Page 36 of Sweet Venom

As I reached the last door, Azariel’s office, I paused, taking a deep breath. The playful thrill of handing out the donuts faded slightly, replaced by the cold weight of what awaits me behind this door. My stomach turns, I can already feel his eyes on me, assessing, trying to decipher my weaknesses to use it against me.Come on, Poe. You can do this. Don’t let him get to you.

After taking a few deep breaths, I pushed the door open, and there he was—the handsome Devil, leaning against his desk, as composed as ever dressed in a black suit that makes him look like a villain straight out of any popular enemies-to-lovers workplace romance.

My heart—the damntraitor— started to beat rapidly, as if trying to get out of my chest and crawl to its master.Oh, no. Don’t you dare be this weak, you fool.

“You’re early.” His raspy yet dark voice did things to my body. Things that make me feel hot all over. Ugh. I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself to not give him the satisfaction to see that he in some tiny way affects me.

His icy gaze flickered over me, and then the box of donuts.

Here we go.

“I brought something for you,” I said, holding up the box with a slightly mischievous smile. “For everyone, actually. Thought I’d spread a little Valentine’s Day cheer.”

He didn’t move at first, his gaze as unreadable as ever. He gave no reaction. None at all.

Then he broke the silence. “Valentine’s Day,” he repeated, his voice cool and disinterested. “How thoughtful.”

I could practically hear the sarcasm dripping from his words, but I’m not backing down.

“Only the best for my new boss.” I said sweetly. Too sweet yet he gave me nothing but that infuriating cold facade of his.

His gaze clashed with mine for what feels like an eternity, and then it flicked over the donuts as if dismissing me. The bright pink icing, the obnoxious red sprinkles, the heart-shaped sugar cutouts. It’s obnoxious, I know. But that’s the point.

Look, I’m not only being petty to mess with him a little, but I also did a good deed today. I treated his employees to some holiday cheer. It’s a holiday, after all, and they all seem so robotic and without a snitch of joy.

It’s a win-win, I’ll say.

Childish?Oh, yes.

But I can’t help it. It’s too perfect. Azariel hates Valentine’s Day—hates anything most normal humans would adore. Throughout the years I’ve known Azariel Solonik, I made it my mission to know everything there is to know about him. At first, it was genuine curiosity, then it turned into a low-key obsession, even when the man made me hate him. Pathetic? Perhaps. Imean, who wouldn’t be intrigued by a handsome man who looks like he’s perpetually plotting world domination and has a heart colder than a glacier in Alaska? He’s always fascinated me just as much as the stories I create.

Oh, well. We all have our obsessions, and sadly, mine is a six-foot-four, tattooed asshole with a frozen black heart.

So yeah, maybe it’s pathetic. Maybe it’s unhealthy. But after all this time, I’ve learned exactly what gets under his skin. And if there’s one thing Azariel despises more than humanity, it’s commercialized holidays. Valentine’s Day, in particular, is like a personal vendetta against him. Flowers that aren’t red roses? Gross. Romance? Barf. Pink? He’d rather burn the world down than look at it. Seriously. So, what better way to irritate him today than to walk in with something so unapologetically, disgustingly cute?

I took a step closer, my grin only growing while Azariel stared at the box like it’s a ticking time bomb, and I swear, if looks could kill, I’d already be six feet under in his mother’s rose garden. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even reach for the box. He just gave me a look that could freeze hell.

Oh, so you’re playing hard ball, cruel prince. Okay. I can do that too.

“Don’t even think about it,” I teased, waving a finger at him. “You’re going to take the donuts, and you’re going to love them. Or at least pretend you do. For my mother’s sake.”

He arched one black brow in that infuriating sexy way that makes my heart stutter without my damn consent. “Your mother? What does she have to do with this pathetic excuse of a provocation?”

My right eye started to twitch the way it always does when I’m on the verge of annoyance, but I do my best to stop it.

Instead, I grinned. “With these donuts, she sends her love.”

Okay, that’s a lie. But it’s one that will help me get this stubborn man to eat a holiday treat against his will.

“You’ve never been able to lie to save your life.”

I rolled my eyes. I’m not a very good liar. I’m only good at lying to myself, it seems. “Will it kill you to say thank you?”

He opened his mouth, no doubt ready to unleash a tirade of cold remarks, but then he paused, the briefest of something I can’t quite place. “Yes.”

My mouth twitched a little at that. “You’re acting like a brat with no manners.”

“And you’re insufferable,” he muttered under his breath.

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