Page 26 of A Chip on Her Shoulder

“That’s almost correct. I want the other goals to happen first, as I lose my motivation if my asshole brother has been restored. Frankly, he deserves to spend a few weeks as a chipmunk. Once I’m done securing my revenge, I will be expecting my asshole brother to shower me with gratitude.”

The Devil chuckled at that. “You’re not incorrect. You might be interested to know that he is considering biting you.”

“If he bites me, I’m throwing his furry ass into a lava pool and leaving him there.”

“He is no longer considering biting you.”

“That’s because he is not a complete idiot.”

“Your second goal is to murder all members of the mafia outfit responsible for transforming your brother into a chipmunk.”

“That depends if all members of the mafia outfit are guilty of crimes worthy of death and a long, painful stay here with you. Tell me, Lucifer. Are they all fucking assholes?”

“So, you do care about their guilt.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Then your second goal is to secure justice for the guilty, send the guilty for their earned stay in my dungeons, where you will supervise and possibly participate in their rehabilitation.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Your third goal is to do a personal investigation of my chest to discover if my nipples are nearly as appealing as in the painting.”

I raised a brow, eyeing the Devil. “You’re supposed to be evaluating bachelorette succubi for one who is willing to put up with you.”

“I will consider such a foolish endeavor should you be counted as one of the bachelorettes.”

“I will consider it only after my brother is dealt with, I’ve brought that outfit to its knees before sending every last one of those fucking assholes to the nastiest dungeon here, and I’ve paid my bills off in full. I told you, I don’t mix business and pleasure. You really are a vain creature, aren’t you?”

“I am,” the Devil admitted. “Business with me will be a pleasure, I promise you. That would be a suitable exchange. Not a bargain, but a business arrangement.”

“Unless you’re one of the mafia assholes who stuffed a transformative down my brother’s throat, I have no business with you beyond taking your place over until I’ve done my dirty work. You’ll probably survive.”

“You are very bold.”

“An archangel told me you were the only divine who might be able to help me, and I’m not stupid enough to bargain with you. I like my soul and wish to keep it where it belongs, in my custody, safe from your dungeons. I mean, I expect I’ll be earning my long-term residency as one of the many fucking assholes populating the place, but I have shit to get done first.”

“Would you at least hear me out before rejecting my proposition?”

“Show me this place while you pitch me. The amount of effort and my willingness to cooperate with you are directly tied to how comfortable your home is.”

“This is a part of my hells, Miss Darlene. It’s not supposed to be posh accommodations.”

“Bullshit, Sir Lord of Lies. An archangel told me you’re spoiled and require your luxuries. That means you have posh accommodations you don’t share with anyone because you have to maintain your appearances as the world’s most notorious bad guy. As such, you’re selfish, require training on how to share nicely with others, and otherwise need to undergo some serious reforms before a woman would even consider you to be husband material. You’re also a man who indulges in sin at every opportunity, so you probably wait maybe five seconds between women. That plays into most women not considering you to be decent husband material.”

“Do you have a death wish?”

“For me? No. For people who cross me right now? Yes. I’ve had a really bad day, and I don’t need any idiot man getting in my way right now. You can make this easy, or you can make this difficult. If you make this easy, I might actually consider your pitch, assuming it isn’t bullshit wrapped in even more bullshit.”

“Being seduced by me is never bullshit.” The Devil reached out and touched my cheek. “Your spots are lovely. How many of them are you hiding?”

The Devil could growl, and the cat in me appreciated the sound. “I said you could pitch me. If you want to negotiate for permission to count my spots, it better be a damned good pitch. There will be rules, Lucifer. You will follow them, or we’re finished with negotiations, and I will resume my hostile takeover of your hells until I’m done with them.”

“What are your rules?”

“At no time will you bargain for my soul. You can do nice things for my soul, but you can’t do mean things like steal it. It’s mine, and you cannot have it. I’m already scheduled to come here after death anyway, so you may as well just learn to be patient.”

The Devil chuckled. “And once your soul comes into my many hells?”