Page 11 of Married to the Devil

I can pretend to be someone else for a few more days.

3

RAFE

SIX YEARS LATER

Rafe Corvino, 42

June Ashworth, 28

Ifinish writing the check and stare at the numbers.

Six thousand dollars.

There’s no way in hell she’s going to buy it this time.

Like each payment before it, I keep thinking she’ll notice the pattern. Nobody’s that lucky, right?

That’s how life works.

The world takes. That’s all it ever does. The universe never gives.

Except for her.

“The usual place,” I say, sliding it across the desk.

Theodora scoops it up and tucks it into a folder. “How should we route this one? Fake federal program? Lottery winnings?”

“Leave cash on her doorstep in a paper bag.”

“Now you’re thinking, boss.” She beams at me. That movie-star smile. Theodora could be walking the runway if she wanted. Tall, nearly six foot, with big hair, blue eyes, and a figure to die for.

Instead, she’s my personal lawyer, and the best in the world.

“We have other business,” I say, eager to move on from this topic. I text my brother Silas for him to come join us for this part of the conversation.

Theodora knows me well enough not to linger. She sits and crosses her legs, opening her briefcase and tapping a sheaf of documents before putting them on my desk. “Twelve shell companies, as requested, four of which are international.”

I flip through and arch a brow. “Moscow? Really?”

“I’m particularly proud of that one.” Theodora yawns into her manicured nails as the door opens and Silas enters.

“Is my brother boring you already, darling?” Silas approaches with that swagger and his confident smile. It drives me fucking crazy. He’s around my height with our family’s trademark light gray eyes, but his hair’s longer, his clothes are much more expensive, and his ink trends toward color.

Except for the letters on his left knuckles.

Ashes.

“Never. I was up late last night getting everything settled.” Theodora doesn’t bother to look at Silas. They have a love-hate relationship. Mostly love from Silas and hate from Theo.

“Shame, love. I wish you were up late with me instead. When are you going to accept my standing invitation?”

“When cancer finally eats my cold, dead body, then maybe you can sleep with me.”

“Tempting, I’ll be honest.”

Theodora’s nose wrinkles.