Page 42 of The Devil She Knows
Daphne frowned. “When you put it like that, I almost feel guilty.” She paused, shrugged, then smiled. “Okay, the feeling’s gone.”
Sam pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes hard enough that colorful orbs danced behind her lids.
“As for clueing you in, keeping you in the dark was neverreally my intention. Sure, I could’ve told you and you could’ve immediately walked out the door. But in all my many, many years spent making hundreds upon hundreds of deals, not one person I’ve dealt with, even knowing all about my penchant for coloring outside the lines, has abstained from making all six of their wishes.”
“Not one? Out of hundreds?”
“Just shy of a thousand.”
Sam felt faint. “And all of them knew the risks?”
“Every last one of them.” Daphne smiled, bemused. “Come on, Sam, don’t look so surprised! I mean, look at you. You’re so desperate to get Hannah back that, even knowing what you know, you still went back for seconds. You didn’t let knowing stop you from trying your damnedest to win her back even though it meant wasting another of your six precious wishes.”
“Wasting?No, I—because I thought—because you told me that—” Sam clenched her jaw and took a deep breath in through her nose. “With the promise you made, I didn’t realize sabotage was still on the table.”
“Yes, you did. Be honest. You knew, but you thought you could outsmart me.” Daphne tutted. “And for the record, Sam? I don’thaveto sabotage you. Not when you’re doing such a bang-up job of it yourself.”
Cold spread through her chest, icy fingers curling around her heart.
Daphne was right. Sam might not be solely to blame for her wish going tits up, but she had definitely sealed her fate.
“I knew I should’ve made those dumb cake pops,” she muttered. “I should’ve listened to my gut.”
But, no, Sam just had to impress Hannah. She’d flown too close to the sun and come crashing back down to Earth, burned. No,flambéed.
“Listened to your gut and what?” Daphne shut her eyes. “Oh, Sam. Don’t tell me you were thinking about fixing the competition. Losing on purpose? Really?”
Sam crossed her arms. “Yeah. So? Maybe I was.”
Daphne dropped her face into her hands with a groan. “Sam.”
“Big whoop. It’s not like you’re some stranger to manipulation. What is it? You can excuse lying and cheating and stealing but you draw the line at—what? Unsportsmanlike conduct?”
“No.” Daphne lifted her head, just enough to glare at Sam from under her lashes. “I take issue because—and full offense meant—the idea is moronic. You’re better than that, Sam.”
“Too good to throw a competition to get Hannah but not too good to make a deal with a demon?” Sam shook her head. “My win wasn’t a win at all, was it? But if I had lost, Hannah might’ve—”
“Hannah might’ve what, Sam? Do you seriously think Hannah would have wanted to date a loser?”
“I wasn’t planning on disgracing myself … just underperforming a little.” Daphne snorted and Sam cut her eyes away. “My cake pops would’ve been perfectly passable; I just would’ve lost points on creativity. Hannah would’ve felt like she earned her win and—losing doesn’t make you a loser, you know.”
“Hmm, pretty sure by definition it does.”
In the strictest sense, sure, but that wasn’t what Sam was talking about. “I’m talking a permanent state of being, not temporary. You can lose one dumb competition, and it doesn’t make you a dud for life or a—a total write-off. I still would’ve been a successful chef; I just wouldn’t have been crowned winner.”
She would’ve been a gracious loser, too. She would’ve offered to buy Hannah a congratulatory drink to celebrate her win, and she’d have suggested a bar she knew Hannah liked, her knowing Hannah but Hannah not knowing her giving Sam a leg up, a competitive edge where it really counted. And once they were at Hannah’s favorite bar, Sam would’ve ordered a gin martini, and she would’ve asked the bartender to make it as dirty as the Hudson because that was always Hannah’s go-to line when she ordered. An intriguing coincidence, Hannah would’ve thought, or even better, fate.
Sam didn’t care what Daphne thought. She should’ve lost.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Sam.”
Sam scowled. “You’re making it sound like I was damned if I did, damned if I didn’t.”
Daphne said nothing and Sam’s ire rose.
“You know what? This conversation is pointless.” She had calledshenanigans. The wish was over. She should just put the entirely contrived scenario behind her and start thinking about her next move. “It was just a dumb cooking competition.”
“No, it’s your life.” Daphne rose to her feet and walked over to a retro-looking gold bar cart with mint-green inlaid trays set against the wall. “Do you really want to make yourself small in hopes of making someone else happy?”
