THE DEVIL'S MISTRESS
she said, slipping them into my palm.
I let out a small laugh. “Both of them?”
She nodded, told me to pick one—time was short, something like that.
I chose the smaller box, flipped the lid, and froze. A lighter. Sleek, silver, clean design. New model. But what shook me was the engraving—R & N.
I couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at my lips. But then again, it burned in a strange way too.
I kept pressing her about the lighter, and she looked ready to strangle me for it. Then a knock saved us both. An attendant bowed in the doorway.
Bab Populer