Chapter Seven

Coco

" V ale! It's time to get up!" I call out, yanking open kitchen drawers. Mariah watches from her perch on the couch, tilting her head curiously. I know she's wondering why I haven't fed her yet, but this is important.

From across the apartment, Vale lets out a sleepy groan. "Mmph. Five more minutes . . ." he says, his voice muffled by pillows.

"No. Up now!" I snap. This is why I don’t skip my morning routine. Sure, I woke up early, but I’ve wasted all my extra time with this fool’s errand. Maybe I can fit in a quick meditation before work, but with Vale here, annoying me with just his presence, I highly doubt it.

The junk drawer makes a loud bang as I shut it, my frustration growing. "I'm looking for a ring. We need a ring," I grumble, not bothering to hide my irritation.

Vale sits up, rubbing his face. "You can stop with all the banging. I'm waking up now, see? What are you doing?"

I open another drawer and riffle inside. There has to be one somewhere. I usually don’t wear jewelry on my hands, I always fidget with them when I’m listening to clients, but maybe my sister accidentally left a ring behind last time she visited. I’d wear an oversized ring after the tense conversation I had with Grimshaw. "I need a wedding ring, Vale. Don't you think it's a tad suspicious that I don’t have a ring?" Who proposes without a ring? Even for a fake proposal, there must be some semblance of decorum.

He gestures lazily to the monitor around his horn, its yellow light blinking steadily. "Got one right here, courtesy of Judge Grimjaw."

I rub my temple, feeling a headache coming on. Vale smirks, looking far too amused. "No less suspicious than me marrying such an uptight human in the first place."

That's it. I stride across the room, my pencil skirt giving me an awkward shuffle, and grab the edge of the comforter wrapped around him, yanking it hard. Mariah sees the commotion and starts yapping at us from the couch. She gives one final frustrated bark to remind me that I still haven’t fed her breakfast.

"Whoa, hold up!" Vale says, pulling the blanket back. I almost lose my balance and faceplant into his lap. "Gotta get my morning selfie first. Fans expect it. "

I fold my arms across my chest and watch in disbelief as Vale arranges himself among the pillows and comforter for his selfie. He artfully drapes his arm across the side of his face, hiding the horn monitor. He snaps a couple of pictures, then turns his camera to me with a pleased smile. "What do you think? Perfectly disheveled, right?"

I frown, but can't help noticing how unfairly attractive he looks, like a sleeping, demonic Adonis, all crimson skin and wicked grace. The image reminds me of how I found him this morning: His face relaxed and unguarded, strong arms tight around me, his warm body pressed against my back. I can still feel the ghost of his breath on my neck, his firmness wedged between my—

My entire body turns hot. Vale's tongue flicks out between his lips, tasting the air. His eyes turn dark, and his grin grows wicked.

I clear my throat. I push the phone back towards him with the tips of my fingers. "I think you're feeding an unhealthy obsession. Social media warps reality, Vale."

"Tell me something I don't know, Doc," he scoffs, typing furiously. "Nothing I hate more than sharing my life online, but I sold my soul to the influencer gods long ago."

I open my mouth to argue, ready to tell him he’s not sharing his life online if he’s not being authentic, but I stop myself. It’s not worth it. I shake my head, exasperated. "Are you done? Can you get out of my bed now? "

He answers while still staring at his phone. "One sec. Waiting on my social media manager's approval—and posted!"

I bend down to pick up Mariah’s bowl on my way back to the kitchen. After scooping her breakfast into the bowl, I set it on the ground. She scurries down her ramp and goes to her placemat like the couch is on fire. I bend down and run a hand over her fluffy fur as she eats. When I look up, I see Vale still in bed, staring at his phone, his earlier smile replaced by a frown. There’s a new line of concern etched between his brows. Are his fans ignoring his selfie?

I walk over to the edge of the bed, glaring down at him. "Vale, I'm giving you five seconds to get out of this bed before I unleash Mariah on you. Don't let her size fool you—there's a reason her last name is Scary."

Vale finally tears his eyes off his screen and glances at Mariah. She raises her head and growls at him; it’s hard to take her seriously with chunks of wet dog food clinging to her lips.

"If that thing comes anywhere near me, I'm calling my lawyer," he says, eyeing Mariah warily.

" I 'll see you at the same time next week." I hold the door open for my client, a burly demon who smells of pine and gasoline. He's my only demon patient who' s stuck around past the initial visit, coming regularly since the clinic opened. His fire neurosis is different from most psychomagic-dysfunctional patients I’m trained to treat; my client purposely abstained from using his powers in the past. But no matter the pathology, his relationship with fire has improved significantly; now our sessions are mostly for maintenance. Unfortunately, this one success isn’t enough to keep my clinic open.

