, when he touched me so softly and trusted me to come inside him, he made me feel more special than anyone else in my life ever had. How did I make sense of that?

“Can you put some butter in the pan?” he asked.

“Sure.” I had butter because sometimes I actually made a piece of toast to go with my morning coffee. It was melted and sizzling when he put in the eggs. I hadn’t had anyone cook for me since I was a kid. My parents had died when I was five, and I’d spent the rest of my childhood in the foster care system. I’d had some shit placements and a couple of good ones. I had some decent memories of sitting at kitchen tables doing schoolwork, watching one of my foster moms cook. None of that had lasted, though. I’d learned not to expect any of the good things in my life to last.

I didn’t expect things to last with Devil either, but unlike all the other times I was pushed away, this time I wasn’t sure I’d survive the rejection.

19

Devil

I felt Joe’s eyes on me as I cooked. He seemed to enjoy watching me as much as I enjoyed being able to do this for him. I wanted to take care of him. I wanted to protect him. But I’d never been in a position where I needed to protect someone from my own family. I hated how disloyal it made me feel. Sure I got pissed at Lucien for being fucking bossy and expecting me to do everything his way, but I would never betray him.

And I wasn’t, not really, no matter what I felt for Joe. I wouldn’t let Joe hurt any of us. It was just that instead of eliminating him or ruining his career, I wanted to see if we could find another compromise. Not just about the case but about whatever this was between us.

I’d been afraid to name the feelings I had, but now that I’d seen him again, now that I’d had him inside me and had his lips on mine, I knew for damn sure it was more than amazing sex. I wasn’t just obsessed with how filthy and delicious he was. I wanted Joe, not just his dick.

I added ham and cheese to the large omelet and flipped it closed. I gave it a little longer to cook through before sliding it onto a plate and cutting it in two.