I sucked in a shaky breath. “This isn’t going to work!” I moaned softly, panic rising like bile in my throat. I passed Luci to him, shaking the nervous energy from my fingers. “Someone will guess I’m just a cosplaying human, or … what if everything we’re assuming about him is just us projecting, and he’s not that into me, and nothing I do will make a difference?”

Ezra’s eyes softened. “I honestly don’t think that’s going to happen. Just go down there, be your usual, vivacious self, and flash him that killer cleavage …” He pointedly glared at my popping boobs. “I guarantee he won’t stand a chance.”

“But … what if he does—stand a chance, I mean? What if he’s gotten some perspective over these last two weeks, and he’s determined to stay on track with his little FiendPay scheme? Or …” I wiped my clammy palm on his T-shirt, “… what if no matter how strong our feelings become for one another, he’s got no choice but to go through with this? If I make him feel so strongly … or make him admit he feels strongly … and then he finishes his plan anyway, and we both end up heartbroken and hating each other, and my soul still goes to Hell when I die?”

“Jemma, look at me,” Ezra said sternly. Blowing out breaths through a tiny hole in my lips, trying to calm myself, I turned to him.

“You have two choices. Give this plan a go, or just not try at all. Either way, worst-case scenario is that your soul becomes the property of Hell. But at least if you try, there’s a chance it ends differently.”

I closed my eyes. “You’re right. I know you are.”

“So go down there, make that sexy red devil fall so deep he can’t imagine ever hurting you, and save your soul in the process!”

I nodded firmly, but my stomach still churned.

* * *

I stood in front of the whirling portal, nervously fluffing up the sexy waves Jules had put in my hair. I smoothed down the front of the black leather corset. It was so unlike anything he’d ever seen me in before.

As soon as we returned to the apartment, the Hound-ferrets had trotted into my bedroom and returned in their regular, doggy form.

“I think I’m going to need a stiff drink after this,” Ezra mumbled, watching as Luci clambered up onto the back of the white-snouted one. It seemed she could recognise them in any form. She nuzzled her cheek up against his floppy ear.

“Do I look okay?” I asked, adjusting the pantyhose self-consciously.

“Don’t worry, Jemma Bliss. Boss is gonna love that outfit!” the Hound with the all-black snout yipped.

“Did that … did it just … talk?” Ezra gasped.