Page 24 of His Little Angel
Chapter Eleven
Mila
That evening, I’m in my ugliest pajamas. Netflix plays a show I’ve already rewatched twelve times, steam curls off the mug in my hands, and my phone is turned off because Enzo won’t stop blowing it up.
He’s my soon-to-be ex-boss, and he doesn’t have the right to call me after work hours. Whatever demon climbed into his spine today isn’t my problem. I’m not his keeper. I’m not his emotional punching bag. I’m done being the idiot who tries to decode his moods.
Veronica—poor thing—will probably get stuck in the fallout tomorrow. She deserves a raise just for surviving the man. He wasn’t this unhinged when I used to work for him.
My craving for sugar starts to gnaw at me. Unfortunately, the version of me who shops for groceries is a smug, health-conscious witch, and she buys things like oat crackers and probiotic yogurts.
Useless.
I bite the inside of my cheek, weighing my options. I try to pretend I can resist… but I’m not that strong. With a groan, I pause my show, slide into outdoor slippers, and step into the hallway. My building is far too elegant for me to be seen like this.
I pray the elevator is empty.
And by some miracle, it is.
God gives his hardest battles to his prettiest soldiers.
Outside, the night air chills me instantly. I tug my sweater closer, stuffing my hands into the sleeves. Autumn is creeping in—my favorite season. Everything dies beautifully.
I cross the street to the supermarket, keys jingling in my hand. I roam the aisles, scanning shelves for my favorite chocolates, squinting because I was too lazy to bring my glasses.
I take this search personally. This is a quest.
I’m so focused on the blurry labels that I slam into a hard chest.
I jerk back. “Sorry. Didn’t see you.”
When my eyes finally decide to cooperate, I realize it’s Luke from the bar.
He looks amused. “Mila?”
“Oh my God. Hi. Sorry—I didn’t see you there. I’m blind right now. Forgot my glasses.”
He glances down at my pajamas, then grins. “Late-night mission?”
I lift my basket of snacks. “You?”
“I live nearby,” he says. “I come here when I can’t sleep.”
I nod. This is a nice coincidence. Luke isn’t bad to have around—he’s fun, easygoing, and I don’t exactly have a long list of friends.
He nods toward the shelf behind me. “Anything good left?”
“Depends on your standards,” I say. “Mine are on the floor tonight.”
“Want help? I’ve memorized half this place.”
“Sure.”
“What are we hunting?”
“Dark chocolate. The one with the gold wrapper. People hoard it.”
He spots it instantly, tucked behind another brand. I’ll always envy people with good vision. He hands me two. “Just in case someone raids the shelf tomorrow.”