And that son of a Devil who stole all the donuts … he’d manipulated me into this! And he wasn’t a hot fanfiction Draco Malfoy! Well, not just a hot fanfiction Draco Malfoy, anyway … he was also a giant, red, disturbingly sexy beast.

I scowled over at my bookshelf, filled with paperbacks of demons, orcs, dragon shifters, eight-foot-tall blue aliens …

“This is all your fault!” I snarled at them. “I should not find him attractive!”

I dropped my phone back onto the bench. I needed to think. I needed a shower. I needed something in my stomach that wasn’t donuts in wine soup. And I needed to work out how the … Hell … I was getting myself out of this predicament.

* * *

My damp hair smelled like my strawberry shampoo. My skin smelled like citrus soap. My armpits were coated with watermelon deodorant. I was about as fruity as they came.

And I was still no closer to a solution.

I had no idea what four ‘payments’ he’d expect of me. The only thing I was certain of was that he wouldn’t be coming around demanding cash. What would a devil do with cash, anyway? Buy another eighty donuts to torment another unsuspecting soul?

No … he’d come up with something far more sadistic than that. Maybe he’d force me to eat an endless supply of donuts, the way Homer had to in that one Simpsons episode.

Maybe he’d want to torture me …

Maybe, I thought, as I tugged on some neon purple flared leggings and a cropped T-shirt, he’ll want … sexual payments …

I shivered. Heat bloomed under my skin.

“Don’t be gross, Jemma!” I admonished myself. Popping my glasses back on, I peered at my reflection in the mirror on the back of my bedroom door. My cheeks were flushed. “This is not one of your smutty monster romances! You can’t spread your legs and shag your way out of this!”

But …

Hadn’t I already noticed how he looked at me? When I’d tied up my shirt in a vain attempt to cool myself down, he’d been gawking at my boobs and the lucky undies.

Maybe it was a good thing I hadn’t bothered to shower before I got rip-roaring drunk last night.

Maybe I could use this to my advantage …

Maybe I could shag my way out of it …

I chewed on my lip in thought as I rustled up something my stomach could cope with. I peeled a spotty banana, biting into it as I perused our fridge. Aside from the scrapings in the bottom of a butter tub, a mouldy block of cheese, and a very limp bunch of celery, it was bare.

Sighing, I tugged open the freezer and grabbed out two slices of my gluten-free bread. I kept it in there so that it lasted longer because Ezra refused to eat it. He swore that bread without gluten was the spawn of …