Devilishly Sexy (23 page)
Authors: Kathy Love
Michael frowned, opening his mouth to ask what Elton meant. Sure, Finola had Liza pretty much at her beck and call, but at least when Liza was with him, she was free of the demons that had infiltrated the magazine. But before the words could leave his mouth, the elevator doors opened.
“Thank goodness,” called the blond receptionist as soon as she saw them. She came out from behind her desk, carrying a stack of Tyvek envelopes. “Ms. White wants these mailed overnight. Immediately.”
Michael stepped forward to take the packages, but Elton’s gnarled hand on his arm stopped him.
“I’ll take it down. You check on Liza.”
Michael studied the older man, still wondering what he knew.
Elton nodded, his hazy eyes wise and all-seeing. He probably knew everything. But in the old man’s eyes, Michael also saw that Elton didn’t plan to say anything to anyone about his relationship with Liza.
“Go on.”
Michael nodded and pushed his cart off the elevator, while the receptionist handed Elton the packages.
Despite his helplessness, Michael had to admit that he’d discovered he had more friends at the DIA than he’d realized, which might come in very handy should he have to take matters into his own hands.
Chapter Twenty-six
L
iza hesitated outside Finola’s office, pleased that even though all the walls were glass, her boss hadn’t yet noticed her. Nor had her toady, Tristan. They were deep in conversation. Finola waved a hand in the air, then took a sip from the champagne flute in the other. Tristan nodded, sipping from his own martini glass.
iza hesitated outside Finola’s office, pleased that even though all the walls were glass, her boss hadn’t yet noticed her. Nor had her toady, Tristan. They were deep in conversation. Finola waved a hand in the air, then took a sip from the champagne flute in the other. Tristan nodded, sipping from his own martini glass.
Maybe their early happy hour would work in her favor, Liza thought. Maybe if they had a nice little buzz, the fact that she’d been drugging the demon who had been assigned to possess her wouldn’t be such a big deal. Maybe they’d actually see she was doing them all a favor. Well, except Boris, of course.
She watched them, trying to build up her courage. Even with the wishful thinking about the alcohol, she didn’t really believe Finola or Tristan would approve of what she’d done, much less see that it was a good thing to have Boris out of Liza’s life—and body.
But she had to make her argument sound like a good one. And she couldn’t waver. After all, it was her only hope of being freed from her possession.
She took one more deep breath and raised her hand to knock. But before she could do so, Finola’s horrible little lapdog, the real four-legged one, not Tristan, began to yip.
Both Finola and Tristan turned in Liza’s direction. Liza lowered her hand to the doorknob as Finola immediately waved for her to enter.
“Were you hovering around out there?” Finola asked.
“No,” Liza assured her.
“I would hope not. I don’t like people skulking outside my office. Nor do I like to be kept waiting.”
Liza didn’t get the feeling that Finola had really been waiting. Clearly she and Tristan had been wrapped up in their own conversation, but she wasn’t going to point that out. Yes, she had been rebellious, even impertinent, the last few times she’d met with her demonic boss, but today, she had to show that she could be the perfect, compliant employee, if they would just cast Boris out of her.
“I’m sorry, but I wanted to make sure this was just right before I came to meet with you.”
With her head lowered, and her posture meek, Liza carefully placed a mock-up of the latest fashion spread for the summer issue of
HOT!
on Finola’s gleaming white desk. Then she stepped back, her hands clasped in front of her, waiting quietly.
HOT!
on Finola’s gleaming white desk. Then she stepped back, her hands clasped in front of her, waiting quietly.
Finola raised an eyebrow, then reached for the pages. She looked at each of the six photos with text.
Liza waited, praying that this was some of the best work she’d ever done. She needed Finola happy if she was going to have even a hope of getting her to see her point of view.
Finola flipped through the pages again, before finally turning her pale gaze back to Liza.
“This is”—she glanced at the layouts again—“excellent.”
Liza tried not to sag with relief. Okay, this was a good start.
“I’ve been quite impressed with your work of late,” Finola said.
Yes! Maybe, just maybe, Finola would see that Liza was a better employee without Boris. Please. Because even now, her heart was racing, galloping in her chest, partly because of her nerves, but mainly because of the allergy meds. She couldn’t keep taking them. Not much longer. And then what would she do? She’d have to give up Michael, that was for sure.
“I’m glad you have been pleased,” she said in a meek voice. She glanced up to check Finola’s expression. The demon looked almost delighted.
This could work. Liza had to believe.
