Devilishly Wicked (3 page)

The elevator slowly bobbed to a stop, and the silver door slid open, revealing a room bustling with employees.

Georgia waited for Finola to step off, but she remained rooted to the elevator’s laminate-lined floor.

Just as the door would have shut again, a man appeared. He was the epitome of average: average height and average build with rather nondescript brown hair and features.

Well, except for one, his eyes, which were a vivid blue—so dazzlingly brilliant, Georgia thought they must be contacts or something. Although, this guy didn’t seem like the type to wear cosmetic lenses.

“Ms. Finola White?” he asked in a voice that Georgia would neither describe as particularly deep, nor particularly high.

Finola lifted her chin. “Yes.”

“I’m Eugene Saint. Mr. McIntyre told me you would be joining us today.” He extended a hand. “It’s wonderful to finally meet the woman I’ve worked for all these years.”

Georgia’s gaze turned to Finola, not sure how that comment would be received. Was it really a good idea to point out that Finola had once been in power? And now she was here?

But to her surprise, Finola actually smiled and stepped off the elevator, accepting the man’s extended hand, her long, pale fingers stroking his palm as they shook.

And to Georgia, it seemed as if Finola’s touch lingered. She was a beautiful woman in her own unique, pale way. Maybe she would find a way to fit in down here. Quite well.

“I’m pleased to be here,” Finola said, her smile appearing sincere, but Georgia knew it couldn’t be. Inside, the diva had to be writhing at the idea of being expected to work here, amongst average people like this guy. Finola was all about beauty and wealth and prestige, not an average Joe like Eugene Saint. But again, she probably had a plan on how not to work. She was using the one thing women had used as their power since the dawn of time.

Although, Georgia couldn’t tell if this man was affected by Finola’s flirty attention or not. He was inscrutably unexcited.

“Please,” the man said, waving a hand toward the mail room. “Let me show you around.”

Finola bowed her head. “Thank you.”

Georgia knew she wasn’t keeping the bewildered frown off her face, but never,
never
would she have expected Finola to be so accepting of this man or a tour of the mail room. Never mind that she had to stay here and work.

Georgia found herself following the couple, too confounded to do anything else. But after a few steps, Finola stopped and looked back at her.

“You are no longer needed.”

Georgia stopped instantly. This was the Finola she knew. The one with icy, pale eyes, who snapped orders as if she’d been born doing so.

But then Finola glanced back to Eugene, that sweet smile returning.

“Eugene seems to have everything under control down here.” She looked back at Georgia, some of that sweetness slipping again. “So please tell Tristan that I’m all settled and everything is just great.”

Georgia nodded, still dazed. Finola was going to take this graciously? Really? That made no sense. She had to be up to something. Georgia didn’t believe for a minute that Finola would simply be satisfied with manipulating the mail room staff so she could get out of doing any work. She had something bigger and badder planned. She had to.

“Okay,” Finola said, her tone just a tad harder. “Run along. We’re fine here.”

Georgia nodded again and headed back to the elevators. She stared at the couple until the metal door closed, her last glimpse that of Finola laughing, quite merrily, it appeared.

“I
t’s time for me to properly join you in this takeover.”

Tristan fought his urge to groan with annoyance. They had been discussing this for twenty minutes now. Did he have to repeat everything yet again? Dippy really was an irritating little lapdog, always yapping about what he wanted. Never giving it a rest.

Maybe the kennel wasn’t such a bad idea. Hellhound or not, he didn’t have opposable thumbs. A cage would surely be impossible for him to escape from.

But alas, Dippy was Satan’s favorite lapdog. And knowing Dippy, he’d find some way to escape and tattle. Satan believed every word the little mongrel yapped.

Which Tristan could admit had been very useful when he’d needed the mangy mutt. But now he found the dog a real pain in the ass. Sort of like one of those sweet-faced little puppies you adopted as a Christmas present for the kids, only to realize you were now stuck with an animal that wasn’t nearly so cute when the reality of the incessant barking and constant care kicked in.

Okay, the analogy wasn’t exactly accurate, but it was close enough. Especially the incessant barking. In-cess-ant.

“Dippy, I’ve told you repeatedly, we have to wait until the time is right. We don’t want Satan realizing we set this whole thing up. To have me in command, and you as my second.”

“It’s been months,” Dippy said. “I think you could easily approach Satan now. Telling him what an asset I’ve been.”

Tristan knew he could do that, but he didn’t have any intention of sharing his power with a hellhound. Ever.

“Give it another few weeks.”

Dippy growled, a low rumbling in his tiny, fur-covered chest. “I’m not waiting much longer. I can still influence Satan on my own. And by the way, I don’t recall there being any plan that you would be first in command and me second. I thought we planned to run this takeover together. Fifty/fifty.”

