ADIRA

When I told my parents I was coming back home, they were ecstatic, especially my mother. Not surprising, considering they never wanted me gone in the first place. Penny on the other hand? Yeah, not so much.

“What do you mean you’re going back to America?” she screamed through the speakers, her voice loud enough to make me wince. God, my ears. “You’ve been here barely a week, and now you’re going back?!”

“I can hear you clearly Pen. You don’t have to burst my eardrums.” I said, rubbing my temples.

“Don’t lecture me about volume, missy! We were supposed to go to the beach and other cool places together! Why do you have to leave me?” she whined, dragging out the last word like a petulant toddler. When did she become like this? Oh wait, she’s always been this way.

“You know,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm, “you could always come to the U.S., right? You’d even get to see Andronikos in the flesh rather than all those half-assed pictures I’ve been sending you.” Yes, I’d been taking sneaky pictures of the demon and sending them to Pen. No, I didn’t spend a questionable amount of time scrolling through said pictures at irregular intervals.

“Oh. Okay,” she said, like she’d just discovered birds could fly. “Well, I’ll catch you later. And tell that hunk of deliciousness I said hi, okay? Don’t let anything happen to him.”

I could practically hear her biting her lip through the phone. In fact, I’d bet my next supply of Flamin’ Hot Lays she was biting her lip right now.

“You’re biting your lip, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not.” she replied defensively.

Liar.

“Whatever,” I said, an amused smirk playing on my lips. “I’ve got to go before that dragon starts breathing down my neck.”

Pen’s voice still dripped with faux betrayal until I ended the call. The girl was really hurt about my impromptu departure. So am I, I thought sadly. I quickly grabbed my bags and saw the vehicle waiting to take me to the hangar, already idling outside. I heaved a heavy sigh as the guards hauled my stuff into the trunk.

The ride to the hangar was pretty uneventful—just me, my suitcases, and the low hum of the car’s engine. I spent most of it staring out the window, letting my mind wander, though it inevitably circled back to the same thought: Andronikos. I really needed to stop thinking about him.

The sun had begun to set by the time we’d arrived, casting a soft orange glow on everything, including the massive jet that sat there like it owned the entire hangar, and knowing Andronikos, it probably did. Sprawling, imposing and obnoxiously sleek in its gloss black finish, it looked like a billionaire’s Batmobile with wings.

But the jet wasn’t just black. Oh no, that’d be too simple for that demon. The engines gleamed with gold accents, like they were dipped in liquid wealth. Erebus, the jet’s name, was written in deep royal blue script across the side, the letters so elegant, they practically curtsied as I read them. The stairs were already unfolded, lined with what looked suspiciously like velvet carpeting. Because of course, even the stairs had to be extra.

As I approached, I tried to tamp down my annoyance. The sight of the jet managed to irk me. Not because it was over-the-top—it absolutely was—but because it was… fine. Stunning, actually. And I’ll never admit that to him. His head is already big enough as it is. It doesn’t need more inflating.

I climbed the steps and stepped inside, the flight attendants struggling with my luggage outside. The interior was infinitely better than the exterior. Black leather seats with gold stitching, a bar with a black marble countertop that shimmered with veins of royal blue, and even the curtains—yes, curtains— looked like they belonged in a palace.

I dropped into one of the plush seats, sinking into the kind of comfort that made you hate yourself for liking it. “Ugh,” I muttered under my breath. “Why does it have to be nice?”

“Seems you’ve started talking to yourself,” came a deep voice from behind me.

I didn’t even need to turn around. I knew it was that demon from the way his voice sent shivers through my entire body. “Andronikos,” I said flatly, rolling my eyes for what felt like the hundredth time today.

He sauntered in, looking as smug as ever in his tailored black suit. “Adira, always a pleasure to see your beautiful face” Beautiful?! “Though I must say, your tone could use a little more enthusiasm. Perhaps a thank-you for the jet?” he continued, gesturing around him like I haven’t already noticed the opulence I’m sitting in. My daddy’s own is better anyways, I thought petulantly.

I snorted. “Thank you for reminding how insufferable you are. It’s been what, six hours?”

He smirked, settling into the seat across from me. “Six and half, but who’s counting?”

Just as I was about to score a verbal win, his phone buzzed. His expression shifted as he glanced at it.

“Duty calls,” he said, holding up the phone. “Try not to miss me too much.”

“I’ll try, darling,” I deadpanned as he walked toward the back of the jet, to the room I suppose, to take his call.

Finally, some peace. Deciding to be productive during the duration of this flight, I pulled out my laptop. Jump fucking scare. The inbox that greeted me was a war zone of unread emails, urgent requests, and flagged follow-ups. My stomach was in knots after what I just saw.

