Devilishly Wicked by Kathy Love Page A

exited the small office that a rare smile curved Eugene’s lips, just slightly.

Chapter Ten
    “I told her to take her time, but this is ridiculous.” Tristan checked his TAG Heuer watch for the fifth time in so many minutes.
    Dippy lifted his head from the edge of his doggy bed. “Obsessed. Truly obsessed.”
    Tristan didn’t bother to respond since the damned dog had already said that several times over the course of the last hour. He looked at his watch again.
    “You need to stop this,” the mutt stated. “I told you that Finola is up to something down there in the mail room. That should have you far more concerned than a late assistant.”
    Tristan glanced out of his glass-walled office into the catacomb of glass hallways. No sign of Georgia.
    He sighed, turning back to Dippy. As much as he hated to admit it, the dog was right. Finola’s actions were much more worrisome than his curvy, sexy as hell assistant’s tardiness.
    “What do you think she’s up to?”
    Dippy sighed, a sign of annoyance that translated perfectly even in his dog form. “We are talking about Finola, right? Because frankly, I don’t care what your personal assistant is doing.”
    “Yes.” Tristan’s irritation grew. “Finola.”
    “I already told you, I think she’s working on gathering souls. She’s reading the people who work down there, figuring out what they desire most. What would convince them to sell their souls.”
    Finola could be very good at that. She might be flighty and self-obsessed, but she was damned good at gathering souls when she put herself to the task.
    “That hardly sounds like a problem,” Tristan said, giving the animal a wry look. “We are here to gather souls, after all. She’s just finally doing the work she should have done all along as the leader of this rebellion.”
    Dippy gave him a look that stated quite eloquently he thought Tristan was utterly dense. “If Finola’s busy collecting souls, and you are just chasing after your assistant, don’t you think Satan will reconsider his decision to appoint a demon of lust as the head of this rebellion?”
    Like a demon of greed had been a much better choice. Finola’s greed had never motivated her to focus on the task Satan wanted her to perform. Until now.
    “I’m growing tired of talking about my assistant,” Tristan stated.
    “You could have fooled me,” Dippy growled.
    “You know what I mean,” Tristan stated. “Georgia isn’t an issue. And after tonight, she’ll be less than an issue. She’ll be a non-issue, if you will.”
    Dippy looked dubious.
    “You were the one who suggested that I manage my little focus problem by getting rid of my perpetual hard-on for the woman. So tonight, I plan to seduce her and spend the entire night making sure my hard-on is well sated.”
    “I believe I suggested using your hand, not Peaches’ hoo-ha.”
    Tristan grinned, just imagining Peaches’ hoo-ha. All plump and pink and glistening with her juices. Then his juices.
    He looked at his watch again.
    Dippy growled. “Seriously, pumping her hoo-ha is not going to get you refocused.”
    Tristan grinned wider. “Who said I was going to pump just her hoo-ha?”
    Dippy rolled his eyes, and muttered something about demons of lust being ruled by, well, lust as he got up, turned several tight circles, then flung himself back down onto his dog bed, facing away from Tristan.
    For Tristan, the hound’s action was more of a relief than a snub. He was so sick of that mutt’s judging stares and dismayed puppy sighs. But Tristan still needed a break from both Dippy and Finola. Surely, Satan wouldn’t expect him to work with all these backseat demons evaluating his every move, every decision.
    Time to find Georgia. Maybe she was at her desk and had just gotten to work without checking in with him. He left his office without another word to the demon dog.
    Dippy might think demons of lust did nothing but fixate on satisfying their libidos, but Tristan knew