When Diablo turned back to the mirror, he realized his words hadn’t been far from the truth. Despite his long hair and lined eyes, the lipstick didn’t make him look more feminine, but more demonic. The moment he put on the mask, the effect only intensified.

"I'm sure your rich guy will love it," a voice said from behind him. Even though Lionel was no longer visible in the mirror, Avery knew the words were his.

Although no one in the club knew about his past, the same couldn’t be said about his present. It was impossible not to notice that the customer who left the biggest tips and spent the most money devoted all his attention to just one companion. What’s more, he was always seen in the club only a few hours before disappearing into one of the rooms with Diablo, and when he returned, he stayed just one more hour before heading home.

“I don’t care about his opinion,” Avery declared, even though Lionel could no longer hear him, and the words were meant more to convince himself than anyone else.

“Going?” one of the strippers asked as he passed by, reminding Diablo that there wasn’t much time left before the crowded club’s lights would blind them.

Diablo stood and gave his appearance one last check in the mirror before moving to the clothing rack. He quickly swapped his outfit for a pair of leather pants. 

Jonah was already waiting by the door, so Diablo hurried to fall into step beside him. 

The muscular brown-haired was the one who taught Diablo the choreography whenever the companion decided to perform onstage with them, even though he didn’t strip.

Their paths diverged at the bar, where, as he did every night, Jonah decided to have a small drink to build up his courage before heading on stage and circling the pole. Meanwhile, Avery and the other companions lit candles on the tables and positioned themselves by the doors, waiting like puppies up for adoption.

The night started off strong when a larger group of men arrived, looking far too obviously like a bachelor party, and Avery swore he overheard the word “bride” somewhere in their chatter. However, they weren’t there to judge anyone, only to entertain, so he quickly found himself at their table alongside Mickey, another companion.

More and more customers began arriving, and Diablo felt a surge of excitement when he spotted one of his regulars at the door, giving him a reason to extricate himself from the situation and move on.

“Gentlemen,” he said, turning to the men whose blood-alcohol levels had clearly risen since their arrival. “I’m afraid I’ve tempted you enough. Any longer, and I’d have to drag you down to hell, and that wouldn't be nice so close to the wedding.”

His words were ironic, as Mickey was sitting on the lap of the man Avery assumed to be the groom.  

“Time to move on.”

He didn’t wait for their response or any protests. Diablo was untamable, the one who did as he pleased, and he knew he could simply stand and walk away from their table without anyone daring to punish him for it.

Luca noticed him almost immediately. The young man, who had just started his residency and could easily outsmart most of the club’s customers (some of whom Diablo didn’t even know personally but could still guess), was the same age as Avery, which was perhaps why they’d clicked so quickly when he first started coming here.

It had been a few months since they met, and although Avery still kept his true identity hidden from him, Luca didn’t seem to mind. Not when Diablo always offered him a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen. 

And tonight was no different.

They met in the middle and automatically headed for their usual table. Staying true to his role, Diablo decided to make a show of it. He sat down first and pointed at the brunet with a teasing gesture, seductively beckoning him over, even though Luca was already on his way there.

The customer sat down to his right with a soft laugh, but his smile faded almost immediately, and Avery knew exactly why. He recognized the sadness in his eyes all too well and knew precisely whom it was tied to.

"What did he say this time?" the club employee asked, getting straight to the point.

The brunet sighed, then looked as if he were about to protest — or perhaps defend — the man’s behavior, as he always found a way to justify how his colleague treated him. But then, to Diablo’s surprise, he answered honestly. "He thinks we should be more careful."

"Why?"

With the noise in the club making it hard to talk, the demonic-looking performer slid closer and leaned toward the man’s ear. From the outside, it looked far more intimate. To onlookers, it probably seemed as if Diablo was whispering something sinful to tempt Luca into selling his soul. For some reason, that made them even more drawn to him.

"He's started to worry his wife suspects something. Apparently, she thinks he’s gotten involved with a nurse," the brunet explained. Then he added, "A female nurse."

Luca’s story was simple. He had recently finished school and begun his residency at St. Aurora General Hospital. He currently worked in the acute care unit, where residents were trained by three rotating physicians. One of them, however, had caught the 26-year-old’s attention the most. Though Luca had assumed it would remain unrequited — since the much older doctor had a wife and two kids — he was wrong.

“What does that mean for you?” Although Avery didn’t want to encourage the affair, given the kind of work he did and the fact that Luca was, first and foremost, a paying customer rather than a friend, he tried to offer support instead of telling him to end it outright. He had no right to say so, yet he could never quite stop himself from hinting that maybe it wasn’t the best thing for Luca. Not just because it was hurting someone else indirectly, but also because the brunet was young and too great to waste his time as someone’s secret.

