The Deal, the Dance, and the Devil by Victoria Christopher Murray

another job.
    “One last thing,” Shay-Shaunté said. “Evia, how are we coming with selecting an intern from Howard University?”
    This time, I answered her. “Fine.” But I didn’t say anything more; my attitude was still showing.
    Shay-Shaunté smirked a little, shook her head, then said to the team, “It’s a wrap. Let’s make today a great one.”
    I was the first to push back my chair. Even though I usually mingled with the others over the continental breakfast spread that Shay-Shaunté had at every meeting, I rushed out of the room like there was a fire behind me.
    At my desk, I threw down the notepad. I was still pissed, but now I was mad at myself. Why was I acting this way?
    Before I had a chance to think about it, there was a knock on my door.
    “Come on in,” I said, knowing Rachel wanted to get the scoop on why I was acting like I needed medication.
    My plan was to just give her the great excuse—PMS.
    But it wasn’t Rachel.
    I didn’t say a word when Shay-Shaunté stepped into my space, closed the door, then slinked across the room, every curve showing in her formfitting black catsuit.
    “Obviously,” she began, “there’s something we need to talk about.”
    I kinda shrugged, kinda nodded.
    She went on, “You have a problem with me; what is it?”
    Oh! She was gonna play it like that? Well then, I was gonna give it back the same way.
    I said, “You know what my problem is.”
    Her half smile was back as her arms crossed. “No, I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”
    “I don’t like the way you came at me.”
    “About what?”
    “About my husband.”
    She nodded, like she was glad I’d finally played my card; glad that I’d put the king of my heart on the table.
    She said, “I was only making a business offer. You refused. It’s over. So why are you upset?” She paused. Now her eyes were smiling, too. “Unless you and Adam plan to take me up on—”
    “No!” I shouted, not caring who heard me.
    “Then, why the attitude, Evia?”
    “Because …” I stopped and tried to think of how to finish that sentence. “Because …” I didn’t know what else to say, because really, I didn’t have a reason for all of this—except that my feelings were hurt.
    “Look,” Shay-Shaunté began. “I’m a businesswoman. I make deals. I’m used to winning a lot and losing a few. I’m never offended either way; it’s all about business. But I am sorry if I offended you.”
    Now why did she have to be all grown up and professional? I guess that’s what separated billionaires from the rest of us folk—emotions never got in their way.
    “We need to get this cleared up, Evia, because if we can’t work it out …”
    So much for the soft, professional touch. Not that I could be mad at her after the way I acted.
    It was all good, though, because I’d said what I’d had to say. But she was right, too; the offer had been made, was declined, and was now behind us.
    “It’s worked out,” I said. “I’m cool. I just needed you to know where I stood.”
    “Good. And now you know,” she pushed herself up from her chair, “where I stand.” She seemed to tower over me.
    I watched her stroll away, all grace, all slither. At the door, she turned around and winked. It was startling, shocking. And it made me think. About wolves in sheep’s clothing. Then my thoughts went deeper—to the Garden of Eden. And I asked myself, Before the fall, didn’t snakes walk upright?

Chapter 8
    I HAD THIS V IRGO THING GOING on; I was a stickler for time. But not even being a Virgo could help me beat my girl, Tamica. It was her flight attendant thing—she was always at least fifteen minutes early to everything. So when I walked into Rumors, I spotted Tamica, sitting at a booth, already sipping on something and flipping through some kind of brochure.
    Moving closer, I saw that Tamica was wearing one of her smart suits, as we called them. For the last three months, whenever my girl wasn’t thirty