The Devil (BOOK I + II)

15 | "Rolie Polie Olie"

Chapter Fifteen
   "Rolie Polie Olie"

"there's no such thing as the 'voiceless.'
there are only the deliberately silenced,
or the preferably unheard."
— arundhati roy

┏━━━━━━━┓

   The beginning of October came and went smoothly, thankfully.

   The weather changed, and so did the outfits. And still, no sign of my family or any of their employees. And while I didn't have to put all my worries onto them, I couldn't help but avoid stressing about Daemon.

   We were keeping this casual—mostly my doing, but I knew he agreed with my decision. My rule to basically say fuck off to everyone was still intact, although I was still curious to how the hell he managed to get through my barriers.

Maybe I was attracted to annoying, soulless robots?

   But what I knew for sure was that Daemon was way too prideful over the fact he was the first I'd been with. His ego was stroked after the first night, but when I tried to tame it by warning that I had experienced with guys after I escaped my family, he just slammed his lips to mine and silenced me.

   I blamed it on the fact he didn't want to have a bruised ego, but I digress.

   "Mega-slut," Sydelle sang as she strutted inside the florist shop, taking me away from my thoughts in the process. "Mama's asking when's the next time you both can meet up. Something about the fundraiser."

   I sent a smile in her direction before walking around the counter. Taking a quick glance from the clock on my left, I saw that it just hit five in the evening, so I started untying my apron.

   "Why didn't she call me?" I asked, dropping the fabric on the table next to me before crossing my arms. Sydelle only shrugged before stopping a foot away from me.

   "Don't ask me, I'm just the hot messenger."

   "Hot messenger?" I chuckled and tilted my head to the right, scrutinizing her light wash mom jeans, black belt, and white turtleneck sweater. Her hair was styled naturally, with her wispy bangs covering her forehead, but the rest of her hair falling just under her collarbone. "You could pull off cute messenger. Nice jacket."

   She grinned and grabbed the lapels of her tan pea coat before doing a spin for me. "You like? I got it on sale a week ago."

   "You went shopping without me? Betrayed."

   With a playful glare, she slapped my shoulder. "I had to buy an outfit for Friday. By the way, we're clubbing with Doris." She ignored my shocked expression with a smirk, "And please. You've been spending almost every day with your toy."

   "First, since when was the club thing happening? And second, he's not my toy." It was my turn to glare. "And we're spending time with me kicking his ass."

   Not the complete truth. Daemon is scarily a good fighter, with faster reflexes than anyone I've fought with. But every time I attempted to ask where he learned his skills, he'd just step back and warn me to hit harder.

   "Kicking his ass or fucking his—"

   "Sydelle!" I shouted but cleared my throat when I recognized my alarmed tone. I quickly laughed to hide my distraught. "We're training. No ass fucking here."

   "Shame," she smirked, twirling in her spot so she could push her shoulder against mine. "It's not too late to try, though."

   I rolled my eyes before gripping her upper arm. With a quick shove, she stumbled back a few steps before pouting. "You wound me."