I don’t want to do this, but my options are between bad and worse. Which means I don’t actually have a choice. Still, I can’t help pressing him. “Why would you do this? Why not just do what your mother wants?”
“Unlike my mother, I am capable of putting my emotions aside and thinking logically.” I almost snort at that; I can’t imagine Eros having emotions in the first place. He continues, watching me closely. “Your mother will go off the deep end if something happens to you, and she’ll turn the city upside down until she finds the culprit. There’s the smallest chance she might actually figure out the trail leads back to me. That’s not my idea of a good time.”
When he puts it like that, it does makes sense. He might not be able to stop his mother, but he’s aware enough to realize that he’ll be the one paying the consequences if he goes through with this. “That’s the only reason?”
He looks away, the first sign that he might be in anything other than perfect control. “I don’t have a conscience, so don’t get any funny ideas.”
“Of course not,” I murmur.
“It feels shitty to do this after you helped me.” He speaks so softly, the words are almost lost in the general murmur of the bar around us.
I can’t decide if him acknowledging that makes this situation better or worse. It’s obviously not something I can try to use as leverage, not when he’s been very clear about his intentions. It doesn’t matter if he thinks it’s shitty; he’ll still do it. I sigh. “I’ll agree on one condition.”
“You seem to be under the mistaken impression that you have anything to negotiate with.”
Fear tries to clamp around my throat, but I muscle past the instinctive response trying to stifle my words. I can’t afford to let fear rule me right now. I only have one chance to pull this off, and I have to get whatever promises from him that I can. “We both know I do.”
After a long moment, he looks at me and inclines his head. “What’s your condition?”
“You won’t harm my family. Not my sisters. Not my mother. I’m not dodging this bullet only for one of them to take the hit.”
He hesitates but finally nods again. “You have my word.”
I don’t know if that’s enough, but it’s not like I can have a contract drawn up and… Speaking of contracts. Fuck. “I also need a prenup.”
“No.”
I have two years before I turn twenty-five and gain access to the trust fund my grandmother set up for me. It’s not an insignificant amount of money; people have been killed for less. Then again, I suppose Eros has something similar in his name. No matter what else is true about Aphrodite, it’s common knowledge that her fortune rivals even Poseidon’s. One of the perks of that particular title is the money is attached to Aphrodite, not to the person who holds it. But the last three people to be Aphrodite ensured that their children were well taken care of, so there’s no reason to believe this one has done any differently. “Why not?”
“Because this is a whirlwind romance and people deeply enough in love to sprint to the altar aren’t smart enough to write up prenups beforehand.”
Damn it. He’s right. “Fine.”
“If that’s settled, let’s go.” Eros rises from the table and holds out a hand. “My car is around back.”
I cautiously slip my hand into his and allow him to tug me out of the booth and to my feet. I half expect him to release me, but he simply laces our fingers together and heads for the dark rectangle of shadows in the back of the room. As we get closer, it resolves into an exit. It’s not until we’re walking down the dim, narrow hallway and through the grimy back door that I realize this could all be a trap.
I dig in my heels, but Eros easily hauls me along behind him without missing a step. He’s stronger than he looks. Panic rears its ugly head and I try to regulate my breathing. “Eros—”
“I gave my word, Psyche.” He pulls me out into the freezing night air. The ground is slick beneath my boots, but he doesn’t seem to have any trouble with it. “I know that doesn’t mean shit to most people, but it does to me.”
I obviously haven’t learned my lesson, because I honestly believe him. Even knowing he can lie so effectively, the strange look on his face when I said I’d take his word as truth is enough to convince me he means it.
I’ve made my choice. It wasn’t much of a choice, but I’ll stand by it. It’s not until I’m climbing into the passenger seat of his fancy sports car that the implications of what I’ve agreed to really sink in.
Eros starts the engine, and I look at him. “We can’t tell anyone the truth.”
“Who would I tell?” He says it so casually, as if it’s obvious that he has no one close enough to want to trust with what’s really going on. I know he doesn’t have siblings, but surely he has friends? I’ve seen him with the Kasios siblings regularly, but friendships in the upper crust of Olympus are often more political alliances than anything else.
Eros pulls out from behind the bar and onto the street. “That means no telling your sisters.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that. My sisters aren’t going to believe I had a secret whirlwind romance. We tell each other everything.”
“Everything?” He pulls up to an intersection and looks at me. The red from the stoplight plays over his cheekbones and jaw, highlighting his sensually curved lips.
Gods, the man is beautiful. I keep expecting to get used to it, but every time I look at him, it’s a shock to my system. That will wear off. It has to. I can’t imagine being in close contact with him for a prolonged period of time and still being affected on this level. There are plenty of beautiful people in this city who I don’t lose my head around. He’ll number among them within a week. I hope.
Did he say something?
I give myself a shake. “Yes, everything. They won’t believe a secret relationship.”
“Make them believe, Psyche. If word gets out that this is anything but genuine, we’ll both pay the price.”
The sheer weight of what we’re doing has me slumping back in the uncomfortable seat. I shift, but it doesn’t get better. “How long?”
“How long what?”
“How long are we doing this?”
“As long as it takes.”
I stare at him. “That is nowhere near specific enough.”
“Fine.” He shrugs. “Until my mother is no longer Aphrodite.”
That seems more reasonable, but it could still potentially be a long time. There are only three ways for one of the Thirteen to stop holding their title—death, exile, or retirement. I can count on one hand how many have chosen the latter option in the entire history of Olympus. A scattering more have had that option forced on them because health or mental deterioration made it impossible to do their duties. The odds still aren’t in our favor. Aphrodite won’t step down voluntarily, and she’s in her fifties. If left unchecked, she might be around for decades.