His Unexpected: A Demon Romance (COMPLETE)

Prologue - A Trade With The Devil

Blaise

If I'd known that morning that I would be staring at my reflection in the tinted window of Ash Augustine's limousine, I probably would have taken the time to brush my hair. At the same time, I'd woken up thinking that demons didn't exist, and that I'd never have to worry about being given to one by my own father. But, as you can probably tell, things went quite differently than I'd expected.

I crawled out of bed when the sun shining through my curtains became too much to ignore, and headed to the bathroom, where I threw my hair into the messiest of buns ever to exist. Rollover makeup from the dinner my father had hosted the previous evening was smudged around my cognac eyes, and sleepless shadows sat below them. I brushed my teeth, and called it good. As far as I knew, we weren't expecting any esteemed guests that day, though even if we were, my routine would have been nearly identical.

See, I was the useless daughter of one of New York City's most prolific mafia families, and I couldn't give two shits about it. Daughters couldn't become Bosses, so why even bother involving them? At least, that was my dear dad's thinking. And so I got to sit around and look pretty for the important guests, and fuck off the rest of the time. Living in a mansion is every 22 year old's dream, until they find out they can never leave said mansion, or have friends, or boyfriends, or anything really. All I had was my music, and reading, and that was pretty okay with me.

Oh, and my secrets.

I threw on my Architects t-shirt and some high-waisted shorts, and headed downstairs to see what trouble I could find. The mansion was quiet that day, save for a light humming. I peaked into the kitchen where it was coming from, and saw my mother preparing omelettes.

"Morning!" she called without turning around, and I smiled. The rest of my family might have been garbage, but she was pretty cool. Save for the fact that she was completely subservient to the men of the family, but I couldn't blame her too much for her upbringing.

"Smells great," I told her, and moved to stand next to her. "What's the occasion?"

"Oh, just felt like making something for myself," she said, and folded one of the omelettes. "I feel bad making the maids do it all the time, you know?"

"Right, right. What's in them?"

My mother beamed at me, and began pointing out ingredients. She'd always loved teaching me how to cook, and even though I was more independent, more withdrawn as an adult trapped in a life I didn't choose, I still tried to spend time with her.

We finished up the omelettes together and had a quiet breakfast. When we were done eating, I took my plate to the dishwasher and then gave my mother a kiss on the cheek.

"Well, I'm off to make my rounds!" I grinned, and she rolled her eyes.

"You know if your father ever found out..." she trailed off with a laugh. "Do what you must, daughter of mine."

"You know I will," I called over my shoulder, and headed out of the kitchen.

Activity was picking up by the time I returned to the main section of the mansion, and I paused to watch the commotion. Maids were working overtime sweeping and scrubbing every inch of the grand foyer, and my father's men were beginning to gather throughout the central meeting hall dressed for business. I hadn't heard word of anyone visiting that day, but everything pointed to the arrival of an important guest. I looked around until I spotted one of the men I was on a first name basis with, and waved him over. He hesitated, and then approached.

"Blaise," he greeted, and glanced around nervously.

"Arthur," I said. "What's got you so spooked?"

"You didn't hear?" he asked, and I scowled. "Right, sorry. I forget he doesn't tell you, well..."