Page 39 of Devil’s Promise

And some of their swagger is good. But they need to learn how to shave the edges off their style. Take some of the aggression out but leave the confidence.

I meet Angel’s gaze in the mirror and smile, his gaze narrows at me in suspicion.

Standing up on tiptoe, I reach over his shoulder and gently touch his chin. Slowly, I pull the angle down a few degrees.

Then I point to Axel. I touch my own chin and use my other hand to lower my jaw too. He gets the message. “Gunner, lower your chin a little.”

Next, I use the toe of my high-heel shoe to kick Angel’s foot in a few inches, so his stance is less wide. Men don’t stand that wide in suits.

Gunner and Axel do the same.

I point to the man now browsing the racks.

“He looks like a puff,” Gunner rumbles.

I frown before I hold out my hand for Angel’s phone. “Nineteen ninety-five,” he says as he hands it to me. I take a beat, staring at the ceiling for a second, trying to decide what I’ll say. Finally, I start to type.

Men in my father’s circle are wolves in sheep’s clothing. They are filthy predators, but they hide it under affable smiles and easy grace. They are confident but usually have the control not to be openly aggressive.

I hand the phone back to Angel, who reads the message to his brothers.

Axel softly curses as I slip on a coat from one of the racks. It’s way too big, but I show them several moves. How a man would unbutton his coat and place a hand in his pocket to look more casual. How he’d take his jacket off and drape it on his arm.

Gunner goes to run a hand through his hair, and I reach for his hand to stop him.

The second I touch him, he snarls and I pull my hand back like I’ve been burned. Taking Angel’s phone again, I type:

Sorry. I didn’t mean to touch. But you shouldn’t touch your hair. In a world where men care about their appearance, they would never touch it unless they were nervous. It’s a sign of weakness.

“You’re fucking shitting me,” Gunner spits. “What else?”

“She can explain more in the car. We’re already late.” But Angel is looking at me with a sharp appreciation that both makes me hot in all sorts of strange places and also makes me the tiniest bit nervous.

Yesterday his appreciation was all sexual. But his gaze now… I’m more than just a toy or a distraction. I’m a tool.

Is that good? Should I hope that I prove valuable enough to win Angel’s allegiance? Or am I fooling myself that he’d ever choose me over my powerful father?

It’s more than I should hope for. My silence has been my only successful power play and Angel is breaking it down. Together, the two of them could destroy me.

We leave, the brothers still wearing their suits, Angel carrying the bags from our other purchases.

I bought a silk wrap in a pale pink that should make the wedding dress my father sent work. There is no way I could get another gown of that quality on such short notice. And wearing quality is part of the image.

The fact that my father tried to change our look makes me certain he’s trying to paint both me and Angel in a negative light.

What I don’t understand is what he gets out of that.

Just an excuse to remove me from the light? It would help if I knew what Angel wanted out of the agreement with my father.

But now isn’t the time to ask any of those questions. The brothers already think I’m working some other agenda. Does exposing my father have the power to hurt Angel?

My guess, he’s leveraging my father’s position, and he would not wish to be part of my plan.

I spend the car ride continuing to coach Angel, Axel, and Gunner.

Angel starts a group chat so everyone can read the texts. I give them tips as best I can.

We finally reach the country club, my nerves jangling as Angel hands me out of the car.