He flicked his hand. The picture sailed back to where it should have been, without him touching it.
Bile rose in her throat. It was useless to pray for anything reasonable here, but she hoped his supernatural powers didn’t include dipping her in boiling oil like characters suffered in horror movies. “You have to listen to me. I’m not supposed to be in…in…” She couldn’t continue.
He looked at her questioningly. “You’re not supposed to be in Hell?”
“In that case, you’d have to be innocent.” He fingered his ring. “The same as everyone else down here. Right?”
Her face grew hot. How dare he dismiss her concerns out of hand, not even pretending to listen to her. Fury replaced her fear, intense heat stinging her skin. “For your information, I only signed the dumb contract because I needed the dough for my kid sister’s experimental treatments since the state’s program wasn’t helping, she doesn’t have any medical, her boyfriend can’t put her on his, and mine was useless—high deductibles, a lifetime cap, the insurance company denying everything. The jerk who conned me into this swore I wouldn’t have to come here for decades, meaning when I got old and checked out. I’m only twenty-five. For him to send me here immediately wasn’t what I agreed to. He breached the contract particulars, which makes it invalid. No way am I staying.” She pivoted.
The door that had been behind her was now a solid wall.
Suppressing a shiver, she turned and faced him again.
He rested his hands on his flat belly and tapped his ringed forefinger.
Another normal gesture, except pure sin—the good, sexy kind—radiated from him.\
Her legs got watery, his effortless masculinity chasing away her outrage and terror when it shouldn’t have. She locked her knees and squeezed her fists. “I want to talk to the person in charge.”
His eyebrows inched up. They were surprisingly dark given his light hair. “You mean Satan?”
Who else? His was the only name she knew besides Andros’s. If she hadn’t been too impoverished to save Holly’s life on her own, she wouldn’t be in this mess. Rather than pointing out the obvious and bitching, she poured on the charm. “Yeah. He’s good. Thanks.”
“Welcome. But as a newbie, you’ll have to wait several eons before he’ll put you on his schedule…if he does.”
A shriek caught in her throat. “I can’t stay here.”
He snapped his fingers. A paper bearing the word Contract at the top materialized next to him. He scanned the document. “Are you saying this isn’t your signature? If it’s not, then you do have a valid complaint. Take a look. Please. Let me know.”
The paper flew her way. She skittered away from it. “What if it is mine? That jerk demon promised—”
“Yeah, I got that.” He stood, his black dress pants hugging his powerful thighs. “Is your sister getting the treatments she needs?” Genuine concern rose in his eyes. “Is she better? Will she survive?”
His questions and unexpected worry touched her. “The docs swear she is and will, but—”
“Uh-uh.” He wagged his finger as he might to a rebellious child, his previous consideration gone. “We met our end of the bargain, and now it’s time for you to do the same.”
Her blood ran cold. “This is where the boiling oil comes in?”
He blinked. “What?”
She couldn’t believe he needed an explanation. “You’re going to torture me?”
“Torture? Like pulling out your fingernails or hammering spikes through your eyeballs?”
Sweat poured down her face and chest. She pressed her lips together, not wanting to give him any ideas.
Understanding sparked in his eyes. The emotion didn’t last. “Moving on, let’s focus on your duties here.” He rounded his desk and leaned against it. “Given your wait experience at Sally Jean’s, you’ll serve drinks in Hard Lust, the gentleman’s club I own along with Racan and Vespar, who you’ll meet shortly.”
She didn’t understand. “Gentleman’s what?”
“Club. It’s where the commotion is coming from.”
The wall trembled, pictures and mirrors jounced, crappy music swelled, and women and men bellowed in either pain or ecstasy.
He smoothed his pants. “You’re on duty twenty-three-seven and—”