Angelo's POV

Later that evening, Angelo discovered Lucifer had kept his word.

Not only was he upgraded to a spacious new bedroom with windows, a desk, and a large flat-screen TV, but he now had access to an attached balcony.

The cherry on top was that he had gotten his electronics back. But he wasn't naïve enough to believe Lucifer would let him have his devices back without some kind of catch. There was no way they hadn't been tampered with and bugged to track his activity online.

Better to play it safe, so he couldn't risk reaching out to Maxxx and Phil. Not until he got his hands on a burner phone.

Angelo burned a few more calories by getting his new space set up to his liking. He was surprised when he saw an array of new clothes in the closet and dresser, all in his size and style. The only downside of this upgrade was the location. His new room was still on Lucifer's floor; close enough for the man to keep an eye on Angelo at all times.

When Angelo had finished and stripped down to his underwear to shower, the bedroom door burst open.

"What the hell? I know I locked that!" Angelo exclaimed.

"That lock doesn't actually work," Lucifer chuckled. "It's just for show."

Of course it was. Heaven forbid Angelo to have even an illusion of privacy.

"Can I help you with something?" He struggled to keep his expression neutral as Lucifer's eyes lingered on his exposed skin.

"As a matter of fact, you can." Lucifer sauntered into the room like he owned it. Which, Angelo supposed, he did. "I need dirt on Quinton Simpson, the new Chief of Police. Consider this your first assignment."

Angelo's brows shot up. "I can do it."

This was the work he'd been waiting for. Something that would prove his skills and keep Lucifer off his back.

"Shower first." Lucifer moved to sit on the edge of the bed, making himself right at home as he grabbed the TV remote. "I can wait."

"In here?" Angelo gaped at him. "Seriously?"

"I'm not in the mood for your bullshit," Lucifer's voice hardened, all traces of playfulness vanishing. "Go shower before I get rid of your ass and have someone else do the job."

Gritting his teeth, Angelo snatched a change of clothes from the dresser and stomped into the bathroom. The sound of the shower drowned out his muttered curses, but did little to calm the furious pounding of his heart.

When he emerged twenty minutes later, clean and dressed, Lucifer was still sprawled on his bed, flipping absently through the TV channels.

"Ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be." Angelo settled himself at his new desk and booted up his rig. "What's the guy's name again?"

"Quinton Simpson," Lucifer supplied, rising from the bed to peer over Angelo's shoulder. "He's 58. Caucasian. Single, never married. Lives at 613 Eldridge Road, zip code 27715."

"Sounds like you already got the basics."

"Yeah, but I need information Google can't give me." Lucifer braced a hand on the back of Angelo's chair, close enough that his scent threatened to become a distraction. "That's where you come in."

Angelo's fingers flew over the keys, his focus narrowing to the streams of data scrolling across his screen.

Normally, he could lose himself in the work, but Lucifer's presence at his back made it impossible to fully relax. He couldn't ignore the heat of his body, the soft puff of his breath. It took every ounce of Angelo's concentration not to squirm in his seat.

"You bake, right?" he blurted, desperate for a different type of distraction.

"What?" Lucifer blinked, clearly taken aback.

"Back at the diner, you said you were more of a baker than a cook."

"Oh. That."

"Tell me more."

"You genuinely want to know more about me?" Lucifer questioned. "What happened to us not playing Dr. Phil, smartass?"

Angelo rolled his eyes. "Right. Forget I asked."

"My stepmother taught me everything I know," he said quietly. "It's what brought us together after my father first introduced us after they'd started dating. It went on to become our special thing. It's a calming hobby, but I don't have the time to do it as much these days."

Angelo paused and looked back at him. "Thanks for sharing that with me."

"Don't get used to it, angel." Lucifer playfully flicked his forehead. "Back to work."

Angelo nodded and the search continued. Half an hour flew by, then finally, a ping went off. They had a hit. Angelo and Lucifer scanned the results to find a mountain of financial records littered with large cash withdrawals, always before visits to nearby casinos.

There were also pawn shop receipts for personal items like military medals and artwork. Buried even deeper in Quinton Simpson's emails was an exchange about appointment times with Zayn Malloy—owner of Midnxght Lux, an underground BDSM club.

"Well, well." Lucifer grinned like he'd hit the jackpot. "So Quinton is a kinkster with a gambling problem."

"Looks like it. Do you think the mayor knew about this before he decided to make him Andy's replacement?" Angelo asked.

"I doubt it. No one wants an addict on their team. Especially not when the mayor is trying to look all squeaky clean for the voters."

"How do you plan on using this to your advantage?"

"It's simple. I'll present Quinton with a choice. He'll either agree to become my new mole in the police department, or I'll ruin his image and reputation by outing him as a gambling, BDSM-loving deviant."

"That, uh, sounds a lot more difficult than you're making it seem." Angelo swiveled slightly in his chair, meeting Lucifer's gaze. "What's your backup plan?"

"I don't need one."

"You sure about that?"

"The fucker will either do as I say, or he'll end up like his predecessor."

"Look, I don't mean to overstep, but my life is in your hands now. If you go down, I go down," Angelo said. "I think if you continue to kill off the mayor's people, it's only going to make things worse for you and the club."

Lucifer's face hardened. He straightened abruptly, putting space between them. "Then I guess it's a good thing I don't keep you around to think for me."

Turning on his heel, Lucifer marched toward the door, his shoulders rigid.

"By the way, I have cameras all over this place. If you try to sneak off the property, I'll know immediately."

"Wasn't planning on trying," Angelo muttered, getting in the last word before the door slammed shut. "Dickhead."

Angelo slumped back in his chair with the reminder that he was nothing more than a useful prisoner here.

Hopefully, he won't be that for much longer.