Rico slumped in the cracked leather of his office chair, the one that had molded itself around his soft gut over the last three years of doing the absolute bare minimum. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead like they were judging him. Outside the glass walls of his corner office, his former corner office, Jessica Taylor stood with her arms crossed, that sharp little smile she only wore when she was about to ruin someone’s day.

Beside her was the replacement.

Allison Mitchell. Tall. Slim. Brunette waves that fell past her shoulders like she’d walked out of a shampoo commercial. Legs that went on forever in a tight black pencil skirt, blouse straining just enough across a pair of heavy, perfect tits to make every man in the building trip over his own tongue. She was everything Rico wasn’t: polished, competent, and so fuckable it was almost unfair.

Jessica didn’t even look at him when she said it.

“Clear your desk by five. Allison starts Monday. You’ve had long enough to pretend you belong here.”

Rico opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Allison gave him a polite, pitying little nod, like he was already a ghost, and followed Jessica out. The door clicked shut with the finality of a coffin lid.

That night he sat in his shitty apartment, laptop open, scrolling through the kind of sites that made your antivirus software cry. He was half-drunk, fully bitter, and completely convinced the universe had screwed him for one reason only: he had a dick.

If he’d been a woman, especially a woman who looked like that, Jessica would’ve bent over backward to keep him. He’d still have the office. The power. The respect. Hell, he’d have the body to back it up.

He found the site buried three layers deep on some sketchy Wicca forum. Dark purple background, bad fonts, a single “ritual of reciprocal flesh” that promised exactly what he wanted. Body for body. Soul for soul. No returns.

Rico laughed once, bitter and sharp, then read the words out loud just to feel like he was doing something.

The room folded.

It wasn’t pain so much as inversion, like someone had reached inside his chest, grabbed his entire existence, and yanked it sideways through a keyhole. Colors smeared. Sound stretched. For one endless second he was nowhere and everywhere at once.

Then he slammed back into existence …