The Devil You Know (The Grumpy Devils, #3)

by Elizabeth O'Roark

“Home?” I murmur, glancing at him. “I didn’t know humans were allowed to jaunt back and forth over the River Styx like that.” His eyes raise to mine. His mouth twitches. “There’s a small toll. It’s really quite civilized.”

They think it’s a slur when they refer to me as a castrating bitch, but all it says to me is that they’ve finally realized I’m not someone to fuck with. I was someone who was fucked with a lot, once upon a time. It won’t happen again.

“Can you do this? This case could be a big deal. I need to know you’re going to bring your A game, no matter how much you hate me, or just hate men in general.”

“You bring up my dick an awful lot.” His eyes fall to my mouth, and that traitorous devil inside me likes it. “I wonder if that means something.” For a moment I’m picturing him and it—together, obviously—and I’m so winded by the idea it takes a solid two seconds for my mean mouth to make a recovery. “I have always had a soft spot for the small and the weak,” I reply.

I want the world to be a different place for the women who come after me. And the only way to make that happen is to ignore the fact that it isn’t different yet. But I’m so goddamned tired of staying silent just to get the things I deserve.

I hang up, and Ben turns to me. “So who’s the lucky sixty-nine-year-old?” I roll my eyes. “Your dad.” He smirks. “My dad is dead.” “That,” I reply, “would explain why he’s been so pleasantly quiet in bed.”

“I should have fucked you then, too,” he says, eyes flashing, “just to see how else surprise makes you yield.” My jaw falls open. A thousand responses come to mind, but instead of voicing them, I brush past him, snatching up my keys and phone as I rush to the elevator.

Because if I’m in here for even a second more, I don’t know what that devil on my shoulder will make me do next.

then kneels beside my foot and picks it up in his hand, his thumb

I flew across the country and drove over an hour, only to see you. I’m heading to my room. #312. The door is unlocked.

“Gemma, I’m doing exactly what I’ve wanted to do for two fucking years.” Holy shit.

“I want to be someone you trust enough to invite home, Gemma. And I’m willing to wait for it.”

“You’re not done,” I warn as he collapses on the pillow beside me twenty minutes later. “So don’t get any ideas about sleep.” His nose burrows into my neck, then his lips press a sweet kiss to my skin. “What’s up with you today?”

What exactly did I do wrong, aside from refusing to sleep my way into a job? Nothing, but that’s all it takes. Men will vilify you for enjoying sex, and they’ll vilify you for using it to get ahead…but they’ll punish you if you don’t enjoy it, if you don't use it to get ahead.

head. “You want to burn the whole world to ash, just to make sure every path she walks is cleared for her. I know the feeling.”