Fashionably Fooled (Hot Damned #13) - Robyn Peterman
Chapter One
“I have an outstanding plan,” I announced, leaning back in my leather chair and propping my feet up on the massive desk.
“Says the nutjob who thought blackmailing me into writing his profanely disgusting and over-sexed autobiography was a good idea,” Astrid muttered as she casually examined her manicure.
“Surely you jest,” I said flatly. I raised my brow and gave the Vampyre/Demon a look that would make most drop to their knees in terror and beg forgiveness. However, this particular Vampyre/Demon simply grinned. “My book was a New York Times Bestseller and the film version won an Oscar.”
Astrid threw her head back and laughed so hard, I smiled in spite of myself. If I were being honest—which was rare—I’d fully admit I’d bought my way onto the bestsellers’ list and had bribed each and every Oscar voter. However, just as a tiger was unlikely to change his stripes, the arbiter of evil had no desire to become an honest man. I adored evil and I wore it well. But most of all, I knew how to have an outstanding time doing outrageously bad things. It didn’t hurt that I was a devastatingly handsome son of a bitch.
Being the Devil did not suck.
“Are you done?” I asked as she continued to laugh like a loon.
“Almost,” Astrid replied, still giggling.
As much as Astrid made me want to incinerate buildings, it was refreshing to spend time with someone who wasn’t terrified of me. Of course, my niece’s blatant disrespect could be trying, but then again, a price had to be paid for everything.
“I’m done,” she said, swallowing back a few leftover giggles.
“You’re sure?” I inquired.
“No, but keep talking. If I need to laugh again, I’ll raise my middle finger and aim it at you. Cool?” she shot back, grinning.
“No, not cool,” I replied.
“Oh, my Hell,” Astrid griped. “You’re such an asshat. You called me to your neck of the Universe. Spit out what you want. I have a movie date with my son and husband in an hour.”
My niece was correct, not about the ridiculous name she called me, but about summoning her to Hell. I wanted Astrid to do something, and I wouldn't take no for an answer. Hence, the meeting in my intimidatingly fabulous office. However, as usual, she wasn’t appropriately cowed. So be it. I would win. I always did.
“Fine. Here’s what I’m thinking… since you owe me, I shall let you throw me a grand surprise birthday party. I want something on the scale of Christmas but bigger—national attention, complete worship of me,” I said as I heard a strange hiss and scanned my office warily.
My incredibly rude niece sat on the black leather couch and rolled her eyes so hard she should have been able to see her backside. Normally that kind of behavior would merit a vicious comeback or a threat. Often times it delighted me to light something or someone on fire when I didn’t feel I was getting the respect I was due. As a half-Vampyre/half-Demon, Astrid would survive electrocution. This morning I was off my game. Plus, my niece was a wild one. If I zapped her, she’d zap me right back. While I enjoyed her lack of fear, I enjoyed my custom Armani suit more.
Not to mention, almost getting decapitated before I’d summoned my niece had made me unusually cautious… the Devil wasn’t necessarily known for self-restraint, but there was a first time for everything.
Even so, she clearly hadn't heard what I heard.
“When you think, I get gas,” Astrid said, noticing the buffet table and eyeing it with ire.
“You’re dead. That’s impossible,” I reminded her. “Bodily functions are a thing of your past.”
“And you’re a gaping hole of rude,” she snapped, pointing a perfectly manicured nail at the onyx marble table laden with silver platters of breakfast delicacies. “You know I can’t eat. You know that makes me stabby. Yet, for some unexplainable reason, you call me to Hell and make me look at food. Total jackhole move, Uncle Fucker.”
“Shit,” I muttered, as the Dark Palace began to tremble on its foundation. I quickly grabbed the mesh desk organizer with a sliding drawer, double tray, and five upright sections that I’d stolen from my mother. Surprisingly, Mother Nature had a delightfully large array of office supplies. I’d be pissed if it shattered. I’d only absconded with it last month and hadn’t enjoyed it properly, yet.
“What in the mother humpin’ Hell?” Astrid yelled as the couch she was seated on slid across the room and