Liza’s gaze shifted to Tristan. He, on the other hand, looked downright annoyed with her. Why? He couldn’t know yet that Boris was drugged and dormant inside her.
But he would now.
Here goes ...
Liza cleared her throat and said a silent prayer that her plan didn’t backfire completely.
“I—I have to be upfront,” Liza admitted, her tone still low and contrite.
Finola set down the page in her hand, all her attention on Liza. Tristan regarded her intently too.
Liza moved nervously from one foot to the other, trying to find the right way to explain and justify her current actions.
“I have to admit something, however,” she said softly.
Finola raised a pale eyebrow, waiting for Liza to continue.
“I have been drugging Bor—Bartoris so I could get my work done without his constant interruptions,” she said, managing to keep her tone apologetic.
She waited, her heart thumping so hard she was sure everyone in the room could see the pulsation through her sweater.
When she met Finola’s gaze again, she saw that the woman didn’t look particularly mad. In fact, she looked almost indifferent.
This could be a good reaction too.
But when Finola didn’t speak for several moments, Liza started to doubt the response. Maybe Finola was furious and debating what to do to Liza.
Liza’s heart skipped, and she struggled to take calming breaths.
“Well,” Finola finally said, a slight smile tugging at her ruby-red lips, “you have done this before. And I can’t say I blame you. Bartoris can be a distracting fellow.”
Liza nodded. Okay, this was good. This was a good reaction, right?
“And I believe I gave you the go-ahead to handle him, if he was indeed being a disruption. So frankly, I don’t care how you manage him as long as I get the work I want.” Finola took a sip of her champagne, emptying her glass. She immediately held the glass out to Tristan for a refill, and he didn’t miss a beat taking it from her. He walked over to the wet bar. As he passed Liza, she couldn’t miss the irritated sidelong glance he gave her.
Liza hid her frown and confusion. Why was he annoyed? Shouldn’t he be just as pleased as Finola? Or at the very least happy his usually dissatisfied boss was not making a fuss? Liza suspected that made his life easier too. She wasn’t oblivious. She knew Tristan did plenty of grunt work for Finola too.
But Liza let his reaction go, refocusing on a tiny spec of something black on Finola’s white carpeting. A thread or something. A slight blemish in Finola’s otherwise perfect world.
No matter what, Liza didn’t want to be that kind of nuisance. Finola didn’t take well to imperfections; she simply got rid of them.
That idea spurred Liza on.
“It does help me concentrate,” Liza told her. “But I think I would be so much more productive without having to worry about him at all.”
Finola regarded her, again not saying anything. Tristan returned to her side, holding out the refreshed glass of bubbly.
“I believe we’ve had a version of this conversation before,” the diva demon finally said, after polishing off half of the golden liquid in the expensive crystal wine flute. “I’m not sure why we are discussing this again.”
Liza nodded, keeping her eyes downcast, but she couldn’t help pushing her point further. “I know we have, but I thought if you saw how much work I could get done without him bothering me—and the quality of work—” She paused, her racing heart somehow still managing to feel like it was sinking in her chest.
Finola wasn’t going to cast Boris out. She didn’t care if Liza drugged him, but she wasn’t going to get the demon out of her. Boris was there to stay as long as Finola wanted him there.
But still she finished, “I thought you would realize I’m more than willing to keep working for
HOT!
without Bor—Bartoris here to guard me.”
HOT!
without Bor—Bartoris here to guard me.”
Finola smiled then, a sweet, beautiful smile that was even more sinister because it was so deceptively lovely. “I know you want to get rid of Bartoris. Really, I do understand. But though I am the one in total control of
HOT!
—”
HOT!
—”
Liza paid attention to Finola, but out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Tristan roll his eyes. Was Finola’s lackey frustrated by Finola’s dictatorship too?
“—I’m not the one who can decide to cast Bartoris out of you. That decision is up to Satan. If you want me to bring the ruler of the underworld here to chat with you, and you can convince him of what you’re suggesting, then I’d be more than happy to bring your possession to an end.”
Liza’s full attention returned to Finola. Was she really suggesting Liza talk directly to Satan himself? Okay, that she would happily skip.
“No,” Liza said, offering Finola an appreciative smile that she didn’t feel in the least. “I understand your situation. And mine.”
Finola nodded approvingly. “Good. Although I do have one more thing to discuss with you.”
Liza’s chest tightened. What could Finola want to talk about? She had thought this meeting was solely about her productivity.
“Yes?”
“Tell us about your boyfriend.”
