“Those boundaries were only for the office, Papi. Here is fair game, yes? We are familia.” Mannie corrected, gesturing around the elegant living room as his espresso-colored eyes twinkled merrily.
“Think again, amigo,” Devil retorted, glaring at Armando.
“Unless you want Devil to beat you like a piñata, I suggest you hush, Mannie,” Vivian warned softly, ever the diplomat as she elbowed her Hispanic friend in the ribs before he could say something else to get him in trouble.
“Devil,” Molly admonished, her jade eyes narrowing in irritation as she looked up at her husband, “You are not being a very good host to our guests.”
“Yeah, Devil,” Samantha sneered, always eager to egg him on, “I’m beginning to feel rather unwelcome in your lovely home. Sometimes, I get the feeling that you just don’t like having us around at all, sugar,” the beautiful blonde model continued to goad, crossing one leg over the other as she reclined in the Queen Anne chair in the corner.
“Oh, was I being too subtle for you, She-beast?” Devil replied silkily. “Allow me to remedy that situation. Get. Out. All of you.”
“Devil!” Molly gasped, bolting to her feet. “Forty years old or not, Nana would blister your backside still if she had heard that! You are being unforgivably rude. Be nice and apologize,” she demanded, propping one hand on her hip.
Samantha’s lips curled in amusement as she watched Molly berate her husband. “Oh, Molly, honey, I don’t think your husband knows any other way to be. It just comes naturally to him,” she remarked sweetly.
“Only with you, Samantha. Only with you,” Devil drawled, wondering not for the first time how the caustic model and his Molly could be such good friends. Vivian, he could understand. Hell, he enjoyed Viv’s company. Gentle and smart, Viv had just made partner at her law firm, and he was debating bringing Delancy Industries business to her. He knew his account wouldn’t be safer anywhere else and there were definite benefits to keeping his business in the family.
“Can’t you two ever get along?” Molly huffed, looking from her husband to her blonde friend.
“Nope,” they both replied in unison, both unapologetic.
“At least they’re honest,” Armando chuckled, winking at Molly. “I think su hombre wants a little face time with you, chica. We should get going anyway. If Devil is home, then Nick can’t be far behind. He and I still need to come to some kind of compromise over our wedding tuxes.”
“He’s still not going for the idea of a red velvet suit, huh?” Vivian asked, standing from the couch and smoothing the wrinkles from her stylish grey skirt.
“No,” Mannie pouted, sighing heavily as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. “He still insists we go with classic black Armani. Really, he’s such a conformist. It’s disgusting,” he declared with a grimace as he straightened his teal suit jacket.
“Yeah, he’s a real bastard,” Devil agreed quickly, shooing his executive assistant toward the door. “I’d go home and fight it out with him.”
“Devil!” Molly hissed through her teeth, blowing at a strand of auburn hair that had escaped her ponytail. Pushing up the sleeves of her grey Emory University sweatshirt, she heaved out a frustrated breath before refocusing her attention on the groom. “Manny, don’t let Devil chase you off. We could still work on some details to the ceremony if you want.”
“No, Devil is right,” Vivian interceded quickly before Armando could change his mind or Samantha could poke the bear again. She could tell by the slightly homicidal glint in the man’s eye that he was nearing the end of his rope. “It’s getting late and I have an early court appointment tomorrow.”
Rising, Samantha’s chin lifted as she straightened the seams of her red silk dress. “You’re very lucky that Viv is my ride tonight,” she informed Devil with a toothy smile. “Otherwise, I’d make sure you were stuck entertaining me all night, Dev.”
“I’ll be certain to get on my knees tonight and give thanks to the Almighty,” Devil replied evenly with a slight inclination of his head, silently giving Vivian credit for being able to manage this motley crew of misfits.
“Damn it, Devil,” Molly began to complain, offering her husband a look that promised a reprisal. “Do you have any idea how much work we still have to do?”
“Don’t worry about it, darlin’,” Samantha soothed, patting Molly’s arm as she passed her on her way to the door, “We all know that bein’ an asshole will be your husband’s legacy to mankind.”