The Devil's Mistress
He said flatly, though a corner of his mouth curved up.
Angelina was already flipping open her sketch pad. "Look! I drew you!" She said, turning the page to show a bright, colorful drawing of what looked like me with long dark hair, standing in a field of hearts and stars. There was even a tiny version of her holding my hand.
"It’s beautiful, sweetheart." I smiled, letting my fingers trace the edge of the page. "You’re getting so good at this."
She grinned and leaned against me.
The room felt warmer than usual, like someone had turned the world down to a slower, sweeter pace.
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