“Nope,” I said, slamming the laptop shut. “Not today, Satan.”

Rubbing my temples, I reclined my seat, a headache already setting in. The only cure I could think of was a nap and my anxiety meds which I conveniently forgot to take. Popping a few pills into my mouth, I closed my eyes, letting out a sigh and a barely audible mutter, “I’ll deal with it tomorrow. Or never. Never sounds good.”

The thrum of the engines and the plush embrace of the seat lulled me toward sleep. My last thought before drifting off? Stupid jet. Stupid Andronikos. Stupid, annoyingly perfect jet.

******************************************

I was jolted awake by the obnoxious whirring of a coffee machine. A coffee machine? What the actual—

Squinting, I forced my eyes open and immediately regretted it. Right there, stood the bane of my very existence, casually operating the offending appliance on the side table beside me like there was no other place to do it. His stupid face practically screamed, “Aren’t I a genius?”

I cleared my throat to get his attention. Nothing. “Is this man kidding me?” I muttered, glaring at him through bleary eyes. The audacity of this man to act like I wasn’t right there, simmering with rage!

As if sensing my glare, he finally raised his head and turned toward me. His annoyingly perfect—no, not perfect, focus, Adira—his completely ordinary eyes locked onto mine.

“Oh, you’re awake! Finally!” he exclaimed, flashing a grin and shutting off the blasted machine. “You know, I was starting to think you were in a coma. Three hours is a long time to sleep.”

Three hours? THREE? Was this man delusional?

“So, you thought it was a great idea to wake me from my precious slumber with… this?” My voice was deadly calm, though I could feel my eye begin to twitch.

“No, I just thought it could be a great alarm clock. Don’t you agree?” he replied, smirking like some smug villain in a low-budget rom-com. “And besides,” he continued “There’s work to be done. Remember?”

Ignoring his nonsense, I got up, grabbed the coffee machine, and —without hesitation—smashed it on his ‘precious’ pristine marble floor. The look on his face almost made me satisfied. Almost.

Without a word, I went towards the couch at the other end, flopped onto it and pulled the blanket over my head.

Better, I thought as I closed my eyes. But I should’ve known he’d never let me have the last laugh.

Before I could drift off, I was yanked up, none too gently, and plopped onto his lap. His large, warm hands gripped my waist, pinning me in place.

“Adira,” he growled, his face mere inches from mine, “what you did was very childish, Flogítsa mou. Now, why don’t you apologize, yes?”

“No,” I snapped, crossing my arms defiantly.

“No?” his said, his brow quirked, his lips curling into a slow predatory smile. Oh, no. Before I could say anything, his hand began a torturous ascent up my thigh, his touch deliberate and infuriatingly teasing. Of all days to wear a dress…

“Stop that,” I hissed, my voice catching as I tried to swat his hand away.

“Then apologize,” he said, his voice calm, almost lazy, as though he wasn’t mere millimeters from my core.

“Absolutely not.”

His hand continued its maddening ascent and my breath hitched. My body betrayed me, leaning slightly into his touch, as tough it had a mind of its own and when I met his gaze, those stupid, stupid eyes seemed to smolder, pulling me in, making me forget why I mad in the first place. My gaze faltered, dropping to his full, kissable lips.

I bit my own lip—traitor! —and his knowing smirk widened.

“Adira, baby,” he murmured, “my eyes are up here.”

Mortified, I tried to wriggle off his lap, but his grip on my thigh tightened, the rough pads of his fingers brushing perilously close to my panties.

“No, no,” he murmured, his voice a teasing purr. “We don’t do that, Flogítsa mou. Apologize, and I won’t have to make you come undone right here on the lap of the man you claim to despise.” His lips brushed my ear, teeth grazing the lobe in a way that drew a gasp from me.

“Fine! Sorry!” I gasped out, my cheeks aflame.

Without warning, he unceremoniously dumped me onto the floor, clapping his hands like he was clearing dust from them.

“There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he said his grin as infuriating as ever.

I glared up at him, plotting his demise as he calmly opened his laptop, acting like nothing had transpired between us.

After a few minutes of silence, he glanced at me over the screen, his voice dripping with mock seriousness.

“Come on, Adira. Chop chop! These drafts won’t work on themselves now, will they?”

I stood up, brushing myself off as he began typing, completely ignoring me. My lips curled into a slow smile as I walked toward him, the score in this game of ours was very clear:

Adira:0, Andronikos:2

And pretty soon, I’ll even the playing ground.