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shipment of stone, no problems?”
    Faye blushed. For a second she’d thought her boss meant she and Christopher—together—but that was silly. “No problems, Mr. Shogun. The stones should arrive Monday morning.”
    “Fab! You’re appreciated this morning,” he said in a sing-song voice, and ended the call.
    She stared at the phone. Never before had Pierre Shogun acknowledged her dedication or efficiency, and he’d used her name. A smile tugged at her lips. What started as a horrible day wasn’t turning out half bad. She pulled out her personal cell phone and checked for reception. Four bars. She checked her email, searching for a reply from Twitter. It had only been three hours, but a girl could hope. No new messages. Out of curiosity, she hit the Twitter app. A new message popped onto her feed.
    @CrispyCream A new you found in me
    She scrunched up her face. “What the heck it that supposed to mean?”
    “Something wrong?”
    Faye jumped and spun to face Christopher. “What? No.” She held up her phone. “We’ve got reception now.”
    He tilted his head and took hold of her wrist, staring at her screen. It took a second before she realized he was reading her Twitter feed. She pulled against his grip, but he held her steady, his gaze slowly tracking to her face.
    “You follow Satan?”
    She yanked again, this time successfully extricating herself from his hold, blushing from her stupidity. She wanted to tell him it was nothing, just a joke, but her Catholic upbringing wouldn’t let her lie. “Yes.”
    “You don’t seem like the type.”
    There was no humor in his statement. “I’m not.” She stared at the neck of his T-shirt, unable to meet his gaze. “It was supposed to be a joke but…”
    “But?”
    She sighed. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”
    “Try me.”
    She looked at him. “I think he’s the real thing.” She pressed on the Devil’s profile and handed the phone to Christopher. “I think I might have bound my soul to Satan.”
    Laughter, insults…she wasn’t sure what she expected. It definitely hadn’t been belief. He let out a low whistle.
    “Have you tried to unfollow?” he asked.
    “Yes, but my computer freezes and then a denial message pops on my screen.”
    He handed her phone back. “What else have you tried?”
    “I’ve submitted a complaint that my account has been compromised. I’m hoping Twitter can unfollow him for me.”
    “Let’s hope it’s that easy.”
    She wanted to believe it was, but things never happened that way for her. “Yeah. I also tried to exorcise my computer with a tinfoil cross.”
    That garnered her one of his dimpled smiles. “And?”
    “Still chained to an eternity of damnation.” She paced along the length of the altar. “I think I need something stronger.”
    “Like what?”
    She shrugged. “I don’t know. Holy water, maybe a young priest and an old priest?”
    “You’re going to perform an exorcism on your computer?” His smile widened. “Please say I can watch.”
    She stopped and scowled at him. “Do you have any better ideas?”
    “No.” His smile faded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make jokes.”
    “I’m an idiot. It never fails; when I try to do anything outside my comfort zone it always bites me in the butt.”
    “You certainly aren’t the first person to do something stupid.”
    “Uh, thanks…I think.”
    He closed the distance between them. “Listen, I know we don’t know each other very well, but I’d like to help…if you let me.”
    “You don’t happen to be a minister or a priest, do you?”
    “No, but I did grow up in a big Catholic family.” He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “So I know how Satan works. I’ve learned a few tricks from my mother about banishing sin.”
    Her cheek tingled from where his fingers had skimmed across her skin. From the time she’d moved to New York, she couldn’t remember anybody wanting to help her. Usually it was the other way around. Pierre used her