Dark Prince (Chosen by Lucifer #1) Read Online Callie Rose

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: Chosen by Lucifer Series by Callie Rose

Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 98780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)

My new billionaire boss is hot as sin. He also happens to be the devil himself.
And there’s only one thing he wants…
I never meant to get caught stealing a priceless artifact from Lucas Hale, Los Angeles’s most notorious playboy billionaire. And I definitely never expected him to offer me a job as a way to pay off my debt.
But if it keeps me out of jail, I can play the role of assistant to this cocky, gorgeous man. It can’t be that hard, right?
Even if the chemistry between us is so intense that just being in the same room with him makes my blood heat.
Even if I accidentally walk in on him “taking care of himself” during my first week in the office… and I swear I hear him groan my name.
Even if I don’t quite understand how he moves so fast when he saves me from a psycho who tries to attack me on the street.
On second thought, maybe I’m in over my head with this new job. Because I’m starting to get the feeling there’s a lot more to Lucas Hale than meets the eye. A darker, more dangerous side of him than anyone knows.
And the most terrifying part?
That’s the side of him that tempts me.


Chapter 1


People from out of town always assume that since I was born and raised in Los Angeles, my life must be full of the kind of glamour they see in magazines and on TV.

They’re wrong.

Waiting tables is the same anywhere you go. The only difference is that the customers at Rinata, the upscale restaurant where I work, are probably a bit more entitled than the average diner from Arkansas.

The man in front of me was a character actor once. I vaguely recognize him from some movie or other, but I couldn’t tell you his name. I feel like he played an irredeemable asshole in some sort of rom-com, but maybe that’s just because he’s acting like an irredeemable asshole right now.

He rolls his eyes in a furious arc, his steel gray eyebrows bristling. “The soup was cold! How idiotic do you have to be to serve someone like me a hot dish stone fucking cold? Do you know who I am? I could ruin this whole restaurant just like that.”

He snaps his thick fingers, a scowl twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“I do apologize that the gazpacho wasn’t to your liking, sir. I can go ahead and take that off your bill. Is there anything else I can do for you?” I smile sweetly, pretending he’s the most pleasant customer in the world and not an idiot who doesn’t know what gazpacho is.

“You can get me some real goddamn soup is what you can do,” he says with a huff, looking slightly mollified by my apologetic act. “Unbelievable.”

“Right away, sir.”

I give him a quick nod before escaping to the kitchen. No matter how much of an asshole he is, I’m not going to let them him my day. I’ve dealt with worse guys than him, as sad as that is.

Ronnie, the cook, looks up at me with a grin as I lean against the wall and blow out a disbelieving sigh, hugging my serving tray to my chest.

“Rough night, huh?” he calls over, his tone empathetic and mildly amused.

“Eh, about usual. Table seven has requested replacement soup. His gazpacho was cold, and soup is apparently meant to be served hot. Why didn’t we know that?” I reply sarcastically.

Ronnie blinks at me slowly, then throws his head back and laughs. “There’s always one,” he says, still chuckling. “All right, girlie, I’ll get you your hotpacho.”

I grin at his amusement, then take the next order out into the dining room. Table nine, a four-top, have already finished their appetizers and first round of drinks. I smile and make friendly conversation as I serve their main course, then hurry to refill their drinks. As I return with a tray full of glasses, the asshole starts snapping his fingers at me.

“I’ll be with you in one moment, sir,” I tell him.

“What’s a man got to do to get service around here?” he demands loudly.

Oops, that internal eye roll just about made it to my face. “I’m on my way sir, don’t you worry,” I say, as cheerfully as ever.

“Don’t tell me what to do! Don’t you know who I am?”

I’m tempted as hell to tell him, no, I fucking don’t, but I ignore him instead, turning up the wattage on my smile as I serve the other party. This party includes at least two people I could name without Googling, and two others I recognize as secondary characters. That’s the other entertaining aspect of this job—trying to put names to the faces, and movies to the names. There are plenty of opportunities to practice.