Sometimes, you’ve got to take a job with the devil to pay the bills…

Too bad I learned too late the devil wears Armani, is the most uptight man in the history of history, and I just signed an unbreakable contract shackling me to his pompous royal side for the summer. 

But God, he’s got this British accent that makes my panties melt.

Until the words he says catch up with my brain and make me want to throw one of his precious vases at his head.
 
One minute we’re fighting––and the next—we can’t keep our hands off each other. Because somehow, when Mr. Blue Eyes is kissing me, he makes me forget how much he annoys me.  

And that starts a whole new level of complications I. Don’t. Need.

Cuz if you dance with the devil, someone’s gonna end up getting burned…