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Chapter 11

Everett

I text Ricky:

Status?

Which is assistant-code for how’s the shopping outing going with Ariel?

My phone buzzes while I’m pretending to be fascinated by a CAD sketch of a new design for a bottom scraper.

Ricky: Staring at blenders.

What could possibly be fascinating about a blender?

I grin at my screen like a teenager. A replay of yesterday and the night before last flickers through my mind—Ariel chanting my name like it was made of stars as she came undone beneath me, as she rode me into fucking oblivion. I adjust my throbbing cock under my desk and think about spreadsheets.

Me: If you’re done by one, come back. I need your Excel wizardry.

I bury myself in the scraper redesign, widening the throat, softening the edge, baffling to keep silt down. The office hums with the subtle whir of the air vents, far-off phones, and the faint ping of the elevator—a white noise ocean. An hour slips by. Then two. When Ricky’s laugh floats down the hall three hours later, the knot between my shoulders loosens like a hand unclenching.

They round the doorway: Ricky, talking with his hands; Ariel, shining with that new-world wonder that makes me feel protective and wildly, stupidly lucky. My pulse kicks, and the air in my office changes, becoming brighter and warmer with her presence.

Kara steps in behind them, a cool breeze of competence. “Have a nice day out, Ariel?”

“Oh, yes,” Ariel says, eyes bright. “Ricky took me to a mall. There are so many things you can buy!”

“Why have you never seen a mall?” Kara asks the question sitting on my tongue.

Ariel lifts a shoulder, choosing every word like a stepping-stone. “Where I’m from, we don’t really have stores. A villager might make clothes or jewelry or… whatever we need. If we wanted a store, we’d leave town—but we didn’t, not often. I just… became curious about the rest of the world and left. The world seems so much bigger up here.”

Up here. A tiny compass needle swings in my chest. South? Mountains? A commune with no Wi-Fi? My curiosity gnaws, but the part of me that matters says: It doesn’t matter. She’s here.

Because I’m… happy since she arrived. Lucifer allegedly haunts Screaming Woods, according to the town gossip, and a woman called Wendy lives in a shoe deep in Fable Forest with dozens of kids, so if Ariel told me she’d moved here from Hell, I’d probably ask if she needed a sweater.

“You ready for the family party?” Kara asks, breezing to my desk. “Ariel’s wearing a rather pretty blue dress I think you’ll like. A lot.”

Her eyes sparkle. Translation: I approve. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted that until right now.

“Yeah,” I say, standing, “but, Kara, I want to tell our families the marriage idea is a pipe dream tonight. You deserve a bigger role, but you don’t have to marry me for it.”

Kara tips her head, something like pride flickering in her eyes. “Good,” she says softly. “About time.” Then, she’s all briskness again. “All right. I’m stealing Ariel. Hair, makeup, moral support. Ricky’ll bring her back before we head to your parents’. Try not to stress-plan a hostile takeover while we’re gone.”

Ariel glances at me over her shoulder as Kara shepherds her out of my office. That look hits like a fingertip dragged slow down my spine—open, a little shy, and full of a promise I feel in my bloodstream.

“I’ll see you tonight,” she says.

“Yeah,” I manage, which is not what I mean. What I mean is I’m going to fuck you senseless tonight because I can’t breathe right without you in the room anymore.

Then they’re gone. Ariel is swept into Kara’s orbit, with Ricky trailing, already talking about toner versus serum. My office suddenly feels too quiet.

The rest of the afternoon drags and snaps at the same time. I plow through emails I don’t remember sending. I sign off on a procurement request I probably should’ve read twice. I stare at the CAD model of the scraper and see only the curve of Ariel’s mouth.

By the time early evening settles against the windows, most of the floor has cleared out. I head home, shower, and pull on my suit. My phone pings.

Kara: On our way.

I straighten my jacket. I sit. I stand. I debate loosening my collar, then tighten it instead. My pulse is a low, insistent drum in my throat, and I’m suddenly, viscerally aware that tonight I’m walking Ariel into the viper pit that is my family.