Liza’s breath caught and she couldn’t speak for a moment. Her boyfriend. They knew about Michael. But of course they did. She’d been stupid to think they would miss anything. They were demons, after all.
But still Liza tried to play it down. She didn’t want Michael drawn into this.
“You must be talking about Michael. We are really just friends—not really boyfriend and girlfriend.”
Finola nodded, although skepticism was clear in her pale eyes. “Michael. Does Michael have a last name?”
Liza’s chest tightened further. She didn’t want Michael on Finola’s radar at all. Of course it was too late for that anyway.
“Michael Archer.”
Again, she noticed Tristan’s reaction more than Finola’s. He frowned, his eyes narrowing as if he was trying to place that name.
“He’s just a mailroom clerk,” Liza added quickly, somehow hoping that if they realized Michael was nothing but a lowly peon, they would lose interest.
Finola appeared to do just that. She nodded. “A mailroom clerk. How quaint.”
Liza bowed her head too. “Did you need anything else from me?” She just wanted to get out of there. She was disappointed by the outcome of the meeting, and even more worried about Michael. Although she wasn’t sure what to tell him about their questions.
“Just one last thing and then you can go back to work.” Finola polished off the remainder of her champagne, this time setting the empty glass on her desk. “Tristan, get the mirror.”
Tristan again jumped to attention, and Liza wondered how he could stand working so closely with this demanding bitch—even being a demon himself. Especially being a demon himself.
Did he ever wonder why Finola was the demon with all the power? That had to be frustrating too.
But as always, he did what he was told. He went behind the screen in the corner and wheeled out Finola’s full-length mirror. Liza couldn’t help thinking of the evil queen from
Snow White
.
Snow White
.
Who’s the fairest of them all?
Finola White was that literally. But mainly, she was the evilest of all, which was probably why she was the demon in control and not Tristan.
He positioned the mirror so Finola could see Liza reflected in the polished glass.
And there at her feet, curled in a fetal position, was Boris. Snoring quietly away. A sound Liza had come to hear as soothing white noise in her head.
Finola giggled then.
“I almost have to applaud you for your brilliance,” she said to Liza. “Somehow you figured out how to drug a demon. It does show ingenuity, that is for certain.”
Liza nodded, not sharing Finola’s amusement. As the demon diva giggled again, Liza noticed that Tristan did not look amused either.
In fact, he looked positively annoyed.
Chapter Twenty-seven
M
ichael knocked on Liza’s office door, but his rap was greeted by silence. She must be in her meeting with Finola, and a part of him wanted to stride right back to Finola’s glass maze and find his soul mate. Protect his soul mate. That was his job. But he knew that wasn’t a possibility. Not right now. Still, he wasn’t going to leave until he saw for himself Liza was okay.
ichael knocked on Liza’s office door, but his rap was greeted by silence. She must be in her meeting with Finola, and a part of him wanted to stride right back to Finola’s glass maze and find his soul mate. Protect his soul mate. That was his job. But he knew that wasn’t a possibility. Not right now. Still, he wasn’t going to leave until he saw for himself Liza was okay.
He glanced around to make sure no one was watching. For all he knew that pompous ass demon, Tristan, was lurking. He was clearly Finola’s eyes and ears, and Michael didn’t trust the guy, which was really an unnecessary statement since he was a demon. He didn’t trust demons or the possessed. Period. No matter what the DIA’s new policies might say.
A few employees bustled around, but they were too focused on their work to give a lowly mailroom employee even a cursory glance. So he opened Liza’s office door and slipped inside.
Her office was small with one window that looked out at the street below. She had two chairs facing her desk and her office chair on the other side. The desk itself was scattered with photos, printouts, and pages. He wandered over to see what she was working on. From the photos, it looked like a fall fashion spread. Maybe winter. In truth, Michael wasn’t much up on his fashion. Then again, he’d come from a world where bell-bottoms and platform shoes and huge lapels were the height of style.
He had to admit he definitely didn’t miss some stuff about the seventies.
He reached to pick up one of the pages, an article on how to create a romantic getaway on a budget, but when he picked it up, one of the fashion shots slipped off the desk and drifted to the floor.
He bent down to grab it, only to become distracted by a plastic shopping bag under Liza’s desk. The white bag was labeled with the name DUANE READE.
Even though he knew he shouldn’t, he ignored the fallen picture and reached under the desk to pull out the bag. It was light, but definitely had a few items inside. He suspected he already knew what was inside, but he opened the bag, making the white plastic crinkle.
