Page 93 of Hexed Up

“Ugh,” I say.

“I’m so glad you dumped that boy,” Tiggie pipes up, wandering round Horatio’s living room with a large glass of wine in her hand, examining all the stylish furniture and accompanying decor. “Molly, why doesn’t your flat look like this?”

I point towards the kitchen with my fork. Horatio and Alex are currently in there together, apparently concocting complicated-sounding cocktails.

“Because Horatio’s a banker,” I remind her, “and earns a lot of money, and I do not.”

“I don’t see why,” Prim says, pinching crumbs from her plate between her finger and forefinger and eating those too. “If your cakes are this good, how is your cupcake business not making a fortune?”

I feel my cheeks burn.

“Yeah, Molly,” Damien says with a wicked grin. “Why isn’t your cupcake business making a fortune?”

“Lots of competition,” I say. “It’s a hard business.”

Prim, who knows nothing really about the civilian world, accepts this answer without further question, and I suppress the urge to let out a big sigh of relief.

“I don’t know why you don’t just get a regular job,” Tiggie says, flopping down on the sofa beside me.

“What kind of regular job could I get? I’ve got no witching qualifications.”

“You could be an influencer. Like me,” Tiggie says, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “Or, you know, Mum would love you to take over the family business.”

“Oh my sweet pumpkins! Can you imagine me spending all day cleaning?” I actually shudder at the thought. Damien cackles because he has seen the extent of my messiness – he once had to come and rescue me from a pile of dirty washing that had gotten totally out of control. “No, I’m perfectly happy with what I do.”

“What do you do?” Alex says, walking into the living room alongside Horatio, who has a tray full of cocktails balanced in his hands. “I don’t think I ever asked you that.”

I swallow, my eyes darting first to Horatio and then to Damien in desperation. While my cupcake business cover story is enough to fool my family, I doubt it will hold up to scrutiny by an actual civilian who knows how things work in the ordinary world.

Luckily, Horatio has no desire to torture me like my demon best friend does and comes to my rescue, deftly changing the subject.

“Spicy Pineapple Margaritas,” he says. “Careful, they’re very strong. They’ll probably knock your socks off.”

Damien snorts at that idea, grabs one from the tray and knocks it straight back. Once his glass is drained, he shrugs nonchalantly. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whoah!” Alex eyes him in an impressed manner. “There’s a lot of spice in those.”

Damien simply shrugs again and leans back on the sofa.

Horatio offers me a glass and I take it from his hand, sipping at the yellow-coloured liquid. Immediately I’m blinking back tears.

“Holy hexes!” I exclaim. “Why would you make something like that?”

“Ooo, you’re not one of those masochists, are you? Into BDSM?” Damien leans forward again, his eyes suddenly alight with curiosity and interest.

“Are you?” Prim asks, eyeing the glass in her hand and hiccuping.

“Shit, are you?” Alex says.

“No,” Horatio exclaims. “Bloody hell, no. That’s how rumours start.”

“Are you a dom, then?” Damien asks.

“No!”

“It’s just you are very clean cut,” Tiggie points out. “And your shoes are exceedingly shiny.”

“And you do have that sort of authoritarian manner about you, Horatio,” Damien adds, everyone nodding in agreement.