The Devil You Need
DOOM’S POV
My shoulder still throbbed like a bastard, but I refused to let it show.
I swapped my usual suits for a simple black shirt and a pair of tailored shorts, unbuttoned just enough to tease. It was warm tonight, and Sally liked casual Doom, something about seeing the devil without armor made her smile, maybe because it made her feel closer.
The dining room lights were dimmed low, casting a golden warmth across the mahogany table. Candlelight flickered beside the fine china, and soft instrumental jazz hummed from the walls. I had told the staff to stay far away, tonight was ours.
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