As he nods politely at my comment, I can't help but think of his petite, sunshine-bright fiancée. Another happily paired human and demon. Just like Noelle and Rom, they're a picture of coupled bliss—everything my fake marriage isn't. We couldn’t pretend to be that happy even if we tried.

The client doesn't spare Vale a glance as he passes the reception desk. Not that Vale would notice; he's hunched over his phone, frowning intently at the screen. Same position he was in before my appointment started.

As soon as my client is gone, I circle the desk and nudge Vale’s chair with the toe of my shoe. He tilts the screen away before I can see what he’s frowning at, but I don’t need to look to know what’s distracting him—Nymphstagram, no doubt. "Hey Mr. Actor, can you put down your phone and at least pretend to work? A disengaged receptionist is not the image I’m going for. ”

Vale spins to face me, a smirk playing on his lips. "I am working. You told me to sit here and answer phones.” He gestures vaguely to the office phone. “No one has called."

My eyes flick to his horn monitor, its yellow light steady and inscrutable. Judge Grimshaw said I'd be in charge of Vale's volunteer hours, but what does that mean exactly? Is there a slip I’m supposed to sign? "So, what's the point of that anyway? What does the light mean?” I motion to the monitor.

His hands fly to cover his horns, his eyes wide with embarrassment, but he relaxes when he realizes I’m not talking about his underdeveloped horns. "I don't know. I wasn't really listening during the meeting with our probation officer." The chair squeaks as he leans back, his phone already angled towards his face again. His eyes slowly drift back to the screen.

I push the phone down away from his face, exasperation rising. "You met with your probation officer, and you weren't listening?"

He glares, a flicker of genuine annoyance in his eyes. "I have more important things to worry about right now."

I sigh heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose. Where are the heavy-duty painkillers? The headache he’s giving me is quickly upgrading to a migraine. "Fine. Since I have a little bit of time before my next appointment—"

Vale spins back to the computer, bringing up my nearly empty schedule with a flick of the mouse. "Looks like you have a couple of days before your next appointment," he says, a little too gleefully.

Ignoring the jab, I continue. "This would be a good time to go over ways to make my clinic more demon friendly. I know privacy is crucial, so I've really pushed for soundproofing all client rooms and double-encrypted patient information. I think you'll be impressed with the safeguards I've implemented." I lean against the counter, hoping he finds this topic of conversation as exciting as I do.

He tries to muffle a snort with his hand.

I fold my arms, my ID badge digging into my chest. "What? You don't agree?"

"I didn't say anything."

From this angle, I can see his screen, and I’m surprised to find it’s not Nymphstagram, but a text chain. Blue bubbles from his side of the conversation crowd the display, with no responses on the other side. Guilt pricks at me for snooping, and I force my gaze to the opposite side of the room. He may be an ass, but that doesn’t mean I have to give up all my integrity. "I had keypads installed on the doors," I continue my explanation, "so each patient receives a unique code for their appointment time—"

He laughs outright this time, his eyes still transfixed to his phone.

My frustration rears its ugly head. "You obviously have something to say, so please say it."

Vale's laughter grows louder. He sets his phone down and braces his stomach with a hand. Once he finds his composure, he wipes a tear from his eye with a happy sigh. "No, no. Please continue. This is hilarious."

"Vale, we made a bargain that you would help me. So please help me!" I hate the desperation creeping into my voice, making me sound like a whiny child.

He finally looks at me, sighing in defeat. "Fine. You're right. I did make a bargain."

Hope flares as I push off the counter, ready to give him a full tour of the clinic. I stop and backtrack when I realize he hasn't budged from his seat.

Instead, Vale stares at the keyboard, pressing a finger thoughtfully to his lips. After a long, puzzling moment, he tilts the keyboard slightly to the left. He turns, giving me a satisfied smile.

I blink, and blink again. I have to fight the urge to straighten the keyboard so it’s parallel again. "That's it?"

"Yeah. My job here is done,” he says with pride.

Leaning over him, I search for some hidden meaning in the angled keyboard. "You're messing with me, right? How is moving my keyboard slightly to the left going to help save my clinic?"

Vale holds up a finger. "Hold on, it's noon. I need to snap a picture for Nymphstagram."

Before I can protest, he raises the camera and snaps a photo of me hovering over his shoulder .