“I’m talking about now,” Tristan lied. “We are still running this demonic takeover together.”

But not for long. There had to be a way to show Satan his favorite hellhound was not to be trusted. But how? He wanted to be rid of both Dippy and Finola. That was his true plan. He just hadn’t figured out a permanent solution to deal with both annoyances.

But at least Finola was stuck in the mail room for now. Maybe he could send Dippy away to be groomed, and instead he could be “accidentally” put down. Could a hellhound be euthanized?

“I’m serious,” Dippy said, standing on his hind legs and digging at Tristan’s knee with his front paw. “I won’t stay like this indefinitely.”

Tristan lifted a finger to his lips and pointed toward the office door. Georgia was making her way through the glass maze back to his office.

Dippy looked over his fuzzy shoulder to see Georgia and jumped down.

“This isn’t over,” he growled before settling back on his dog bed.

So, so true, but Tristan didn’t reply, instead focusing his attention on Georgia. He waved her into his office as soon as she appeared outside the door.

Georgia entered, a strange, almost bemused expression on her face.

“Did Finola give you any trouble going to the mail room?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, and she is being shown around by the mail room manager now.”

“Excellent,” he said. Then he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “How did she seem about the new position?”

“She seemed . . . fine.”

Tristan’s smug smile faded. “She was fine? No tantrums? No rude behavior to the other employees? No idle threats?”

Georgia shook her head again, looking as surprised as he felt.

This couldn’t be right.

“Not at all,” she said. “She actually seemed . . . pleased to be there.”

It was Tristan’s turn to look baffled. Finola was simply accepting her fate? That was not like her.

He managed to focus his attention on Georgia, which normally wasn’t difficult, but her revelation had startled him. Even she knew Finola going quietly to the mail room was not right.

“Thank you,” he finally said.

She nodded. “Did you need anything else?”

This would typically be the time when he’d make some lascivious comment, then breathe in deeply her reaction to him. But right now he was too distracted.

“No, thank you,” he repeated. Then, just as she was about to leave the office, he quickly added, “Actually, could you please take Dippy with you?”

Georgia instantly smiled at the small dog. For some reason, she actually liked the little creature. Then again, the dog didn’t
talk
to her.

“Sure,” she agreed, her smile still wide and natural. Small dimples accented each side of her rosy, bow-shaped mouth, and Tristan found himself reacting to the sight.

Such kissable. Lickable. Nippable lips.

She leaned forward and patted her knee, making a kissing noise to call the dog to her, almost as if to taunt Tristan. But she didn’t know his thoughts.

Tristan admired the pale cleavage that swelled over her top. And his eyes went back to that ass. That full, round ass.

Damn, he loved her body. And her face.

“Come on, boy,” she called sweetly to Dippy.

And her voice.

“Come on, silly,” she coaxed with an indulgent laugh.

For a moment, Tristan was actually jealous again of the four-legged beast. Dippy got held against that ripe, curvy body on a regular basis. What wasn’t there to be jealous of?

As if he could read Tristan’s mind, Dippy trotted over to Georgia, coming up on his hind legs as if to say, “Hold me.”

Dippy even glanced back at Tristan. Oh, that little mutt was rubbing it in.

But instead of scooping him up, she petted his head and then straightened. The lovely smile remained on her lips, but only for the dog. “Want to come with me, sweetie?”

Dippy pranced around her like a real dog would at the suggestion of such an adventure.

She nodded toward Tristan, her smile fading, and left the office with Dippy following behind, although the dog paused long enough to look back at Tristan and lift his leg.

Tristan watched as the beast urinated on his office door.

Tristan gritted his teeth, but didn’t react otherwise. Just like Finola, Dippy wanted a reaction, and Tristan wasn’t going to give it to him. Not now anyway.

Instead, he pondered what Georgia had told him. Finola was fine with being in the mail room. That was so not the reaction he’d expected. Infuriating her was the reason he’d sent her there. Well, as well as making it difficult for the rebels, if there really were any more down there.

Finola would definitely make things hard for them. He’d thought Finola would make things hard for the whole mail room. So why was she accepting her fate so placidly?

Unless she was up to something. And of course, she
was
up to something.

Tristan fought back a groan. Of course, she was up to something. But what now? And couldn’t he enjoy banishing her, even for a day?

“That damned bitch. What are you planning now?”

Yeah, being the head demon wasn’t nearly as much fun as he’d imagined.

Just then the scent of dog urine reached him.

Not fun at all.

 

Gabriel watched from behind his sorting machine as Eugene showed Finola White,
the
Finola White, probably one of the nastiest and most unpredictable demons he’d ever encountered, around the mail room.

