Page 8 of Devil
“Nora is goingto be inviting everyone to dinner tonight. Just a heads-up.”Devil’s phone dinged with the text from Cyn. She picked it up and frowned.
“Why are you telling me this rather than waiting for Nora to text me? You’re bored, aren’t you?”
“Maybe?”
None of them were great about relaxing, but Cyn was the worst. The fact that she had an easy course load she was teaching this semester probably made it worse.
“Why don’t you plan a party for when Heather wins the lawsuit?”Heather was the sister of Jeremy Wheaton, a friend of Six’s from law school. He’d been working to expose a corrupt corporation when someone from the corporation had taken exception and had him killed four months earlier. Six and Gavin had been instrumental in both solving Jeremy’s murder and gathering the intel needed to bring the corporation down. Heather had willingly stepped in and was looking forward to finishing what her brother had started. In fact, the trial had started that morning.
“Not a bad idea,”Cyn wrote.
“I have them occasionally. You can tell me your plans tonight. I’ll bring the wine.”
“Deal.”
Devil smiled and dropped her phone into her pocket. An hour later, she’d finished with her emails and was powering down her computer when someone knocked on her door.
“Come in,” she called, rising. She was due at the lab in twenty minutes and wanted to grab a coffee first.
Darius opened the door and stepped through. “Dr. Devillier.”
She nodded in greeting. It had been a week since he’d last stopped by her office. She wondered what he wanted to discuss this time. “Commander Washington, I was just leaving to get some coffee from the coffee cart. How can I help you?”
He stood to the side and gestured to the door. “I’ll join you. I could use the walk and another cup.”
Not the response she’d hoped for, but again, she nodded. Once they were in the hall, she locked her office, and they started toward the stairwell. The coffee in the café was terrible, but the cart in the courtyard of the building was actually pretty good. Not as good as Six’s coffee, but good enough to get Devil through the rest of the day.
“How can I help you?” She repeated her question as they descended the stairs.
“I’ve been in this role for six weeks now. I’m checking in with the researchers to see how things are going and if there are any questions.”
She shook her head. “Thank you, I appreciate it. But no questions from me.”
Pushing through the door, she stepped out into a gorgeous fall day. Fresh air swirled around her, washing over her cheeks. She recognized the unique smell of the trees as they began their shift from lush summer life to bare winter hibernation, and the air carried scents of coffee and drying foliage.
With Darius beside her, she walked in silence to the cart, then waited in line behind three other employees. It was getting awkward when he spoke.
“Do you go to Smith House often?”
Controlling the speed at which her attention shifted from the cart to Darius, she met his gaze. Maybe he was trying to make small talk. Other than the lab, it was one thing they had in common—as much as being in the same bar one night meant they had it “in common.” But she was somewhat surprised that he’d mentioned the inn.
“I usually stay there a few times a month,” she responded. And because small talk was expected, she asked, “How did you find it?”
He smiled. “It’s around the corner from my place. I was walking by one night and overheard two people raving about the dinner they’d had. I decided to walk in and give it a try. They have a great selection of drinks.”
Devil nodded because it was true. One of the skills the hotel taught interested employees was how to be a buyer. It was a popular track in the program because the team traveled around the Eastern Seaboard looking for unique items—including alcohol—to bring to Smith House.
“I’m glad you like it. It’s a special place.”
“Did you know they have a program that gives young people a second chance after having been caught up in the justice system?”
His gaze remained steady, studying her. She didn’t need her years of training or fieldwork to figure out where his curiosity really lay. Somehow, he’d discovered that she was the owner of the hotel. And rather than ask her about it directly, he wanted to navigate her into a conversation. If history was anything to go by, the conversation would, eventually, stray away from the program and circle back to her family’s wealth. Which she wasn’t about to let happen.
“I’m going to wager that you know I did,” she responded, taking the temperature of her voice down to near freezing. She was honored to be a part of the program at Smith House, but she wasn’t going to talk about her involvement in it with someone she barely knew. Especially not when his motives were unclear.
She turned away from Darius, ignoring the flutter of disappointment in her stomach. Unfortunately, it wasn’t uncommon for people to find out who she was and how much she was worth. Sometimes they’d want her to fund one cause or another. But more often than not, they wanted to claim a billionaire as a best friend. Hangers-on and sycophants weren’t light on the ground. It was one of the reasons Devil and her friends all lived relatively quiet, and insular, lives.
She felt his eyes on her as she ordered her latte and once she had it in hand, she gave him a curt nod, then strode away. Glancing back over her shoulder, she found him watching her with his brows dipped and a small frown on his lips. A little voice inside her head suggested that maybe she’d read the situation wrong and that he really was just asking about the program. But with a shake of her head, she dislodged the thought. There were a whole host of reasons why Darius might have that look on his face, but she didn’t need to stick around to find out.
