vintage I had at my Fall Equinox party)
Use the same caterer as well
12 dozen white lilacs
Annie stared at the list. So she was supposed to find lilacs in the dead of winter, and make Nick fall for Finola. Oh sure, this would all be a piece of cake. Man, she was screwed.
Through her swirling, panicked thoughts, Annie vaguely heard Finola talking to Tristan.
“You stay here and work with Carrie on the layout for the ‘An Orgasm a Day Keeps the Wrinkles Away’ article.”
“Yes,” Tristan said dutifully.
“Good. Now I must go. Ralphie hates to be kept waiting.”
Annie snapped out of her overwhelmed reverie in time to see Finola saunter away, her tall, lithe body in a perfectly fitted, ivory white business suit that would arouse the jealousy of even a supermodel. She seemed completely unconcerned with the fact that she’d just made demands that were impossible.
But Annie was going to have to make them possible somehow. Part of her was desperately afraid for her own soul, but most of her still just didn’t want Nick succumbing to Finola and the dark temptations she offered. The idea depressed Annie and triggered another, sharper, more painful feeling that she didn’t want to explore.
But as usual, Annie had no choice but to do what she was asked. It wasn’t as if she could stop her boss. Nor could she tell Nick the truth. First of all, he’d just think she was crazy.
By the way, Nick, HOT! magazine is run by demons. Flee for your life.
Yeah, that would go over well.
But the truth was, even if he did believe her, what could he do to protect her or himself? Even the NYPD couldn’t stop demons. She was pretty sure of that.
So she had to do what Finola asked.
She sighed, staring down at her list of tasks, more guilt choking her. She felt helpless. Selfish.
You are just trying to survive this, she reminded herself. It was all she could do.
She turned to go to her computer, only to start when she realized that Tristan still leaned in the doorway of Finola’s office, watching her. The little white dog watched her too with small, black eyes.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said although, as usual, Annie could not read any regret on his face. His strange, vividly blue eyes just studied her, unreadable. Almost empty looking.
He pushed away from the doorframe and sauntered over to her desk, his long legs encased in a pair of designer trousers. His broad shoulders and lean torso were displayed impeccably in a vintage-style button-down shirt, untucked and with the sleeves rolled back over his forearms, making him look expensive, hip and casual all at the same time.
Tristan was beautiful. Annie remembered the first time she saw him. She’d been stunned that any man could be so pretty and masculine at the same time. But even then, three years ago, she’d been wary of him. He was hard and cold, and Annie got the feeling he could be just as dangerous as Finola, even though Tristan had never done anything to substantiate that feeling. At least not that Annie had ever witnessed.
Maybe it was because Finola’s evil was close to the surface. Even though she was unpleasant, Annie usually knew what to expect. Tristan was like trying to read a faded newspaper in a dark room. Impossible.
Annie forced a smile, trying to hide her wariness. “I just didn’t expect you to still be standing there.”
He stopped at the edge of her desk, suddenly seeming to realize he still held the cranky little mutt. He quickly lifted it out of its tote and set it down like something particularly nasty, and it trotted off to sniff around the reception area. When he straightened, he studied her for a moment, his strange sapphire gaze moving over her in the most disconcerting way.
Annie fought the urge to fidget under that intense stare.
“You need to make Finola realize she can’t tolerate being an average person.”
“Excuse me?” she asked, confused by Tristan’s comment. Confused that he was talking to
Use the same caterer as well
12 dozen white lilacs
Annie stared at the list. So she was supposed to find lilacs in the dead of winter, and make Nick fall for Finola. Oh sure, this would all be a piece of cake. Man, she was screwed.
Through her swirling, panicked thoughts, Annie vaguely heard Finola talking to Tristan.
“You stay here and work with Carrie on the layout for the ‘An Orgasm a Day Keeps the Wrinkles Away’ article.”
“Yes,” Tristan said dutifully.
“Good. Now I must go. Ralphie hates to be kept waiting.”
Annie snapped out of her overwhelmed reverie in time to see Finola saunter away, her tall, lithe body in a perfectly fitted, ivory white business suit that would arouse the jealousy of even a supermodel. She seemed completely unconcerned with the fact that she’d just made demands that were impossible.
But Annie was going to have to make them possible somehow. Part of her was desperately afraid for her own soul, but most of her still just didn’t want Nick succumbing to Finola and the dark temptations she offered. The idea depressed Annie and triggered another, sharper, more painful feeling that she didn’t want to explore.
But as usual, Annie had no choice but to do what she was asked. It wasn’t as if she could stop her boss. Nor could she tell Nick the truth. First of all, he’d just think she was crazy.
By the way, Nick, HOT! magazine is run by demons. Flee for your life.
Yeah, that would go over well.
But the truth was, even if he did believe her, what could he do to protect her or himself? Even the NYPD couldn’t stop demons. She was pretty sure of that.
So she had to do what Finola asked.
She sighed, staring down at her list of tasks, more guilt choking her. She felt helpless. Selfish.
You are just trying to survive this, she reminded herself. It was all she could do.
She turned to go to her computer, only to start when she realized that Tristan still leaned in the doorway of Finola’s office, watching her. The little white dog watched her too with small, black eyes.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said although, as usual, Annie could not read any regret on his face. His strange, vividly blue eyes just studied her, unreadable. Almost empty looking.
He pushed away from the doorframe and sauntered over to her desk, his long legs encased in a pair of designer trousers. His broad shoulders and lean torso were displayed impeccably in a vintage-style button-down shirt, untucked and with the sleeves rolled back over his forearms, making him look expensive, hip and casual all at the same time.
Tristan was beautiful. Annie remembered the first time she saw him. She’d been stunned that any man could be so pretty and masculine at the same time. But even then, three years ago, she’d been wary of him. He was hard and cold, and Annie got the feeling he could be just as dangerous as Finola, even though Tristan had never done anything to substantiate that feeling. At least not that Annie had ever witnessed.
Maybe it was because Finola’s evil was close to the surface. Even though she was unpleasant, Annie usually knew what to expect. Tristan was like trying to read a faded newspaper in a dark room. Impossible.
Annie forced a smile, trying to hide her wariness. “I just didn’t expect you to still be standing there.”
He stopped at the edge of her desk, suddenly seeming to realize he still held the cranky little mutt. He quickly lifted it out of its tote and set it down like something particularly nasty, and it trotted off to sniff around the reception area. When he straightened, he studied her for a moment, his strange sapphire gaze moving over her in the most disconcerting way.
Annie fought the urge to fidget under that intense stare.
“You need to make Finola realize she can’t tolerate being an average person.”
“Excuse me?” she asked, confused by Tristan’s comment. Confused that he was talking to
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