A Deal With The Devil: A Steamy Enemies-to-Lovers Romance by Elizabeth O'Roark

Author:Elizabeth O'Roark [O'Roark , Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-08-09T16:00:00+00:00

24

Drew texts the day of the luncheon to see if I want to meet up. She’s just back from Spain, where she was visiting Six. I know from her sporadic messages he was both wonderful and terrible. That he alternated between telling her he can see a future with her and then commenting on the size of her thighs. I don’t know why she doesn’t see through him when she’s so clever about everything else.

I tell her I need to take a rain check because the luncheon is consuming every waking minute. And today, when I have to be at my sharpest, I feel like I barely have the energy to push myself into the shower. I’ve gotten by on Hayes-levels of sleep for days on end, continuing to do my job while setting up the three-ring circus Hayes wants in his backyard: catered lunch, aesthetic services, favors, open bar, valet...the list is endless. There is so much to do today, and I only want to collapse in bed, which means there’s no way this thing is going to work out as seamlessly as he’d like.

I arrive at his house with my ridiculously expensive beige dress, my toiletries, and a pair of sky-high heels in one bag, the last of the party favors in another.

Hayes is already downstairs, looking so pressed and perfect and alert that I can’t help but resent him for it.

“You look like death warmed over,” he says.

I let both bags drop to the floor. I feel like I don’t even have the energy to respond this morning.

“What?” he asks. “I’m just wondering how you can look so bad when I know you spent yet another night in, watching Jane Austen movies and dreaming about marriage.”

I lean back against the counter, scraping my hair off my face and re-gathering my ponytail. I’m going to be a disaster by eleven AM when the guests arrive. “So that’s what you think I do?”

He shrugs. “Mostly, I picture you at home vigorously masturbating.”

I pretend to gag, and today I’m not entirely faking it. I wonder if it was the deli sushi I grabbed on the way home last night. I knew I should have stuck with ramen. It might not be the healthiest food, but pre-packaged ramen never gave anyone food poisoning.

It’s cool in the house but I’m already sweating and the smell of Hayes’s coffee is making my stomach churn. I head outside into the too-bright-morning to discuss table placement with the caterer, and the heat makes my head swim. I have to brace myself against a pillar to keep from swaying as she speaks.

I get through the next two hours, but by the time the linens are down and I’ve set the place cards out, I’m wondering how I’ll survive until the end. The fumes from the chafing dishes alone have me staggering inside to get away.

Hayes is there, looking like a cool dream in a black button down and suit pants while he tinkers with the set-up for aesthetic services.

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