Twelve hours later

He knew he was surrounded by his enemies before he ever opened his eyes.

Years of plotting corporate takeovers had conditioned Devil Delancy to waken quickly, instantly alert and ready to do battle.  Some accused him of having some kind of hokey sixth sense that permitted him to sense when danger was nigh.  He didn’t know exactly what it was that allowed him to do it, but he was grateful.

Especially this morning.

Carefully cracking open one eyelid as he remained perfectly still on his makeshift bed, he immediately met the yellow gaze of one severely pissed-off feline perched on the back of the couch he’d commandeered last night.  He knew without looking that on the arm of the sofa yet another animal bided his time and waited for him to awaken...this one a species of the canine variety. The low growls emanating from the dog’s throat promised Devil he’d lose a couple of toes if he moved too quickly this morning.

“Coco, Chanel,” he greeted both of Molly’s beloved pets guardedly as he slowly sat up on the couch, keeping his movements small and unthreatening.  “It’s nice to see you both again.”

The cat hissed and took a swipe at his bare shoulder with his thankfully clawless paw, while the dog growled again and dove for Devil’s bare foot, latching onto his big toe and snarling.

“Son of a bitch!” Devil swore, jerking his foot back beneath the soft throw Molly had draped over the back of her sofa.  “Down, Cujo!” 

The Pekingese merely deepened his warning growls as he pawed at Devil’s now-covered feet.

“Look,” he murmured, throwing his legs to the floor as he looked between the two animals, “We’re all going to have to come up with a way to tolerate each other, because while I’d give anything to make you both into decorative throw pillows, I doubt your Mommy is going to be willing to part with either of you mongrels.”  That was assuming he could convince Molly to listen to reason this morning.  Last night, she certainly hadn’t been interested in having a sensible conversation.

Who knew that being noble and doing the right thing could get a guy into so much trouble?

Okay, maybe his laughter regarding their situation had been a mistake.  But, damn, when irony slapped a guy in the face, what else could he do but chuckle?  Crying certainly didn’t seem like the manly way to go.

And nobody could say it wasn’t ironic that the woman he’d finally fallen for after many long years of bachelorhood should be the woman that had been right beneath his nose his entire life?  Add that to the fact that said woman thoroughly believed he was a renowned philanderer when he hadn’t even been able to get an erection that she hadn’t inspired in two years ….and yeah, he’d been overcome by the hilarity of the situation and reacted accordingly.

Gingerly touching his bruised jaw, he shook his head.  He had nobody to blame but himself.  Last night had concluded in a disaster of his own making.  Given the volatile state of his desire for her, Devil knew he never should have touched her.  At least the feisty woman he’d been kissing hadn’t blackened his eye.  That would have been hell to explain.  Nope, she’d settled for nearly breaking his jaw and splitting his lip with that right hook of hers before she’d locked herself in her bedroom.

On the upside, he now knew she could defend herself if it ever became necessary.  That had been his doing, too, he supposed.  He and Grant had been the idiots that had insisted she learn a few self-defense stances in case she ever needed to protect herself.   Before she left for college six years ago, he’d taught her the art of that right cross she’d landed on him last night.  At the time he’d never imagined her inflicting those skills on him, though.

It was true; his lady could land one hell of a solid punch if she was provoked.

Expelling a long breath as he rubbed his hands over his face, he finally forced himself to rise from the surprisingly comfortable couch he’d slept on.

Both animals merely glared balefully at him, each silently judging him and his actions.  He was pretty sure that they’d heard their mistress crying last night.  God knew that he’d heard it, too.  After screaming at him to get out of her life and house and delivering a parting sucker punch that had left him seeing stars, Molly had disappeared into her bedroom, slamming and locking her door behind her.  Her sobs had kept him standing outside her bedroom door for the better part of an hour, begging her to talk to him.  Unfortunately, he’d only been answered with silence and her soft whimpers.

He felt like shit for hurting her, and Devil was pretty sure he couldn’t blame her animals for plotting his imminent demise.  They were in good company, though, since he’d given some serious thought to throwing himself off the nearest bridge last night.

“I’m not a bad guy,” he advocated for himself plaintively, holding his hands out to his sides as he faced the judgmental duo.  “I want to marry her.  I’m going to marry her.  Then, I’ll give her all the orgasms she can handle.   Hell, I’ll give her more than she can handle.  Right after I make her understand that I’m not some oversexed millionaire that gets into the panties of every woman I see.”

He could feel the animals assessing him, their dark eyes somehow managing to be both judgmental and condemning.  Both their little heads were cocked to the side and their gazes remained focused on him.   Speaking about orgasms and panties to a couple of four-legged assassins wasn’t exactly his normal method of negotiating, but a guy had to do what a guy had to do.

“I’m going to make this work for all of us.  I’m a freaking legend in the boardroom.  I can negotiate with one tiny woman and two small animals.”

The cat yowled in response.

“Look, I can promise you all the catnip you can handle, Coco.  And you,” Devil bargained with a grin, gesturing toward the pooch on the arm of the sofa, “Can you say gourmet kibble?”

Chanel’s answering snarl had Devil taking a step backward.

Looking a little desperately between the cat and dog, he hissed, “I’m in love with her, okay?  I love her!  And I know that you both love her, too.  Which means that the three of us share some common ground.  So, you can’t completely hate me. We’ve just got to work together here for the best possible optimal outcome.  You two are a substantial part of that process.   Molly values your opinion.  She’ll take her cues from those she loves the most!”  So, that meant getting all the animals in Molly’s zoo in line.

No fucking problem, right?

And the fact that he was considering contacting a pet psychic to help wasn’t at all crazy, now was it?

“C’mon, Coco,” Devil murmured, reaching out a hand to pet the cat’s head.  “Let’s be pals.”

He jerked his palm back as soon as the feline bared fang.  Sighing, he looked toward Chanel.

“What about you?” he asked the dog.  “Are you interested in being man’s best friend?”

Sniffing Devil’s hand, Chanel yapped once before jumping off the sofa and scampering to where he’d slipped off his eight hundred dollar Italian loafers the previous night.  Watching as the small canine lifted his leg over the expensive leather and peed, Devil’s jaw dropped.

“You could have just bit me!” he yelped, staring at the ruined footwear the dog left behind before he’d scampered out of the room.  Devil winced as Coco jumped from his perch and used his bare back as a springboard to land smoothly on the floor in front of the shoes, and he could have sworn the damn cat cackled.

Sighing as both animals disappeared down the hallway, he shook his head. 

The pet parlay had obviously failed, but he consoled himself with the knowledge the first-time offers were often rejected.

This war was still his to win.

He just needed to find the right artillery.