Page 110 of The Devil's Trials

I nod slowly, unsure what to make of this guy. He appears to be around Xander’s age, maybe a few years older, and has a hint of an accent I can’t place. He’s dressed in a navy dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and black slacks.

“Camille, this is Gio,” Xander says lightly, no trace of our previous conversation left in his tone. “He’s been a friend for many years.”

“Um, hi,” I say.

Gio’s lips curl into a grin. “Lovely to meet you. Xander speaks very highly of you.”

“He does?” I blurt as my brows lift and warmth fills my cheeks. I shouldn’t feel any sort of way over Xander talking about me, especially to his demon friend, yet I can’t stop the stupid butterflies in my stomach from flapping their wings.

Gio dips his face, making his golden blond hair fall across his forehead, and lowers his voice as if he’s sharing a secret. “The bastard doesn’t shut up about how wonderful you are. It’s really quite annoying.” He shoots me a wink before straightening and walking back to the stove.

I inhale a short breath when Xander’s hand grazes the small of my back, guiding me toward the dining table off to the side of the kitchen. He pulls out a chair, waiting for me to sit to push it in. Then he rounds the table and sits across from me, his expression unreadable as he takes the dark bottle in front of him and unscrews the cork. Finally, he meets my gaze, asking, “Wine?”

I nod, pushing my glass closer so he can pour. “Thank you,” I murmur once my glass is full. I glance toward the kitchen, where Gio continues preparing our meal, then turn my focus back to Xander as he pours his own glass. “Now that you’re well on your way to being king you’re too important to cook for yourself?”

Gio chuckles but doesn’t say anything, keeping his back to us.

Xander sets the wine bottle down, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I would much prefer to cook for myself—and for you. I quite enjoy it, as I’m sure you recall. However, as you’ve already mentioned, I have important things to do, which often means I don’t have the luxury of time to do what I enjoy.”

I press my lips together. “Hmm.”

“Besides, Gio went to one of the top culinary schools in Canada. I don’t want his talents wasted while we’re here.”

Before I can respond, Gio approaches with two dishes, setting one down in front of me and the other in front of Xander.

“You kids enjoy.” He pats Xander on the back and smiles at me.

“Thank you,” I say, staring at the most mouth-watering piece of roast, paired with steamed broccoli and garlic mashed potatoes. “This smells incredible.” My stomach grumbles in agreement as I pick up my fork.

“I wanted to make something fancier—I make a divine duck confit with broccoli rabe—but Xander requested this. Something about it being one of your favorite meals.”

“I appreciate it,” I tell him sincerely. I have no reason to take issue with Gio, especially considering he’s been nothing but kind and just prepared my meal.

He smiles and nods before retreating from the room, leaving Xander and me alone.

We eat in silence for a few minutes, and it feels weirdly…domestic. I can’t help but think about the date we had at Xander’s apartment in Seattle when he made me dinner.

“What’s on your mind?” Xander asks, taking a sip of his wine.

I shake my head to clear it. “Just trying to keep up.”

The corner of his mouth curves upward, hinting at a smile. “You don’t need to worry, Camille. Everyone in this house is loyal to me, which means you’re safe.”

I stab a broccoli floret with my fork. “How many people are here?”

“Eight now that you’re here. You’ll meet the others tomorrow, once you’ve had a chance to rest.”

“Blake’s here?” I check.

Xander nods, slicing into his roast and lifting a piece to his mouth.

I drop my fork onto my plate. “Cool. Can I have my dagger back?”

He swallows and offers a short laugh. “Blake was acting on my request.”

Arching a brow, I ask, “So you requested he clobber me in the head and knock me out to bring me here?”

His expression darkens. “Not exactly. He knows I wasn’t pleased about that part. That said, don’t blame him for bringing you here, blame me.”

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