The devil's advocate

“I’m leveling the playing field.” With a huff, he takes it out and slips it on my left ring finger. “As of this moment, you’re officially my fiancée.” There’s a mocking glint in his eyes as the corner of his mouth curves up. “You’re welcome.”

I feel like someone just poured a bucket of ice water down the front of my dress. “I’m not marrying you.”

“You’ll do whatever the fuck I tell you to do.” His teeth flash white. “Your fifteen minutes are up, Mrs. King.”  

“I don’t recall Satan ever having a wife,” I mutter under my breath as he takes hold of my arm.

And if the Devil was even half as cold-hearted and mean spirited as Damien King is...it was for the best.

“That’s because he tossed her off the balcony and cut his losses when he had the chance. Now start walking before I drag you in there.”

I hate him.

I hate them both.

My legs shake as we make our way past the lobby and into a much bigger room holding at least half the town. Due to the large line forming at the front, the people entering are all packed like sardines in the back of the room—which is fine by me.

I look down at my shoes. If I keep my head down the entire time maybe it won’t be half as bad as I imagined.

“Stop staring at the floor,” Damien hisses in my ear. “Hold your head high and make every last one of these motherfuckers eat shit.”

That’s easy for him to say, he walks into a room commanding respect and people hand it right over.

People like me aren’t as fortunate. No one respects the home-wrecking town whore.

Even when she’s not…because perception is everything.

“I’m just trying to get through this the best I can,” I whisper to my unassuming black heels, my voice cracking.  

“Look at me.”

Lifting my head, I meet his eyes. His expression is full of disdain, but for once, it’s not directed at me.

“There’s not a person here who would dare to disrespect you. Not in my presence.” Those blue orbs are like laser beams zeroing in on potential targets as he looks around the room. “And if by chance someone is stupid enough to test that theory, I’ll shove my cock down their throat and make them choke on it.”

The tiny hairs on my arms rise. Damien is out of his mind, but there’s something strangely appealing about his no fucks given attitude.  

He lets go of my arm and snatches my hand as a large group of people shuffle past us. Now that it’s not so claustrophobic and I’m no longer staring at my shoes, I can see the casket in the front of the room.

“Don’t funerals usually take place at a graveyard?”

My heart lurches as my thoughts flicker to my mom’s. I could only stomach the first few minutes before I had to leave. Fortunately, Cain was prepared and had a driver on standby, ready to take me back home.

“Funeral, memorial. Same shit.” Damien lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “They’re roasting him after we leave if that’s what you’re wondering.”

The people standing next to us bristle.  

I open my mouth to speak, but the couple paying their respects to the dearly departed turn around and the entire room sways.

I watch in agony as Cain drapes his arm around Margaret, gently leading her away. They look so comfortable together—it’s almost as if they’ve been an item for years.

Tears well in my eyes when I notice the black silk tie he’s wearing. The one I got him for his last birthday. He looks as handsome and distinguished as ever.

Without a care in the world.

“I’m leaving.” I don’t care if Damien tries to punish me or how angry he gets. The organ in my chest can’t take the sight of him with her.

“Like hell you are,” he seethes in my ear.

“It’s too hard.”

I try to untangle my hand from his, but Damien clutches it tighter. “Look, Eden, there are two types of people in this world. Those who are capable of greatness, but don’t bother trying. And those who still try even though they’re not capable of greatness. Which one are you?”

His words root me to the spot. Not because they’re inspiring…but because I’ve heard them before.

“I…wh—” My voice stalls as Cain and Margaret start walking toward the back of the room.

The look on Cain’s face when he spots us is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. And when those irate brown eyes land on me, I can’t help but notice a hint of something simmering beneath the surface.

Something I never expected to see, given the circumstances …betrayal.

Damien smirks as his glare locks with Cain’s. “It’s showtime.”