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Everyone makes mistakes. Bad choices. Wrong turns. Usually it's something simple, like putting the wrong date on a check, forgetting someone's name or being late to work. Typically they don't get drunk and sell their soul to the devil. Especially not for something ridiculous like revenge against a cheating ex and a backstabbing best friend.
That was me. The idiot who sold their soul for revenge. It wasn't even a good revenge. Jason, my ex, got a nasty rash in a really bad place. Carrie, the friend he was cheating with, found herself fired when she sent an inappropriate picture to her boss. I could have wished for fame, fortune, true love. But, no. The opportunity had to be presented after the Captain and I had become close buddies.
Seven years later, I still tried to forget that the night ever happened. At 25 I was a struggling writer, editing part time for the newspaper and avoiding my own novel like the plague. I was still single, though in my opinion, I just didn't have time for dating or even meeting people. I kept to myself and focused on work. Nothing wrong with that? Right?
On the Monday that my life changed, I was sitting at my desk in the newspaper office and wishing something exciting would happen in my small town. I mean, editing stories about the local women's club bake-off and the biggest catch of the elderly fisherman down the road was not the front page stuff I was hoping to edit, maybe even write about. So as I sat there, spinning in my office chair, I was completely unaware that excitement was about to walk through the door.
The bell over the door rang, and I shouted, "Jerry! It's about time you got here. Malcolm is going to have your head if you're late again!"
When the answer came, I startled and nearly fell out of my chair.
"Hello, Harlow." His voice was low and silky, promising naughty things.
It wasn't Jerry. I looked over and felt a jolt of familiarity. He was dressed impeccably in a dark charcoal suit that was cut so perfectly to his frame that I could tell it had cost more than my rent. He had dark blue eyes that seemed to see straight through me. His hair was just long enough for the rich, black curls to brush his shoulders. Devastatingly handsome didn't begin to describe him. And yet, my stomach turned as I looked at him.
"No." My voice sounded faint. "I have three more years."
I had to shake my head, hard, to clear the memories of the first time I met him. Drunk on rum, standing just off the path of the forest near my childhood home, begging for the chance at revenge.
Ten years. That's all the life I was given in exchange for two petty acts of revenge. I was jerked back to the present when Lucifer spoke again.
"I'm not here to take you, Harlow." His voice caressed my name like a lover. "I'm here to offer you a deal."
All of the moisture in my mouth dried up. I could barely speak around my heart in my throat.
"No, thanks. I know all about your 'deals'." I had to force my voice to be firm. "They're never worth it."
Lucifer smiled a small, secretive smile and stepped right up to the front of my desk.
"This one is." He leaned down, putting his beautiful face inches from my own. "I need a favor."
I shook my head and leaned as far away from him as my chair would allow. It took every ounce of willpower to tear my eyes away from his and stare over his shoulder at the tinted, plate glass window at the front of the newspaper office. I swallowed my fear.
"There's nothing you could do for me that would make me want to help you." I said quietly.
I truly thought that there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that he could offer me to change my mind. I stared determinedly out the window, watching everyday life continue on outside like nothing had changed. It seemed wrong. My whole life was sitting in this man's hands and life was just carrying on for everyone else. He cleared his throat, jerking my thoughts back to him. I was steadfast in my belief that I would never do any sort of favor for him. I was wrong.
"I'll return your soul." My eyes moved back to his without thought on my part. His expression morphed, a knowing smirk gracing his mouth. I couldn't turn that down, and he knew it.
