She smiled, surprised. He didn’t say the words often, because they didn’t come easily to him, but he always seemed to know when she needed to hear them. “And I love you.” Harper gave him one last kiss before grabbing her purse and heading outside, where she hopped into the Audi. His expression unusually soft, Tanner started to speak, but she shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about Carla. Didn’t have the right to worry or anything else. They didn’t spend the journey in silence, though. They talked about general things, just like they did most mornings.

In the studio, Harper threw all her attention into her work. She smiled and talked and was glad of every distraction – hell, even Belinda’s appearance later that day was a distraction she was happy to use.

Washing her equipment, Harper listened as the cambion chatted on and on about the shindig. Belinda had eventually admitted defeat and dropped the idea to separate the Primes and VIPs from the rest of the demons at the event. She’d also fallen in line with Harper’s idea to jazz up the combat dome and use it as a large social area on the night. Now she was reading out the list of appetizers that would be served at the dome. Most of them sounded similar to the foods Jonas served at his mansion.

“What do you think?” asked Belinda, looking up from her clipboard.

“I think that’s the most unappetizing list I’ve ever heard in my life,” said Harper. “Can’t we just serve normal food? I’ll bet the people there would prefer that anyway.”

Belinda gave her one of those condescending smiles. “The Primes and VIPs will surely head there. Canapés and hors d’oeuvres are normal for people of their class.”

“Great, but it’s not their shindig. How about little sticks with chunks of steak on and half a potato wedge? They’d make good appetizers.”

Pausing in sweeping the floor, Devon hummed. “They sound good.”

Mouth gaping open in horror, Belinda stared at Harper in dismay. “Steak? Wedges? You can’t serve that at a black-tie event!”

“Why not?” It was her event.

Belinda spluttered. “It’s not proper.”

“But it means I won’t starve.”

Belinda sighed. “You’re being dramatic.”

“And you’re being unprofessional by ignoring what your client wants. Your job is to ensure that what I want comes to life, right?”

The cambion lifted her chin. “Knox won’t like it.”

Harper snorted. “He’d prefer that to seeing me hungry. He gets pissed if I miss meals.”

“Here are some alternative appetizers.” Belinda detached a leaflet-type menu from the clipboard and offered it to Harper.

Drying her hands, Harper took the leaflet and quickly scanned it. “I don’t even know what half this stuff is.” And if she couldn’t read the name of something, she wouldn’t eat it. “These are no good.”

Snatching back the menu, Belinda said, “We’ll leave the choice to Knox.”

“Yes, run to Knox.” Harper wiggled her fingers. “Pester him. Then he’ll come to me to work off his anger.”

“I’m trying to help you. I’ve worked for Knox many times. I’ve organized several events for him. I know him. I know what he likes and what he doesn’t like. You haven’t known him long enough to know what he’ll appreciate and what he will disapprove of. You hardly know him at all.”

This bitch was so close to getting smacked around. She smiled inwardly as Belinda’s eyes dropped to the brand on her throat. The cambion had looked at it a few times, but she’d said nothing. “Like it?” Harper asked.

“The artist has a steady hand,” said Belinda. “How nice of you to mark yourself for Knox.”

Yeah, like Harper believed for one second that the cambion really thought it was simply a tattoo. “You’re insulting yourself by pretending you don’t know what you’re looking at.” Oh, that comment got her a sneer.

“It will fade when he tires of you.”

Her inner demon snarled. Harper arched a brow. “Is that a fact?”

“Yes. And he’s bound to tire of you sooner or later.”

“That tone… it’s almost like you’re trying to goad me.” Gently slipping one of the jeweled, metal hair sticks from her loose bun, Harper infused it with hellfire. The simple accessory was now not only ablaze, but absolutely lethal. Fear flashed in the cambion’s eyes and she took a wary step back. “Don’t start a fight you don’t have a prayer of winning. Now go, Belinda, you’re pissing me off and I have shit to do.”

The cambion couldn’t seem to get away quick enough.

As she was passing the reception desk, Khloë scowled at Belinda and demanded, “Is it you that keeps moving my stapler?”

Looking befuddled, the cambion just stormed out.

Khloë whirled to face Harper, Devon, and Raini. “Seriously, who is doing it?” The phone rang, and the imp answered it with her “receptionist tone.” Then she called out, “Harper, Grams is on the phone! She wants to talk to you!”

Great. Easing the hellfire away, Harper returned the jeweled stick to her hair as she crossed to the desk. Taking the phone receiver from Khloë, Harper said, “I’m guessing you heard about Carla.”

“Yes,” replied Jolene. “Don’t be feeling guilty. It did not happen at your hand. You wouldn’t wish such a thing on anyone, not even her.”