Page 18 of Handsome Devil
She knewIwas here.
“Devi Sereda,” she said, offering her hand to me, like we’d never met in our lives. The same hand she once used to slap my face. “So nice to meet you.”
Chapter Four
Dane
Igot to my feet, and it pleased me that Devi had to look up to hold my gaze. Even in heels, she barely came up to my chin.
“Dane Davenport,” I said evenly, and shook her hand.
She squeezed me much harder than necessary, then yanked her hand discretely back.
“Mr. Davenport is visiting from Toronto,” Janelle explained to Devi. “His company owns Superior.”
“Oh, how impressive,” Devi said mildly.
“And you are…?” Janelle prompted.
“Just happening by,” Devi said. “On my way back to the office from a meeting.” She glanced at me, uneasily. I was standing too close, on purpose. Looming over her.
I glanced at Sir Stick-Up-His-Ass; he sat on Judgment Row, two tables over, and I wondered if he was getting all of this.
Yup.
Too bad; I’d probably be hearing about this later.
Even so, I looked Devi over, briefly, assessing how much she’d changed since high school. Not much. Same-ish height. Same-ish figure. More curves. Same dark eyes shooting murderous loathing in my direction, veiled with a put-on smile for anyone else who happened to look.
The scar.
It was gone. Like, non-existent.
Maybe whatever was left of it was covered by her flawless makeup?
In high school, rumor was that the otherwise attractive Devi Sereda had gotten the horrendous wound playing soccer. From a gnarly soccer-cleat-in-the-face incident. That rumor, like most rumors, was delivered to my earhole via my cousin. Admittedly, the sports injury angle did make her kind of badass. If it was true. When the wound finished healing up, though, the scar it left behind didn’t look much better.
Now… I wasn’t sure if I liked her face better or not. Kind of got used to that scar. But hands down, that annoyingly stuck-up girl I went to high school with was a total knockout.
And worked for a company my family owned?
Well, wasn’t this a turn of events.
“Won’t you join us?” I offered, putting on all the charming bachelor I could muster, mostly for anyone else who happened to look. I even tried to smile. It wasn’t my face’s natural position.
According to Velma, I had resting asshole face. She probably wasn’t wrong.
“Oh…” Janelle said, at the prospect of Devi joining us, though she didn’t follow it up with anything.
“I would love to.” Devi met my put-on charm and raised it with aShucks, I’m amazed you’d even asksmile. “Any chance to let head office know how amazing it is working with you,” she gushed in Janelle’s direction. “And how well we’re doing this year.”
Wow. That was so underhandedly vicious, I wasn’t sure anyone but a cutthroat like myself would pick up on it.
Janelle instantly warmed to the idea that someone had dropped by to sing her praises, though, and welcomed Devi to sit down.
“Yes. Sit.” I casually kicked a chair out from the table in Devi’s direction.
Her lips parted. Irritation flashed over her features, replaced with another careful smile. She darted a look at Janelle, who was face first in her second cocktail. Then she sat down, placing her giant tote on the floor between our chairs, like she was trying to erect a barrier between us any way she could.
