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Summary
“Let’s get one thing straight,” he barks. “I don’t like you, nor do I respect you. This whole program is utterly ridiculous and I fear Prince Diavolo is a fool for suggesting such a thing. You’re just a lowly human, got that? You’ll always be nothing, especially to me, The Great Mammon.”
If he was looking for tears or offense, you were afraid that is not what he’d receive. You’d been playing the court since you were young, so these insults were nothing new to you. Actually, it was almost a relief for him to underestimate you because of your status as a human, and not a woman. Men were so dreadfully pigheaded sometimes, and you were sick and tired of having to play the good girl card, only smiling demurely instead of sharing your mind as you wished.
“Not going to say anything?” Lord Mammon snorts, and you cock your head at him.
“My apologies, Lord Mammon,” you say, “for I had not realized you were done speaking. I’m afraid I wasn’t listening all that closely.” Lord Mammon gapes at you, but you’re not finished. “Furthermore, I don’t know what the women down here are like, but I assure you, a few brash curse words and scowls thrown my way is not enough to scare me.”
(A Regency AU. Sort of)