Page 27 of The Pursuit of Happiness (Satan’s Angels #2)

Aria

I carefully swipe the mascara wand over my bottom lashes and try my best not to make that stupid ass face I can’t help but make while applying mascara.

It’s like a weird fusion between the face you make when you really have to go to the bathroom and a face you’d make if you saw a ghost. Horrible combination.

I’ve seen him a few times since we started texting, but only to work on the new album.

We haven’t had much time to interact alone and part of me is appreciative of that considering I haven’t had the chance to act on impulse and give in to his flirtation, but the other part is disappointed.

It’s a thirty to seventy ratio, seventy for the part that’s disappointed. Fuck it, fifteen to eighty-five.

We’ve texted here and there too. Nothing of major significance, just small questions and answers at random times a day.

Sometimes I’ll ask them and sometime’s Sly asks them.

It’s kind of become our thing. At a random time of day, I’ll text him something like Question, what was your favorite snack food as a kid?

He’ll then answer the question and maybe an hour or two or however long later, he’ll text me something like, Question, what is your strangest irrational fear?

The answer to that question folks, is the sound a tattoo gun makes while it’s tattooing your skin.

Foolish, I know, coming from someone who has tattoos all over.

I can’t help it, okay? The sound just freaks me out!

I like this game we play. I also like learning things about Sly.

For example, I’ve learned that he actively donates to animal shelters and hospitals, he loves chicken alfredo, he’s a libra, his favorite color is black, and his favorite ice cream flavor is rocky road.

I’ve learned more too and I enjoy learning more and more about the man that can’t seem to find his way out of my thoughts.

In a way my relationship with Sly has gone from awkward business associates who were forced on each other to friends.

I hear my phone vibrate from where it rests on the counter in front of me.

I check to see Sly texted that he’s outside my house waiting for me.

I text him that I’m on my way downstairs and hurry out of the bathroom, swiping my purse off my dresser before I go.

I rush down the stairs and open the door to find Sly on my doorstep waiting for me.

He wears ripped jeans and a white t-shirt, effortless yet so hot.

I want to rip his clothes off the minute I catch sight of him and that perfect smile of his but I force myself under control.

“Hey,” he greets. “You look amazing.” His eyes light up to display the generosity of his words, something I’ve noticed he does.

I smile and blush, “Hi.”

He nods towards the limo, “You ready?”

I nod, about to take a step outside when I remember that I forgot to fill Kiko and Taz’s bowls. I gasp, “Wait! I almost forgot to feed the cats!” I turn on my heel and duck back into the house, hurrying towards the kitchen.

“Cats?” He asks. I guess he didn’t know I had pets.

I shout over my shoulder, already half way through the foyer, “Yeah, come in. I won’t take long.”

I hear the sound of the door closing by the time I’m already in the kitchen.

I open the cabinet that I’ve designated to the freeloaders that live under my roof (Kiko and Taz) and make quick work of filling their food bowls.

I make sure to add a little extra to Taz’s bowl because this morning I accidentally destroyed his favorite toy.

It wasn’t my fault! I was vacuuming and it got stuck in the vacuum.

I had no choice but to throw it out after it was ruined.

Taz watched the whole thing, clearly not impressed.

So yes, I will be filling his bowl up a little extra.

Sue me for wanting to buy my cat’s forgiveness with food.

I hear footsteps getting closer to the kitchen and Sly peeks inside, “Your house is insane.”

I give him a curious look over my shoulder, “What do you mean?”

“I mean I feel like I’m in a gothic murder mystery house or something.

It’s sick,” he says with awe in his voice.

People get a little freaked out by the exterior of my house, so you can only imagine how they feel about the inside.

I don’t know why it pleases me so much to know that he likes my house, but it does.

I grin, “Thank you. That’s the exact vibe I wanted.”

He returns the smile as he watches me finish filling up the bowls. “You have cats?”

I nod, “Two. Kiko and Taz.” He looks around the room in search of them so I add, “They don’t really come out when new people come over. They can be kind of shy, especially Kiko.”

As if on cue, Taz enters the room, his tail pointed straight up. I widen my eyes in shock. Usually he hides and doesn’t come out when new people come over. I watch in clear shock as he walks all the way over to Sly and starts rubbing his face all over Sly’s jeans. My jaw drops, “Holy shit.”