Just as he thought. Inside were four boxes of allergy medication, clearly just purchased. More allergy meds.
Why? Why was she taking these? And if she was buying so many packages at once, it was definitely likely she was taking too many. Of course, he knew she was. And he knew it was affecting her health.
Again, why?
Behind him, the doorknob rattled, and without hesitation, he wadded up the plastic bag and shoved it into the back of his pants waistband. His hideous royal blue smock fell into place, covering the bulge of the bag.
He turned and waited, glad that he’d managed to hide Liza’s contraband before whoever was coming in to the office saw that he was stealing it.
As Liza had walked back to her office, she’d let her disappointment go. She’d known getting Finola to cast Boris out of her had been a long shot, and at least the diva demon wasn’t angry that she’d been keeping the annoying little demon drugged. Nor was she particularly interested in Liza’s relationship with Michael. And in truth, that was the thing that mattered most to Liza. She didn’t want Michael on Finola’s radar. No good would come from that.
Now she twisted the handle to her door, still lost in her own thoughts, only to jump when she realized someone was in her office. At first all she registered was a tall figure near her desk, his back to her. Then very quickly she realized it was Michael.
“Oh my gosh,” she said with a surprised laugh as she pressed a hand to her chest. “You startled me.”
Michael, who had turned to face her now, gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just waiting here to see how your meeting with Finola went.”
Liza’s smile slipped slightly. “It went pretty much as I expected. But overall pretty well.”
“What did she want to discuss?”
Her smile vanished, becoming a wan grimace. For a moment she didn’t speak and he thought maybe she wasn’t going to answer, but then she said, “Well, she wanted to know about you.”
“Me? Why?”
Liza shrugged and sighed. “Finola feels like she needs to be a part of all her employees’ lives. I’m sure she just wants to be sure nothing is distracting me from my work.”
He was sure that was true, but he couldn’t help wondering if the demons were suspicious of him or, worse, suspicious of the mailroom, although he hadn’t done anything to draw attention to either himself or the DIA.
Other than bonding with Liza. Could any of the demons sense that? As far as he knew, only other Brethren could sense a bonding.
Except he got the feeling Elton knew. What if the demons did too? He’d have to talk to Gabriel about this. Except he would have to reveal who he was bonded with, and that might cause problems for the DIA.
Damn.
“It really isn’t anything to worry about,” Liza said, her hand touching his shoulder reassuringly, then sliding down his back. He shifted before her fingers could make contact with the bag tucked into the back of his pants.
She frowned slightly at his sudden movement, but he quickly leaned in to kiss her as a way of distracting her.
“I just don’t like the idea of your boss controlling so much of your life,” he said once the kiss ended.
“I don’t either,” she said with another sigh. “But for the time being there isn’t much I can do to change it. And I’m just happy she isn’t trying to interfere any more.”
He nodded, knowing she couldn’t tell him anything more about her relationship with Finola. And he supposed she was right. As long as the demon diva didn’t ask any more questions, they were probably both safe.
And in truth, he was more worried about why Liza was taking these allergy meds, but that wasn’t something he was going to question her about now.
“I guess I’d better get back to work,” he said.
She gave him a disappointed little pout, but then nodded. “I’d better get to work too. We don’t want her thinking our relationship is a problem.”
No, they didn’t want that.
“But I will come up after work and maybe we can go out to dinner.”
Liza smiled, one of her true, genuine, beautiful smiles. “That would be nice.”
He smiled too, although he still wondered if Finola was more suspicious than she’d revealed. And there was the meds issue. He’d get to the bottom of that one tonight, even if Liza tried to avoid the topic.
He gave her another kiss. “See you in a bit.”
“Can’t wait.”
“Are you going to continue that pacing? It’s positively irritating.”
Tristan stopped, pausing in the middle of Finola’s office, but rather than looking contrite, he frowned. “Something about Liza’s mailroom boyfriend is bothering me. I can’t put my finger on why, but I keep feeling that something about him seems familiar.”
Finola looked completely uninterested as she debated over several pairs of shoes that he’d actually placed before her minutes ago.
“Well, if there is something we should know about the man, I’m sure it will come to you. Right now I have far more urgent matters at hand. Which of these shoes should I wear to the gala tonight? And I haven’t even contemplated an evening bag.”
Tristan fought the urge to roll his eyes at Finola’s idea of a crisis.
“I like the Jimmy Choos,” he said without really looking.
