Demons Like It Hot (Demons Unleashed #2)(66)

“That’s a rather strange coincidence.”

“It was her mother.”

“As always, her mother has impeccable timing.”

“So this is a common occurrence.”

“You can say that.”

“So it’s just me and Serah then?”

“After I brief Rupert, Nigel, and their phantoms, I’ll zap back.” He paused. “Otherwise, you can always call Kalli.” Rafael chuckled. “Then again, she might scare Daniel away.”

“Scare him away?”

“Let’s just say Kalli looks like she’d fit better in a tattoo shop than a beauty parlor or a black tie, catered event.”

“Sounds scary.”

“She’s anything but. Don’t get me wrong, she’s pretty, but she’d rather hide behind dreadlocks, tattoos, and leather and lace corsets.”

“There’s a term for that, right?”

“Some people call it Goth, but she’s a bit edgier than that.” Rafael snorted. “To be honest, she makes her own style.”

“Sounds like an interesting character. Go ahead and let her know to keep alert.”

“Trust me, she’s good at it.” The phone cut out for a second. “Lucy’s on the other line. Hold on a second.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks.” With that, the phone clicked, and Matthias was left listening to dead air. He took a seat at the desk and propped his feet up on the corner. He knew he shouldn’t, but he was going stir-crazy in this cramped office. Every minute with Serah not in his sight drove him further over the edge. Every minute drove him closer to despising Daniel Blackburn and this stupid television show.

As if in ironic answer to his twisted prayers, the door swung open. Serah, chef’s hat askew, strode through the door.

“Dude, I know I told you to make yourself comfortable, but isn’t that a little extreme?”

Juggling the phone on his ear, he stifled his grumble. “Sorry. My legs got tired.” He took his feet off the desk and swiveled in his chair. “I’m holding for Rafe.”

Serah nodded. “Daniel’s leaving for a few hours. Hope your phantoms are ready.”

“Rafe’s on the other line with Lucy.”

“I just got done talking to her. She’s probably telling him the same thing I just told you.”

So he was the last on the chain to get notified? Was this where her priorities lay? “So you felt it necessary to call her first before talking with me?”

“I was on my way to tell you. It’s a force of habit to call Lucy first.” Shaking her head, she raked her hands through her corkscrew curls. “I seriously didn’t think it would be a big deal. Sorry.”

She took another deep breath of air. “I thought Rafe was in charge of this operation anyway. Why are you so concerned? I’m still safe.”

“Rafe is in charge of the overall mission. My mission is to protect you. Anything that has to do with your protection concerns me.” Why was he taking this so personally? Lucy was her best friend. Of course she’d go to her first.

“Noted.” The ire in her voice cut into him like his favorite dagger. Damn it. He could never do anything right when she was around. How was he supposed to complete this mission?

“I apologize, Serah. I’ve not had a mission like this in some time.”

“What sort of missions are you used to?”

He wasn’t ready for these questions. Not now. Hopefully not ever again, if everything went according to plan. He’d do his part and then take that mission in Siberia if he had to. He needed to get away from her before it was too late.

“Nothing a woman of your caliber should ever have to burden yourself with knowing.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

Oh, but it could. It would destroy any chance of redemption he’d had. If he were Serah, he wouldn’t forgive him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Serah nodded. “Believe me, I understand. More than you realize.” She exhaled a deep rush of air. “I can tell that you blame yourself for something.”

Shit. She was starting to remember. That was why she was taking this angle. She wanted to dig in deeper. He couldn’t risk it. “It’s a common habit, actually—demons and humans alike. Not much to talk about.”

“I see.” Serah pushed a curl behind her ear. “Sorry I didn’t run the news by you first. I am actually going to prepare dinner and wanted to know if you liked something in particular.”

“Anything will be fine. As long as it’s not hardtack.”

“I learned how to cook at the River City Culinary Institute, not in a Civil War army camp. How does lasagna casserole sound?”

Casserole? Was there any meal that could not be made into a casserole? He might not be up on the whole culinary scene, but he’d heard quite a bit about casseroles over the years. He wrinkled his nose.

“Why does everyone always turn their nose up at the word casserole?”

“It’s a bunch of leftovers thrown together in a dish.”

“Don’t let my Nonni hear you say that.”

“What’s so special about your casserole?”

“Do you like lasagna?”