Demon King (Claimed By Lucifer Book 1)

place wasn’t doing all that well before I’d left, and I owed it to my parents to keep it afloat.
Taking out my phone, I dialed her quickly. No answer. It was almost five, and she was probably closing up the shop. I sent a text instead. At least she was pretty good with texting.
I’m delayed in Vegas. Please do your best at the shop. Will be gone 7 more days.
I'd deal with the fallout when she replied. As I waited, I considered texting my sister too, but Jo was an enormous worrywart. She tended to be overbearing, and I didn't need that on top of everything else. If it had been up to Jo, I never would've left Vista. If I told her about what I'd agreed to now, she’d completely fly off the handle.
Maggie’s reply reassured me. I’m fine. Take your time. Win lots of money.
She ended it with a bunch of money bag emojis. I shook my head, wondering if she was unclear on why I was here, or just perpetually optimistic. I took a few moments to call Donna, but she didn’t answer either. Probably making Jack something to eat. I sighed and left her a message telling her I was doing everything I could to find Brandy, but I would be here for another week. I apologized profusely for being away so long, and my throat tightened with emotion as I hung up.
With all my bases covered, there was nothing else to do but wait, which I wasn’t very good at. If nothing else, I could explore my new surroundings. Surely that was allowed.
I got up and opened all the drawers in the room but they were empty. I stepped inside the giant walk-in closet and twirled around, but it was bare except for a few hangers. I moved into the massive bathroom next, my eyes going wide at the sight of all that marble and the huge shower and even bigger soaker tub. I’d never been in a bathroom this fancy before. Or this big. I was tempted to take a bath and try to wash away my worries, but I was curious about the rest of this place. If this was to be my home for the next week, I should get familiar with it, shouldn’t I?
I opened the bedroom door wide enough to peer out into the hallway, but didn’t hear a thing. Lucas was gone, off to investigate Brandy’s disappearance, or so I hoped. I walked back out across the marble floors into the living room, gazing across the black and silver space that exuded power, danger, and luxury. The place could really use a few flowers or ferns to give it some life and color. Maybe some succulents even. Something to make the space feel less cold and dead.
Then I realized I wasn’t alone after all.
A gorgeous Black woman stood in front of the entrance to the penthouse. Leather crisscrossed her body like some sort of armor, and her dark hair was scraped back so tight it drew her skin taut over the most wicked cheekbones I'd ever seen. The hilt of a blade peeked above her left shoulder. Something about her tickled my instincts, but not like the familiarity I felt around Lucas.
“I’m Zel,” she said, like she didn’t care if I remembered or not.
“Is that short for something?” I asked.
“Azazel.”
I could see why she went with Zel. “I’m Hannah.”
“I know. Lucas ordered me to protect you.”
“Protect me or prevent me from leaving?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I had no doubt she could snap me in half with a lazy bend of her pinky finger, and she didn’t sound pleased about her new job as my bodyguard.
Her dark eyes surveyed me with something like disdain. “If you leave the penthouse you need an escort at all times.”
“Why?” I tilted my head with a frown. “Is Lucas worried I’ll run away?”
“Lucas protects what is his.”
And that included me now, I realized with a shiver. “What if I leave the city?”
She pinned me with a threatening gaze. “You won’t.”
I truly was a captive. I had the illusion of freedom, but Lucas had made sure if I went anywhere, his bodyguard-slash-spy would keep tabs on me at all times and make sure I didn’t run away.
Zel didn’t seem inclined to chat, so I continued through the living room and around a corner, discovering a small, well-appointed kitchen on the other side of the bar, along with a dark dining table that seated six. I couldn’t imagine Lucas doing much cooking, although this kitchen seemed like a chef’s dream come true. I didn’t recognize the brand names of any of the appliances, which made me think they were ridiculously high-end. I opened up the stainless steel fridge out of curiosity, and was surprised to find some food inside, including an impressive selection of fancy-looking cheese. I spotted foods with labels in foreign languages, and I examined tins and jars containing things I'd never even heard of. To my relief, I spotted a container of Heinz ketchup in the door. Something I recognized. Something that proved Lucas wasn’t all pomp and circumstance.
I shut the fridge door and headed down another hallway, with the distinct sense I was going down the rabbit hole and through the mirror. Nothing in this penthouse felt at all real. Everything was spotless, like dust didn’t even dare to exist within these walls, and I’d never witnessed such luxury or wealth so prominently and unashamedly on display. I was hesitant to touch anything, for fear of breaking something. I didn’t need to add to my tab with Lucas.
At the end of this hall, I found a big set of double doors like the ones that led out of the penthouse to the elevator. I tried the handle, but each one was locked. Certainty flowed through me that these doors led to Lucas’s private chambers. I rested my hand on the smooth wood and felt an intense craving to know what