"I don't know," he replied, though his expression betrayed that he had at least some idea — and it wasn't a good one.

“Hm.” Despite his reputation, Diablo didn’t want to sound too harsh, so he thought his words through twice before saying them. "Maybe that's not such a bad thing. Patients will appreciate having a doctor who gives them more attention.” Then, he moved his hand onto Luca’s thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze, immediately drawing his attention. The brunet lifted his head, which he had let hang in quiet defeat just moments earlier. "Though I’m sure not thinking about you will be quite the challenge."

The gesture brought not only a smile to his face, but also a flush to his cheeks. After all, Luca had initially chosen him because he found him attractive, and even though they were now on friendly terms, the brunet never hid the fact that he still enjoyed admiring the companion in all his devilish glory.

“You think so?”

The worst thing about Luca’s doctor was how he kept slowly stripping away the man's confidence. He was no longer the same person Avery had met when he first came to the club, and the difference wasn't just the dark circles under his eyes or his perpetually downcast expression.

“I know so,” Diablo assured him. "Though you could definitely do better than him," he couldn't resist adding.

"You're just saying that." That was proof enough that Avery had been right about his fading confidence.

“I can assure you I’m not.” Diablo squeezed his thigh again, leaned in closer, and whispered in his ear, "I say what I want, when I want. And when someone looks like walking temptation, I have no problem admitting it."

What separated Luca from being his friend — aside from not knowing Diablo's true identity — was that Avery never flirted with his friends. He saved those skills for work. In the club, they earned him attention. In the café, they earned him tips. Whether it was a condescending smirk or a charming smile, people always paid extra for it.

His words worked. The brunet blushed harder and looked away shyly. The companion was certain that if he kept it up, he’d rebuild Luca’s self-esteem until he realized he was better off without a doctor in his fifties who was probably already balding, as Avery pictured him.

Luca stayed for another hour, but since Diablo couldn’t linger at one table too long, he eventually left halfway through and moved on to others. Not before reminding him, however, not to drown his sorrows in alcohol. Early on, when he barely knew him, he argued that alcohol ruins erections. Now, somewhere between acquaintances and friends, he’d changed his reasoning, saying no one wants a doctor whose brain is half-erased by booze. Luca protested that it didn’t work like that, but thankfully, he listened.

The rest of the night went on as usual. Diablo appeared like a visitant from hell, joining random tables, flirting, brushing off wandering hands, and — since his outfit allowed it — throwing drinks in the faces of those who went too far. The funniest part was that, every time he did it — and it happened at least once a week — the entire club cheered him on with whistles and shouts. It was amusing, but the companion never let on how much the crowd’s approval actually affected him.

"Guess who just walked in," was how Frank greeted him when Avery stopped by the bar for a drink. Knowing better than to accept drinks from guests, he came to the bar whenever he had a moment, trusting the tattooed bartender to hand him something non-alcoholic he knew was safe.

Diablo didn’t need to guess. The mere fact that Frank said it that way meant that Avery’s favorite part of the night had arrived. He automatically turned and leaned back against the bar while scanning the crowded room. His eyes locked on one spot, meeting an intense, dark gaze.

Despite being the embodiment of temptation, meant to lead men to ruin and empty their wallets, with David it was the opposite. The CEO had Diablo wrapped around his finger, and he could barely resist the pull toward him. He couldn't let that show, though. If David knew how much power he held over him, it would be the end of him.

"I’m surprised he hasn’t yet made Stanley an offer to buy the whole club just to have you for himself," Frank commented. 

Avery didn’t respond. The truth was, David had once admitted to having that very urge. However, the companion had quickly made it clear that he wouldn't appreciate it. Since then, David hadn’t suggested anything else so outrageous.

Their eyes stayed locked across the room, and even from that distance, Avery could read the CEO’s impatience. The demonic-looking performer liked to keep him waiting, knowing he wouldn’t dare leave. He finished his drink, set the empty glass on the bar without looking back, and finally stepped away.

One advantage of being Diablo was that everyone recognized his importance. He could walk anywhere, and people instinctively moved aside as if he were of a higher power. Lucifer himself, perhaps.

Avery found this amusing, especially in contrast to who he used to be — someone who might have truly been the most important person in the room once, but now it was all just a performance. A mask and a hidden identity could work wonders, but he knew that the moment his secret was exposed, all the hype around him would disappear. A fleeting sensation. Deep down, though, he hoped one person wouldn’t forget him, even though he knew that was unrealistic.

"You're here early," he said by way of greeting, tilting his head back to meet the taller man’s eyes.

"Maybe I missed you," David replied, and even over the noise of the club, Avery heard it as clearly as if it had been whispered into his ear. Yet he didn't let on how fast his heart was suddenly beating.

“What are we waiting for, then?”