Page 16 of Summoning Mr. Wrong (Hotter than Hell #1)

I got the bookstore job. The owner called the next morning, offering me a position with slightly better pay than the coffee shop and a schedule that didn’t require waking up at ungodly hours. I accepted immediately, relief washing through me like a physical wave.

“Told you,” Deus said smugly when I shared the news. “Your merits are excellent.”

“You didn’t do anything demonic to influence this, did you?” I asked suspiciously.

He placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “I am shocked—shocked!—that you would accuse me of such a thing.”

“That’s not a no.”

“I did nothing,” he assured me. “This was all you. Though I did pick out the shirt you wore to the interview, so I deserve some credit.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress my smile. The financial pressure that had been crushing me was lifted, at least temporarily. I’d still need Deus’s help with this month’s rent, but going forward, I could manage on my own again.

“We should celebrate,” Deus declared, already opening the fridge. “I’m thinking homemade pizza and that wine you liked last week.”

“Sounds perfect,” I agreed, watching as he began gathering ingredients with practiced efficiency.

My phone rang as Deus was kneading dough, his forearms dusted with flour, tattoos swirling lazily beneath the white powder. I checked the screen and felt my stomach drop.

“Mom,” I said, showing Deus the screen. “I should take this.”

He nodded, continuing his work as I answered.

“Hey, Mom,” I said, trying to sound normal and not like I had a demon in my kitchen making pizza dough.

“Julian! I’ve been trying to reach you for days. Is everything okay?”

Guilt twisted in my stomach. With everything happening with Deus, I’d been neglecting my regular calls with my parents. “Everything’s fine. Great, actually. I just got a new job at a bookstore.”

“Oh honey, that’s wonderful!” Her enthusiasm was genuine, which only increased my guilt. My parents had always been supportive, even when my art history degree had led to a series of service jobs instead of a career. “Is it full-time?”

“Almost. Thirty-five hours a week, and better pay than the coffee shop.”

“Your father will be so pleased. He’s been worried since you mentioned money was tight.”

I winced, remembering our last conversation where I’d hinted at my financial struggles. “Yeah, things are looking up now.”

“Good, good.” There was a pause, and I could practically hear her gathering courage for whatever came next. “So, we were thinking of coming to visit this weekend. It’s been almost six months since we’ve seen you, and your father has that conference in the city anyway…”

My eyes flew to Deus, who was now shaping the dough into a perfect circle, his supernatural hearing clearly picking up both sides of the conversation. He raised an eyebrow, looking amused.

“This weekend?” I repeated weakly. “As in, two days from now?”

“Is that a problem? We could stay at a hotel if your apartment is too small…”

“No, no, that’s not it.” My mind raced. What was I supposed to do with Deus? I couldn’t exactly introduce him as “Mom, Dad, this is the demon I accidentally summoned who’s now my roommate-slash-sex-partner.”

“We’d love to see your new place,” my mother continued, oblivious to my panic. “And we won’t be in your way. Just dinner on Saturday, maybe brunch on Sunday before we head back.”

Deus was now making exaggerated gestures, pointing at himself and then the door, mouthing what looked like “I can disappear.”

“That would be great,” I said, relief washing over me. If Deus could just make himself scarce for the weekend, this could work. “I’d love to see you both.”

We worked out the details—they’d arrive Saturday afternoon, stay at a hotel nearby, and we’d have dinner at my place that evening. After hanging up, I turned to Deus with wide eyes.

“My parents. Here. Saturday.”

“I heard,” he said calmly, returning to his pizza preparation. “Don’t worry, I can make myself scarce. Disappear for the weekend.”

“You can do that? Even with the contract thing?”

He hesitated. “Well, not completely disappear. The contract requires proximity. But I can stay out of sight, maybe hang out on the roof or something.”

I considered this. “That seems… uncomfortable. For you, I mean.”

He shrugged. “I’ve endured worse in my existence.”

But the thought of Deus sitting alone on my building’s roof while I had dinner with my parents didn’t sit right with me. After two months together, he’d become… important to me. More than just a supernatural roommate or occasional bedmate.

“What if…” I started, then paused, considering the absurdity of what I was about to suggest. “What if you just stayed? As my roommate.”

Deus looked up from the dough, surprise evident on his face. “You want to introduce me to your parents?”

“As my roommate,” I clarified quickly. “Not as… whatever else you are.”

“And what else am I, Julian?” he asked, his voice suddenly serious.

I swallowed, unprepared for the question. “I don’t know. Friend? More than friend? Supernatural entity with benefits?”

He laughed, but there was something forced about it. “Supernatural entity with benefits. I like that.”

“So, would you be willing to do it?” I asked, bringing us back to the original question. “Pretend to be my normal, human roommate for a weekend?”

Deus considered it, his hands still working the dough. “I’d need to… tone down certain aspects of myself. The eyes, for one.” He gestured to his glowing amber irises. “And the horns tend to appear when I’m stressed or excited.”

“Can you control those things?”

“With effort, yes.” He nodded slowly. “I could pass for human. Just a very attractive, charismatic human with unusual tattoos.”

“And you’d have to wear clothes,” I added. “All the time. Including shoes.”

He made a face. “The shoes are pushing it, but for you, I’ll manage.”

“Thank you,” I said, genuinely relieved.

“It would be weird trying to explain your absence when all your stuff is here.” Not that he had much stuff, but there were signs of his presence throughout the apartment now—books he’d acquired, clothes he’d manifested, the expensive coffee beans he insisted on buying.

“Just one question,” Deus said, sliding the shaped dough onto a baking sheet. “Why not tell them I’m your boyfriend? Wouldn’t that be simpler than inventing a roommate backstory?”

The question caught me off guard. “Because… because we’re not…”

“Not what?” he prompted when I trailed off.

“Not dating,” I finished lamely. “Not officially.”

“Ah.” His expression was unreadable as he turned away to gather pizza toppings. “Of course.”

I felt like I’d somehow hurt his feelings, which seemed absurd. Did demons even have feelings to hurt? But the sudden tension in his shoulders, the careful way he was avoiding my eyes—it certainly looked like I’d struck a nerve.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t want to,” I said carefully. “It’s just… complicated. You’re not exactly…”

“Human?” he supplied, still not looking at me.

“Here permanently,” I corrected. “Eventually you’ll complete your favor and leave. Right?”

He was quiet for a moment, arranging toppings on the pizza with more concentration than the task required. “Right,” he said finally. “The favor.”

“So it makes more sense to introduce you as my roommate,” I continued, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in my chest. “Less explaining to do if you’re suddenly… not around anymore.”

“Makes perfect sense.” His voice was light, but his tattoos were moving more rapidly than normal, a sure sign of emotional disturbance. “Now, do you want extra cheese on this or not?”

The subject was clearly closed, but the strange tension lingered through dinner. Deus was his usual charming self, telling outrageous historical anecdotes and making me laugh, but there was a new guardedness in his eyes, a careful distance he maintained.