Finola remained silent for a moment, then shook her head. “Too predictable. I’m going with the Delilah Jameses. She’s fresh and I like the femininity of her style.”
So why ask, he wanted to say to her, but instead he made some comment that flattered her choice, then went back to his own thoughts.
Michael Archer. That name really did seem so familiar. But where—where did he know this man from?
“I’m not sure why you are letting this bother you so. Liza McLane seems more malleable than she ever has. I’m pleased with her work. I’m pleased that she no longer seems rebellious.” Finola paused, studying the Delilah James shoes closer, then nodded to herself. Apparently her decision was official.
“I suppose I should be upset with her treatment of Bartoris,” she finally continued. “But to be honest, I find it amusing. It makes me actually admire her. And I so rarely admire any human.”
Tristan couldn’t argue that. Finola rarely admired anyone but herself.
“So overall, I’m willing to allow things to go as they are. If Liza stops pleasing me, then I will rethink her beau and her treatment of Bartoris. Otherwise, I have bigger issues to focus on.”
She rose from her desk, going over to a clothing rack that one of Finola’s many peons had wheeled into the room. She sorted through the evening bags hanging there beside her white, crystal-encrusted evening gown.
He started to move, to pace again, but caught himself. Instead he wandered over to the wet bar and poured himself a martini.
“I can see you are still agitated,” she said, not looking away from the small drawstring bag she studied.
He added several olives to his glass, then turned to look at his mistress.
“I just have this feeling something is not right. And it goes beyond Liza’s handling of Bartoris. I’m with you on that count—as long as she’s doing her work, I can’t blame her for silencing the little demonic pest.”
She smiled, clearly still finding Liza’s trick amusing.
“But I do feel we are overlooking something big here. Something to do with that boyfriend.”
Finola nodded again, choosing a classic clutch in white silk. Then she finally turned to look at Tristan.
“Well then, my dear, feel free to watch the man further. I don’t mind as long as it doesn’t interfere with your work for me. Like getting me another glass of champagne and then helping me into my dress.”
“Of course,” Tristan agreed, gritting his teeth, wondering if this was really what Satan had intended his job to be as Finola’s right-hand man.
Liza stretched, leaning back in her desk chair, her neck and back stiff from being bent over her desk for so long. The latest layout she was working on looked darned good. It was amazing how well she could work when Boris was silent.
But as if on cue, Boris yawned, the deep groaning sigh seeming to go right along with her own stretching. If only the sound was coming from her, rather than echoing inside her.
She stopped her own stretching, and gently brought her arms down to the arms of her chair as if she could lull him back to sleep by remaining still.
Of course that didn’t work. And as usual, Boris did not wake up on the right side of the bed.
Bitch.
She smiled. “Sweet talker.”
A low growl echoed through her head and she laughed. Even though the medication was making her feel awful. Really awful at times, it was worth these moments. Moments when she knew she was in control. Even when he was awake, she was more powerful than he. And she had more allergy meds right under her desk to knock him out again.
Bitch.
“I think the days and days of unconsciousness are making you less than articulate. What’s wrong, no pithy, sarcastic comments now?”
She knew she probably shouldn’t taunt him this way. Nor should she allow him to fully gather his senses before she drugged him again, but she couldn’t help feeling a little smug.
“I should probably let you in on a little something that happened while you were asleep today.”
She paused, waiting for him to comment. But Boris actually remained silent. Even though he wasn’t saying a word, she knew he was seething. He was one angry, angry demon.
Maybe she shouldn’t be so bold, so ready to tease him. But in one regard today had been a very good day. Finola White didn’t care what she was doing to Boris, so that meant she could keep doing it.
And Boris could complain, but it wouldn’t matter.
“I’m sorry that your own kind don’t seem to care what’s happening to you, but Finola doesn’t mind that I’m drugging you. In fact she gave me props for actually figuring out a way to keep you quiet.”
She’s a bitch too.
Liza laughed. “Well, I will pass that along to her, if you like.”
He growled again. Poor Boris.
Bartoris, damn it.
She chuckled slightly, then glanced at the clock on the corner of her computer screen. It was almost five o’clock. She couldn’t risk letting Boris get any less groggy. She needed to take her Benadryl and knock him out again. In fact, she’d pushed this little moment of torment too long as it was. Michael might arrive at any moment.
She pushed back her chair and leaned down to feel around under her desk for the bag of meds she’d purchased earlier today. But the bag wasn’t where she thought she’d left it.
She leaned forward, peering underneath. The bag wasn’t in view.
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