It was unnerving to have her in their space, right in the midst of the DIA operatives, and right above their main offices, which were another floor below them. A floor no one at
HOT!
even knew existed. And one none of the demons could enter, because the offices were encased in copper. Demons could not cross over copper. But still, having the enemy so close was unsettling, and always dangerous.

He continued to watch as Eugene led her to a sorting station and waved over Dave, who posed as Eugene’s mail room assistant, but who was in fact Eugene’s right-hand man in the agency.

The three talked for a moment, and Gabriel noticed Finola was all smiles. As Dave talked to her, probably about sorting mail, she flipped her hair and leaned her head close to Dave’s, seeming to listen intently.

Gabriel didn’t buy for a moment that she was really interested in learning the proper way to sort and stack mail. Nor did he believe she’d ever do the work. So what was she up to?

Eugene said a few more words to Finola, then left her alone with Dave, and headed back to his office. Gabriel waited a moment, and then followed his supervisor.

“Come in,” Eugene said as soon as Gabriel knocked.

Gabriel stepped into Eugene’s small office. The man already sat at his desk, waiting for his computer to boot up.

“Is everything okay with her?”

Neither of them had to clarify who “her” was.

“She seemed to be quite content to be down here,” Eugene said, his expression, as usual, unreadable.

“And you aren’t suspicious of that?”

Eugene looked away from his computer to meet Gabriel’s gaze. “I didn’t say that. We all know we are going to have to watch her closely.”

Gabriel nodded, relieved to hear that Eugene hadn’t somehow fallen prey to Finola White’s charms and pale beauty. Or to her demon guile. She was a predator on every level.

Gabriel started to ask if he could just handle her. After all, he’d been slaying demons a century before the DIA even came into existence, but he also knew the DIA no longer approved of the killing of demons. Now, it was generally accepted that demons could be reformed. Not that he’d ever met a reformed demon himself.

But either way, he knew Eugene would never approve the request.

“The DIA will handle Finola,” Eugene said. “In truth, I was more interested in meeting Georgia Sullivan. She is the one who we are going to recruit to work with us, right?”

“Yes.”

Eugene studied him for a moment, and then turned his attention back to his computer screen.

Gabriel waited, knowing from past experience that Eugene probably wasn’t done talking. Plus, Gabriel wanted to know more about his boss’s thoughts. One would think the head of the DIA would be very, very concerned about the presence of a powerful demon in their midst, but he was more interested in Georgia Sullivan. Why?

“I think she will be good for the task,” Eugene said, in his eerie way of seemingly answering an unspoken question. Although, Gabriel should be used to that by now. “I get a positive feeling from her. And I think she will be extremely useful in getting to Tristan McIntyre.”

“Good,” Gabriel said. “Although, I will admit, I’m not as sure myself.”

“She’s perfect. She’s exactly right to appeal to Tristan McIntyre.”

“Really?” Gabriel still had his doubts about that one. True, Tristan was a demon of lust and all women would likely appeal to the demon in some way or another. But in this world of high fashion, where the demon was surrounded by gorgeous women on a daily basis, how would a quirky, quite frankly chunky, woman like Georgia Sullivan stand out?

“She’s different,” Eugene said, again answering Gabriel’s unspoken question.

“He will be drawn to her individuality. And I believe we can trust her. She has a good soul.”

Gabriel nodded, not sure how Eugene could tell all that from one brief meeting, in which he hadn’t even seen his boss actually speak to the woman, but he hoped Eugene was right.

“Well, little Dippy,” Georgia said, unhooking the dog from its leash and hanging the leash back on the coat rack beside her desk, “it was still nice to go for a little walk, even if you didn’t need to go potty.”

The dog wagged its small, nubby tail and seemed to smile. She smiled, too.

Then she took a shawl off the coat rack hook. She left it here at work, just in case she got cold while at her desk, but right now she dropped it on the ground beside her chair.

Dippy stood a few feet away, regarding her.

“Come on,” she said, pointing to her shawl. “Lie down.”

The dog wandered closer, looking from the shawl to her.

“It’s okay,” she cooed to the animal. “It’s just an old shawl. You can sleep on it. It’s not like it can’t be washed.”

The dog hesitated a moment longer, then settled on the cloth, tugging at it with his teeth and paws to get it arranged just so.

Georgia smiled, watching the animal get comfortable.

“You are such a cute little thing.”

“Why, thank you.”

Georgia started at the unexpected voice. She looked up to find Tristan approaching her desk. She hadn’t expected to see him again so soon. She hadn’t gotten to anything on the list he’d given her. She hoped that didn’t upset him. She could already tell he hadn’t been pleased about her description of Finola’s reaction to the mail room.