#06

I"ve had the Devilin my life long enough by now to know that it"s absolutely no coincidence when my phone rings the exact time I reach the address he"s texted me.

Riiiiiiing.

It"s my first time using wireless buds, and I don"t realize my volume needs adjustment until I nearly go deaf as my phone starts blaring out directly to my ear.

Ouch!

Never putting my cellphone on silent is the Devil"s new rule, but since I don"t like having people look at me because of my phone ringing, I"ll need to quickly get a hang of these stupid wireless things before I go deaf.

Riiiiiiing.

I fumble for the controls, and I barely avoid missing the Devil"s call for the second time.

Cutting it quite close, aren"t we?

"I"m sorry, sir."

Ring the doorbell, please.

I do as asked, and the Devil thanks me in his usual disguised voice. I still find it surreal how the Devil seems to have the loveliest manners every time he talks to me on the phone, but maybe this, too, is part of his plan to keep me from ever regaining my bearings. It"s hard to remember he"s a cold-blooded killer when he"s being so gentlemanly.

My uneasy gaze swings back to the three-story building in front of me. Black slate walls, heavily tinted windows, and double steel doors that make me feel I"m about to enter a vault. But since there"s no commercial signage that points to it being a bank, curiosity eventually gets the better of me, and I hear myself ask, "Is this someone"s house?"

Most days, it is.

Uh-oh.

I don"t think I like the sound of that. I"ve watched my share of crime thrillers, and it always starts with the protagonist (me) doing something stupid (totally me) and next thing they know, they"re already working for the drug cartel and caught between gang wars and—-

Click.

The sound of the doors automatically unlocking interrupts my thoughts.

Go on.

I take a deep breath and brace myself for the worst, but all that greets me is a foyer with the same black slate walls and chessboard tiles.

The owner of the place is an acquaintance of mine, Lance Perry.

Perhaps you"ve heard of him?

"I don"t think so?"

He"s the official photographer for various European royal families.

My heart drops to my stomach. Does he really think his acquaintance"s credentials will make any difference?

You don"t seem pleased to hear this.

If I needed more proof that the Devil"s watching me again, that would be it, but right now that"s the least of my worries.

Why?

"Because I know what you"re planning."

Enlighten me.

"I"m here to have my nudes taken," I say stiltedly. "Aren"t I?"

Strange, alien noise bursts from the other end of the line.

It"s the Devil laughing at me.

Again.

And I"m starting to realize I might have said something stupid.

What is it with your obsession with your nudes?

I slowly cover my flushed cheeks...and scream silently into my hands.

When will you stop embarrassing yourself, you idiot?

I"m starting to think you have a subconscious desire to give me your nudes.

"No, I don"t!"

You can give them to me, you know.

I"d be happy to take them.

"I don"t have any nudes—-"

The combined sounds of laughter and footsteps cut me off, and I glance up to see a distinguished-looking man in his forties descending the staircase. His eyes twinkle as our gazes meet, and he only speaks upon reaching me.

"So..."

His gaze turns keen with interest.

"What"s this I"m hearing about nudes?"

Oh my God. He heard that?

"I, um..." I wait for the Devil to tell me what to say, but all I hear instead is the telltale sound of the call being terminated from the other end.

Well, crap.

The older man chuckles. "Relax, my dear. I was only teasing you. I"m Lance, by the way, and you are, of course, Sheena."

"Um, yes."

"My studio is in the third floor," Lance adds as he leads me up the stairs, "and I"ve got the entire squad waiting."

I"m torn between wanting and dreading to know what kind of squad he"s talking about. The words "goon squad" keep flashing in my mind, and that"s entirely possible, isn"t it? This is the Devil we"re talking of, after all, and—-oh.

We"ve finally made it to the third floor, and I"m just plain confused this time as Lance cheerfully introduces me to his colleagues, which include a hair stylist, makeup artist, wardrobe consultant, and skincare specialist.

"This will take hours," Lance warns with another grin, "but I promise you"ll have fun every minute."

****

I"M IN A DAZE WHENLance"s glam squad finally lets me go, and Lance laughs at the way I can"t stop staring at my reflection in the mirror.

Silky, shiny hair? Check.

Fresh, glowing skin? Check.

Clothes that are actually presently fashionable? Check.

Suffice to say, every part of me that required trimming, waxing, and shaving has been trimmed, waxed, and shaved, and I can"t even remember just how many outfits Lance had me try...before taking a photo of.

A part of me is still worried that those photos of his could be well on their way by now to the highest bidders, but at least they"re not nudes, right?

I kind of expected people would be looking at me when I get back to the dorm, but the way everyone is staring at me has alarm bells ringing in my head. I know Lance"s given me a bit of an upgrade in the looks department, but there"s just something about the way they"re staring at me...

Oh, so that"s why.

Everything becomes clear as soon as I enter my room, which has also benefited from a makeover of its own, and a rather costly one at that.

My old electric fan is gone, and I now have a fancy-looking A/C installed. My secondhand bed has been replaced with something big and new, my old chair swapped for a stylishly ergonomic Herman Miller model, and my en-suite is now equipped with not just a fully-automated Japanese toilet but a state-of-the-art single-person Jacuzzi as well.

I have no idea how the Devil made all of this happen in a matter of hours, but what"s more puzzling than that is the why of it.

Why is the Devil doing this?

Honestly, I"m not even sure if I want to know the truth, and my uncertainty only grows when my phone starts to ring.

Good evening, Sheena.

The sudden change of greeting makes me feel self-conscious, and I find myself stammering in response. "Good, um, evening?"

Do you like your surprise?

I swallow hard. "I, uh, yes..."

You don"t sound like it.

"I"m just overwhelmed and confused. I don"t understand what this is about."

Are you sure?

Don"t make any assumptions, Sheena.

I repeat the words over and over, but it"s no use, and I find myself holding my breath. Is the Devil about to tell me...he likes me?

You"re a smart girl.

I mean...

All of this is like a scene straight out of Pretty Woman except I"m more nerdy than, um, hooker-ish, so what else can this be but—-

I"m sure you"ve figured it out by now that this is your punishment.

I feel like slamming my head against the wall.

So stupid, Sheena!

He"s the Devil, after all, and I should"ve expected that his reasons for doing these things would be something appropriately devilish.

Everything in your room now reminds you of me.

And everything you"ll be wearing from here on is what I bought for you.

I know I should know better by now, and not let have anything he say affect me, but...

The Devil"s words are still treacherously beguiling as ever, and my legs snap together as heat starts tingling through my body.

The picture he"s painting is mesmerizingly sensual, but...

"How is that a punishment?"

It will be once people inevitably start asking you questions.

Humans, not cats, have always been the more curious of creatures.

Sooner or later, they"ll want to know how this is all came about—-

"And how am I supposed to answer them then?"

You"ll tell them the truth, of course.

You"ll tell them that all of this, and all of you...belongs to me.

"The Devil?"

You"ll tell them you belong to Sir.