"You look really cute when you're angry," he says, admiring the image. I look like a spooked forest creature next to his handsome, perfectly poised face. As he types the caption, he reads aloud, "Out here serving the good people of Winter Bliss. I may play a hero in a movie, but my wife is a hero in real life—”

I lunge for the phone, but he's already hit post.

"What is your problem? I thought we had a deal. We agreed to help each other. This is not helping."

He pockets his phone and stands, suddenly close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him. His chest nearly brushes mine as he boxes me against the desk, a leering smile on his face. Fury courses through me, but traitorous tingles of attraction spark where we almost touch. I fight the urge to lean into him, closing that maddening gap.

"So here's the thing, wifey," he whispers darkly. My skin tingles as the word wifey rolls off his tongue. "I agreed to help you, right? But you never specified how. Bargaining 101, always be specific.”

I gasp. "You can't do that. I'm going to tell Judge Grimshaw."

An amused smile plays on his lips. "Please, go ahead. I can't wait to see what happens when he finds out you lied in court. I can't wait to see you in orange. Maybe he'll get us matching jumpsuits.”

My spine stiffens, but I raise my chin defiantly. "Fine, if you're not keeping your end of the bargain, I don't need to keep mine. Have fun going to those press events alone."

He lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. "I can't wait to tell the other demons you broke a devil's bargain." He leans in, his lips nearly brushing my ear. "Do you know what they do to humans who break bargains?"

I can't hide the tremble in my voice. "W-what?"

"They throw them into the volcano, Mt. Winter Bliss." He pulls back, grinning triumphantly.

"You're lying."

He holds my gaze, silently daring me to call his bluff.

My mind races. Surely they wouldn't actually throw me into a volcano, but would breaking a bargain be such a cultural faux pas that it'd destroy any chance of building trust with the demon community?

I grit my teeth and push past him, desperate to put some distance between us. "I'm going to go clean the immolation machine," I grumble, retreating to the other side of the clinic.

I dismiss Vale in the afternoon, his uselessness grating on my last nerve. He mumbles something about a virtual trainer session and meeting me at home later. I barely acknowledge him, too frustrated to care if he takes all night .

Instead of my usual post-work routine, I decide Mariah and I need a girls' night out. A Vale-free evening at the park, eating greasy fries and reading a one-shot explicit Quantum fanfic on my phone while Mariah sniffs every furry butt within reach of her leash.

I've just pulled away from the drive-through, the scent of salt and potato filling my car, when my phone buzzes. Officer Gertie Dale's name flashes on the screen, requesting a meeting at the courthouse. My stomach clenches as I drive to meet her.

The sun is setting as I pull into the parking lot, casting long shadows across the asphalt. Mariah whines from her booster seat, eyeing the fries with longing.

“Be patient.” I pat her on the head. I spot Gertie’s imposing figure across the parking lot. We met briefly once before when she delivered files to Grimshaw’s house, but accidentally knocked on my door.

I meet her halfway, my pulse quickening despite her casual tone on the phone call.

"Thanks for coming," she says, handing me a thick packet and a bracelet that looks like a large version of the one on Vale’s horn. "I couldn't find you after the proceeding. Didn't want Vale getting fined on his first day for unapproved service hours."

I turn the bracelet over in my hands. "I'm sorry, what is this about?"

Gertie blows out a heavy sigh and rubs a meaty knuckle between her thick brows. "He didn't tell you? Typical.” She jabs at the packet. "Each compliance officer needs to check their charge in and out of community service. The yellow light on his monitor will turn green when he’s checked in correctly. Red means he’s in an area that’s off-limits. He’s restricted from leaving the county, entering bars, liquor stores, or driving a car. There’s a fine for each of those. He must complete 250 of service in twelve weeks. That’s about the gist of it, but there’s more information in the packet. I suggest you read it."

The implications slowly sink in. "I'm in charge of verifying Vale's hours?"

Gertie nods, securing the bracelet to my wrist with practiced efficiency. The bracelet is heavier than it looks.

I glance back at Mariah, her nose pressed against the foggy window. Her barks are muffled through the glass. "What happens if they don't complete their hours?"

"Weekly fines, at first. But too many of those are sure to piss off the judge, and if he gets mad, he can commute Vale’s sentence to be served in prison," Gertie replies, her tone matter-of-fact.

A slow smile creeps across my face as I mull over the possibilities. This bracelet isn’t just a responsibility—it’s leverage. The only way to ensure Vale keeps his end of the bargain .

"Thank you, Officer Dale," I say, with newfound determination in my voice. "I'll make sure Vale stays on track."

