The Lying, the Witch, and the Werewolf (Down & Dirty Supernatural Cleaning Services Book 4) by Kate Quinn (uplifting books for women .txt) 📗

I ask. I go over to his desk, which is a complete mess. Shuffling papers, I find his mouse and shake it to wake up his computer, which is ancient. Supes are not great with technology, and Nico refuses to upgrade his electronics until they’re completely dead. The system he has at the moment gives a half-hearted whir followed by a sharp ping from somewhere inside. It’s not a good noise, and even worse is the trail of smoke rising up from the processor.

Time to upgrade.

“I don’t have an appointment per se,” the woman admits. She stands, her six-hundred-dollar shoes clacking on the floor. I know how much those shoes cost because my housemate Darron gave me a crash course in expensive footwear when my pet Dalmanther chewed through his collection.

“Then there’s really not much I can do to help you,” I say, backing away from Nico’s desk and the smell of melting plastic.

She clutches her expensive purse. “He told me to stop by any time…”

Suddenly, I understand. I put on my own face that implies mock outrage. “You must be one of his many clients that engage in his services which fall outside of the contractual P.I. agreement.”

And by that I mean, he also fucks the women who are pissed that their husbands are cheating on them. It’s not a bad deal for Nico. He catches the husband, consoles the wife, and then cashes the check.

She glares daggers at me, but doesn’t exactly turn tail and leave. Nico’s dick must be even more magical than I thought.

“Shall I remove you from his client list?” I ask, reaching toward the keyboard. It’s a pure bluff, which she must know. There’s a burning smell coming from the computer, but even the implication that she might not see Nico again sends her into a well-manicured flutter of hands.

“Of course not, simply let him know that I am no longer interested in coming at—” With a fake cough she quickly corrects herself. “Coming to his place of business. I want you to tell him that we will only meet at my home from now on.”

She apparently didn’t get the message that I don’t work for Nico, and I’m about to correct her again when she adds, “And you’re not invited!”

“Oh, I’m usually not,” I assure her. “Nico likes to stick to one-on-one or all out group sex. Nothing in between. He says a ménage à trois is only for bored people without the creativity for a full-blown orgy.”

“I...well…I…” I don’t know if I’ve flustered her or if she’s seriously considering the orgy offer, but she backs out the door in something of a panic, so I assume the first.

I lick my finger and draw an imaginary point in the air. “Paige Harper, 1. Rich bitches, 0.”

I turn to Nico’s workspace and shake my head. No matter how often I offer to clean it up, he refuses. Still, I can’t resist at least shuffling the papers into a neat pile away from his computer where they’re least likely to catch on fire. As I stack the smaller items on top, I notice the rental bill from the office management company. I should pay it without him knowing. I have some extra cash. He does that kind of thing to me all the time, an aggressively nice action that puts me in his debt.

I look at the bill and almost drop it; rent here is not what he told me it was. It’s five times more. I thought I was paying him half, but I’m barely paying him a tenth. I put the bill down and back away.

I know it’s nice of him to keep the truth from me and pay for a larger share of our office. But I also know it’s manipulative and underhanded. Nico isn’t my husband. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s not even a friend, really. But I can’t seem to get him out of my life.

Maybe I should just set up something at home. It’s not as professional, but most clients call or book online. I’d have to do it somewhat quietly, because I don’t think running a business out of your home is allowed in my neighborhood. Plus there’s my housemates. Shauna is a bit less obnoxious since getting clean, but she’s still got a big personality and no personal boundaries. Darron, who sometimes goes by Daphne, is a free-spirited Drag Queen. And then there’s my Dalmanther named Shit who has the cuteness of a puppy and the bloodlust of a panther. Plus there’s the occasional “gifts” that VSK leaves for me—dead cats, dead vamps, humans-turned-vamp.

Sigh. No way I can make it with a home office. Clients will be running down the street trying to get away.

I go to my own—perfectly pristine—desk to get some paperwork done. I’m pleased to find that the invoice for the vampire baby cleaning job has already been submitted, and paid. Hepa—a witch with a rare specialty in tech—revamped my whole site after I saved her from a super messed up situation at a raunchy sex club. Now invoices automatically send after I complete a job. If the client doesn’t pay after three days a reminder is sent. If they still haven’t paid after a week, Hepa hexes them so that they can’t spend any money at all until they pay me first.

I sit back in my chair. I have definitely changed over the last year. If you told me six months ago my invoicing system would be magic-based, I’d have laughed my ass off. But here we are.

The bell above the door dings and Nico Tralano walks into the room carrying a bundle of mail. It’s hard not to watch him. He’s two hundred pounds of muscle and angst. He lost one of his eyes when he was a teenager—a bad break-up, as he tells it. The eyepatch just makes him look like a sexy urban pirate. If he weren’t so insufferable I’d hoist his mainsail and…

“Paige,” he nods to me. I close