My stomach churned. It was time for this to turn from ‘this is a real, proper date’ to ‘Welcome to FiendPay. This is your second repayment. You are going to hate it, as is the point of the process’.

Alessio gestured, and his staff rolled in the trolley.

“And there it is,” Jemma muttered and drained her wine, her eyes gone icy. “The catch.”

23. My Biggest Weakness. My Worst Enemy

Chapter 23

My Biggest Weakness. My Worst Enemy

Jemma

I was such an idiot.

I’d let myself get carried away with these funny feelings I was having for him. I’d almost forgotten that I was on a mission to seduce him tonight. He was being so nice, and asking me about my past, and acting as if he cared about my future … I’d forgotten this was war and not an actual date with a human man who I was wildly attracted to.

And here was the reality check, come to smack me right in the face.

He’d really stepped up his torture game. This was underhanded and mean, and … it was so strange, because a little voice in the back of my head kept insisting that this was out of character for him.

Pfft! He was the Son of Satan. Set to be the next Head Honcho of Hell. This was child’s play for him, most likely. And I was about to get a very uncomfortable reminder of that.

The trolley rolled over to the table, and I could already feel my stomach cramping. This was not the standard antipasti of a five-course Italian feast. There were no plates of cheese and meat and olives and all the other delicious things that were safe for me to eat.

Oh, those items were all there. Melted onto big, thick slabs of crusty white bread. Scrumptious white bread. Glutinous white bread. My biggest weakness. My worst enemy.

Alessio placed a plate with three large, bready slices in front of me, and then another in front of SJ.

“Buon appetito! I’ll return with your second course in a little while.”

When the door closed behind the man, I narrowed my eyes at the big, beastly … gallingly beautiful blond across the table.

“Let me guess.” I lifted one of the melts, eyeing him over the top of it. “In order to win tonight, I need to get through this entire meal. Eat everything on my plate. Am I right?”

He didn’t respond, his eyes dropping to his own plate.

“Am I right, Satan Junior?” My voice was sharp, and he lifted his face to mine. He smirked, but it seemed pasted on. His eyes were the opposite of smiling. He looked like he was in pain.

Good! Because by the end of the night, I was going to be in pain, too. So much pain. I stifled a wince at the thought of it.