Lucifer's POV

Lucifer scowled at the balance sheet, his grip on the mouse tightening as the cursor bounced around the computer screen. 

The numbers continued to be a disappointment. Profits were down twelve percent for the second month in a row, courtesy of the mayor tightening the screws on all his puppets in the police force.

Lucifer hadn't been able to make any big moves, like gun trafficking, because he'd already pushed things too far by leaking Quinton's dirty secrets to the public. It's only a matter of time before the mayor finds out who's responsible, and God only knows how he'd retaliate. 

Lying low seemed like the only option left, but with the club's other revenue streams drying up, they were bleeding money fast. Something had to give.

And Lucifer wasn't the only one who felt that way.

"Lou!" The office door flew open with a force that spoke of Jameson's mood. "What's the point of having me as your VP if you never run a damn thing by me?"

Lucifer rolled his eyes and leaned back in his leather chair. "I take it you're upset about the Quinton thing?"

"Upset?" Jameson's voice rose as he advanced toward the desk. "What the fuck do you think, man? You're basically begging for Sheppard to wipe us out!"

"The mayor will come after us regardless of what I do and who I kill." Keeping his voice level, Lucifer stood to meet Jameson's glare head-on. "I don't get why you're so pissed. Would you rather I sit on my hands and do nothing while he paints a fucking smear campaign against us?"

"I'd rather you get back to running this club the way you used to when you first took over," Jameson snapped. "And stop acting like you're the only one with your future on the line here. What do you think your father would say if he—"

"Enough!"

Lucifer slammed his palms on the desk, rage igniting inside him. The quickest way to set him off was to mention his parents, especially his old man, in a way that would be used against him. Jameson knew better.

"Mention my father again and your next breath will be your last," he snarled through gritted teeth. 

"You really disappoint me, Lucifer." Jameson shook his head on the way out, slamming the door behind him.

A string of curses ripped from Lucifer's throat. He grabbed the stapler off his desk and hurled it at the door. The keyboard was about to be next until he heard it. The ghostly whisper of his stepmother's voice.

"You're wasting energy being upset, love. Spend it on something else instead."

In his wild and reckless teenage years, that was her favorite saying whenever Lucifer lost control of himself. And it was in these dark, solitary moments when the absence of his parents weighed the heaviest on him.

He hadn't asked for this life, one of constant danger and crime. He was born into it. The club was the last thing Lucifer had left of his father. And despite all the hardships that came with keeping it afloat, he refused to let it die a slow death. He refused to see it brought to its knees by bullshit politics and crooked cops.

Failure was not a word written in Lucifer's destiny. He'd win the war against that shady ass mayor, or he'd go out in a blaze of glory trying.

Lucifer's phone chimed with a news alert, snapping him back to the present.

He snatched it up and opened the article, which was about Quinton's past scandals making a grand comeback. The report stated that Mayor Sheppard planned to make a public statement first thing in the morning, and sources implied Quinton would likely hand in his resignation.

A smirk tugged at Lucifer's lips. This is exactly what he needed to happen.

After Quinton gets the boot, Lucifer will have a 50/50 chance of getting his hands on Quinton's replacement. The mayor will probably already have them under his control, but Lucifer isn't going to let that stop him.

Right now, however, he needed fuel if he wanted to continue brainstorming ways of bringing money back into the club.

Lucifer exited his office and made his way toward the kitchen. Music and muffled conversations drifted up from the main floor of the clubhouse, but he paid it no mind. He had more pressing matters to attend to, like the violent rumbling in his stomach.

As he stepped into the kitchen, he found Angelo sitting alone at the table eating a bowl of cereal, the spoon pausing midair when they locked eyes. Lucifer's pulse jumped, an involuntary reaction he chose to ignore as he opened the refrigerator.

"I see you're finally making yourself at home," he said.

"Not like I ever had much of a choice," Angelo replied.

Lucifer chuckled, amused.

Truth be told, he enjoyed Angelo's sharp tongue. Though he'd never admit it out loud, Angelo was the only one he allowed to talk back to him like that. Still didn't understand why.

"About earlier," Lucifer said, "I know you were just trying to help. But the thing is, I've gone so long without it that I don't really know how to accept it anymore."

"I get it," Angelo replied. "But the offer still stands."

Lucifer smiled. "Thanks, but I'd rather you play doctor for me in a different way."

Turning his attention back to the contents of the refrigerator, Lucifer gathered the supplies to make a turkey sandwich. As he assembled his meal, his mind drifted back to the day when he and Angelo met. His enemies grew bolder as of late, and he couldn't help but wonder about Angelo's mysterious client who wanted dirt on the club.

"Hey, have you heard anything more from that client of yours?" Lucifer asked, taking a seat. "The one who wanted you to get dirt on my club. Phil...something."

"Phil123 was his username." Angelo shifted in his seat, and Lucifer couldn't decipher if it was guilt or nervousness that flickered across his delicate features.

"Right. Whatever. Has he tried to contact you again?"

"No. I don't even get on my computer unless I'm doing a job for you. My business is closed indefinitely."

Lucifer wanted to believe him, but trust was a luxury he couldn't afford, especially with someone he barely knew. But even if Angelo was still in contact with Phil, there wasn't much he could leak about the club.

Lucifer's father had been old-school and hadn't fucked with any of that digital shit. The club's most important records were locked up in a safe on another property. Only Lucifer knew the code.

Still, he couldn't resist delivering a thinly veiled threat.

"If I find out that you've been lying to me, it won't end well for you, Angelo."

"I'm very aware of the situation I'm in. You don't have to keep threatening me." Angelo stood to wash his bowl in the sink, completely ignoring the dishwasher.

Before Lucifer could respond, Jameson entered the kitchen, looking less furious than he had been earlier.

"The package just arrived at the club. I'm headed out to pick it up," he said.

Taking another bite of his sandwich, Lucifer considered his options. He could use a distraction right now, something to take his mind off the clusterfuck that was his life.

"Don't worry about it. I'll go," Lucifer said. "I could use some fresh air."

"Can I come, too?" Angelo perked up, moving to stand by Lucifer. "Please?"

Jameson's expression twisted disdainfully before he walked out of the kitchen, leaving the question hanging between the remaining two men.

"I bet you've never been to a nightclub in your life," Lucifer teased. "We have strippers there, too. And after midnight, some of them dance nude on stage. Think you can handle tits and cocks swinging around?"

"Yes." Angelo glowered, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "I know how to have fun...in my own way."

"Oh, please share with the class how you do that. By learning new code or some shit?" Lucifer laughed.

"You're such a prick," Angelo muttered, but there was no real heat behind his words. "Can I come or not?"

Feeling a twinge of remorse for teasing him, Lucifer said, "You have ten minutes to meet me outside."

Angelo's face lit up with a smile, and he scrambled out of the kitchen quickly as if Lucifer had given him his freedom back. The boy was too cute and endearing for his own good. Lucifer wanted Angelo in ways he shouldn't, and he hated himself for it.

Too much was on the line. Too much where he couldn't afford to get used to Angelo's presence. He couldn't afford to get soft. Then again, would it really be such a crime to seduce and fuck Angelo out of his system?

Regardless, reality would come knocking again, demanding its due. And whether or not Angelo was by his side, Lucifer would have no choice but to answer.