“Coco?”

I stop, turning back to face her.

Gertie flashes me her tusks, her eyes gleaming with mischief. A pair of handcuffs—the normal, wrist bracelet kind, not the ones they designed for demons—dangles from her finger. “You forgot these.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Just another way to keep him on track.” She tosses me the handcuffs. Does she expect me to handcuff Vale if he’s misbehaving? If that’s the case, shouldn’t she have given me the fireproof kind?

It’s not until I’m in my car, dropping the cuffs in my console, that I realize what she means. Should I be weirded out that Vale’s probation officer is giving me advice to spice up our ‘marital bedroom’? I’m just glad she’s buying the lie.

T wenty minutes later, I stand outside Grape Juice, a trendy, upscale wine bar. The crisp October air nips at my face and ears, but the warmth of my newfound leverage keeps me cozy. The bar's entrance is open beside me, the low hum of conversation spilling onto the street. I had to drop poor Mariah at home, but the few cold fries I tossed her way will placate her until dinnertime. This moment is worth the wait.

Vale arrives right on time, his too-tight gym clothes clinging to his sweat-slicked body. His brow furrows as our eyes lock. I greet his scowl with a serene smile and a friendly wave.

"What's the emergency?" he growls, not bothering to hide his irritation. "It better be important. I had to cut my virtual training sesh short. Coach is making me do extra burpees tomorrow because of it."

I gesture to the neon "Grape Juice" sign, wreathed in flowers behind us, visible from the bar entrance. "Have you seen the backdrop here? It's gorgeous. Perfect photo op. We can grab a drink and snap some pics for your fans."

Vale's eyes narrow, searching my face for deceit. I maintain my innocent look, silently praying my hormones won’t betray me somehow. Finally, his shoulders relax. "A drink sounds nice. I'm glad you finally took that stick out of your ass, Doc—"

He steps inside. Instantly, his monitor lets out a shrill beep and flashes red. "What the—" Vale glances up, whacking the device. "This thing must be defective—"

His phone chimes loudly, cutting him off. I bite my lip, anticipation building as he checks the screen. The color drains from his face as soon as he does.

"What the fuck. I just got charged five hundred dollars from the . . . Winter Bliss County Sheriff's office?!"

I feign surprise. " Weird. Let me see." I step further into the bar. Vale follows, eager to show me his phone. Another simultaneous ping and beep.

"What the—it charged me again!"

I drop the act, savoring the moment. His frustration. If I had a vomeronasal organ, I’d be tonguing the air right now. "That's for lying about the bargain, jerk.”

Realization dawns in his eyes, jaw clenching. "You knew it would do this?" he grits out. "And I wasn't lying. It was a loophole. There's a difference. Which you seem to know now, you m-m-master m-manipulator." He stumbles over the words, a flicker of panic crossing his face at the slip.

I shrug, smirking. "You're a good teacher." I push up my sleeve and wave my new bracelet in his face. "Looks like I don't need a ring after all. I have this. Shape up and actually help me, like you agreed, or kiss more money goodbye. I won't sign off on your community hours if you refuse to work."

"So? I'm a Hollywood actor with a big m-m-movie coming out. I can afford the hit."

"It'll be hard to attend your premiere from a jail cell. Who will make a movie with a criminal? What did Judge Grimshaw call you? An ashfire imp? I'm sure he’ll be elated when he hears you failed to meet the terms of your probation. Oh, and you're sleeping on the floor. Touch my bed, and I’m not signing you in.”

"Who’s gonna make me?" he growls, but there’s a flicker of something else beneath his anger.

I lean in close, holding his gaze. "I am. I have all the power here. If you’d listened to your probation officer, you’d already know that. You see, I did listen to her. And I read the instruction packet. Bargaining 101, pay attention to the specifics. "

I expect him to deflate, to storm off, but no. His nostrils flare, and his eyes go heated. I can’t tell if it’s anger or intrigue. His breathing quickens slightly as he struggles to maintain his composure. "Fine. Whatever. I'll see you at home." He turns to leave.

"Oh, Vale?"

He turns back, giving me a wary glance. "What?"

I hook my hand around his horn, it’s barely big enough for my hand to grasp, and yank him towards me. A soft sound escapes him before he can stop it. The monitor and bracelet chime in unison, pairing the devices, the last step in the instructions. Music to my ears. "That's for calling Mariah an oversized rat." I release him. “Now you may go.”

He backs away, his eyes dark and conflicted. I catch the way his hands clench and unclench at his sides before he turns and leaves, his usual confident stride slightly unsteady.