Sly gives me an arrogant look, “Don’t act so surprised, Kane. People, kids, dogs, cats, baby birds, they all love me.”

I watch as he bends down and starts petting Taz.

I swoon at how gentle and kind he is with my beloved pet but also at how Taz doesn’t run away.

Another small figure enters the room and now I’m convinced my eyes are playing games with me.

Kiko took months to come out when Brody and Ivory came over.

She took even longer to warm up to them.

My jaw drops as my tortoise shell cat walks right up to Sly hesitantly and bows her head for him to pet her too.

He scratches behind both of their ears and I ask myself if I’ve taken any drugs because this can’t be real. I remind myself I haven’t taken drugs since I was drugged the night the sex tape was filmed and then I find that the shock hits ten times harder. I almost see stars when Kiko starts purring.

Sly looks up at me from where he squats on the ground with the cats and smiles at the expression on my face. “I thought you said they don’t like to come out.”

“They don’t,” I whisper, awe in my voice.

He winks at me, “I just got that effect.”

I shake my head in complete disbelief.

He looks back at the cats, “Which one is which?”

“Taz is the orange one and Kiko is the tortoise shell.”

He nods and laughs to himself, “I didn’t peg you for a cat mom.”

“I like to consider myself more of a butler. Taz sure likes to treat me like his own personal one,” I spit the last sentence as I give Taz a death glare.

He returns it, giving me a look of complete distaste.

I know he’s still mad about the toy. I add a few extra pieces of kibble to his bowl immediately, the guilt taking over.

Sly raises a brow at me, “I’ve never had a cat but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to feed them that much.”

I frown, “I’m guilt feeding.”

“Oh?”

I wince, “I accidentally destroyed his favorite toy and I feel bad so I’m compensating by feeding him extra.”

Sly laughs, “Extra would be giving him half a scoop more. You just gave him about three extra scoops.”

I stare at the bowl and frown. I suppose Sly is right. I take a scoop out of his bowl and put it back in the bag of food before setting the bowls back down on the floor where they belong. I double check to make sure the water bowls are filled and when they are I nod to myself.

Taz and Kiko abandon Sly as soon as they spot the newly filled bowls and scurry over to stuff their furry faces. “Traitors,” he mutters as he rises back to his full height.

I laugh, “Don’t worry. They might like you more than they like me. They never warm up to people that quickly. Especially Kiko,” I say the last part with pure disbelief in my voice.

The smile that takes over his face is so big it has my heart racing with admiration and something else I’d rather keep pushed down for now. I remind myself we have somewhere to be, “You ready to go clubbing, cat whisperer?”

––––––––

“VODKA CRANBERRY OR STRAIGHT shot?” Sly asks in my ear, his voice loud despite the blaring club music.

I grin at his memory. Of course he’d remember what I was drinking the night we met, just not the more infamous parts of that night. “Vodka cran, please,” I answer.

He squeezes my thigh before rising from his seat beside me on the vinyl couch in yet another VIP section of a club.

“Be right back.” He weaves through the sea of bodies and vanishes from view on his way to the bar.

He could’ve waited for the waitress to come over, but for some reason he wanted to get me my drink immediately.

I can’t say I blame him. The club is not in high spirits today.

For starters, the rave music is European and no hate against European music, but it isn’t getting the people going. The clubbers look bored and aloof.

What’s worse is that we’re stuck yet again with Rogan.

I don’t mind Miles and Nate at all but Rogan…

huge pain in the ass though he has been on better behavior tonight.

By better behavior, I mean he hasn’t so much as looked at me more than twice.

I want to ask Sly when we leave if he said something to Rogan or if something happened to make him back off.

For now though, I’m definitely not complaining.

Nate and Miles include me in conversation, but I’m still bored, missing Brody and Ivory’s presence.

They both were set in not wanting to come tonight considering how it went last time and I can’t blame them.

Besides, Ivory would be throwing a hissy fit if she were here and the club was not clubbing.

Sly returns a moment later with a pouty lip and a bored expression. He hands me the drink he got me and sits down beside me once more, his thigh pressing against mine. I accept the drink and immediately take a sip, needing the burn of the alcohol to lull me out of this boredom.