I can’t be in a fake marriage for decades. I can’t. I’ve barely let myself dream of love and a family and everything that entails. If I spend twenty years married to Eros, that will nuke those dreams. The knowledge leaves a weight in my chest that is difficult to speak past. “You won’t kill Aphrodite.”
“She’s a monster, but she’s my mother.” He takes another turn, guiding the car north. “I won’t allow you to do something to put her in danger, either.”
That limits our options considerably. I turn and stare out the window. The farther from the warehouse district we get, the more the buildings lining the street change. The bars disappear from the windows. The streets become more pristine and look less grimy. As we enter the blocks around Dodona Tower—Zeus’s seat of power—the storefronts take on a uniform look that’s as soulless as it is flawless.
Several blocks northwest of the tower, Eros turns into an underground parking garage. I manage to stay silent until he parks and turns off the car. We sit there for a moment, the air seeming to gain weight between us. I can’t look at him. This is too dangerous, too volatile. Words bubble up, escaping before I can think better of them. “You know, it strikes me that I’ve already broken the rule about going to a secondary location with someone who means me harm.”
He gives me a strange look. “Do you always make bad jokes when you’re nervous?”
“No. Never. But then, I’ve never been threatened with actual death before, so there’s a first time for everything.”
“We’ll talk inside.”
I follow him out of the car and look at the space around me. My mother’s building is quite a bit farther from the city center, and although it’s nice, it’s very clear that our neighborhood isn’t as interested in keeping up with the Thirteen’s idea of what beauty entails. Mother likes to stay close to the agriculture district so when there are inevitable issues, she’s a short drive away. Our neighborhood and home are expensive but understated.
There is nothing understated about this place. Even the parking garage reeks of wealth, from the line of hideously expensive cars, to the bright lights displaying everything, to the glassed-in elevator area. There is even a security guard in a glassed-in booth, a white man in a nondescript black uniform. I glance at Eros. “Is this security really necessary?”
“Depends on who you ask.” Eros opens the glass door to the interior room that houses the elevator and steps back, allowing me to precede him into the space. He slides an arm around my waist, and I nearly levitate right out of my skin. It takes everything I have not to shove him away, to relax against him as if touching Eros is something that I do all the time.
We step onto the elevator and I barely wait for the doors to close before I try to move away. Eros only tightens his hold on me. “There are cameras.”
Right. I should have thought of that. Of course there are cameras covering every inch of the public space in this building. I speak through gritted teeth that I hope look like a grin. “We haven’t started this yet.”
“We started it the second you said yes. Relax and stop grinding your teeth.” He smiles down at me—his liar’s smile with warm eyes and sweetly curved lips. “We’re in love, after all.”
7
Eros
Touching Psyche was a mistake. She’s so fucking soft that I have the nearly unstoppable urge to run my hands all over her body and… Fuck, I need to get a hold of myself. Being attracted to her is useful for the lie we’re about to pull off, but losing control is unacceptable.
My mother is going to be furious.
I shouldn’t relish that knowledge. She holds most of the cards and I have so few that there’s a very real chance she’ll throw caution to the wind and exile me for this. No matter how reckless she is, she’ll know this marriage isn’t the real thing. Not that she’d care one way or another. To Aphrodite, it doesn’t matter if I’m hopelessly in love with Demeter’s daughter or playing some deeper manipulation. She only cares about her endgame.
No, the one we need to convince is Demeter herself. I need her in my corner, and I need it yesterday. If she’s on my side—our side—then she can step in and protect us in a way even I can’t manage. I am only a son of Aphrodite. Demeter is one of the Thirteen and has more alliances and power than anyone.
There’s a reason Aphrodite hates her so much, after all.
My mother would hang me out to dry if she thought it would serve her long game. Demeter threatened to starve half the city to get Persephone back from Hades—and then followed through on that threat. If not for Hades’s foresight, people might have died. So, yeah, we need to convince Demeter that we’re hopelessly in love so that her legendary overprotective motherly instincts kick in. An impossible ask, but if anyone can pull it off, it’s me and Psyche.
The elevator stops at my floor and the door slides soundlessly open. The entire floor is my penthouse suite, so there’s just a small room here with a single door. I release Psyche and unlock the door. “Welcome home.”
I expect her to keep showing her nerves and her claws in equal measure, but she turns a happy smile on me. “Thank you, baby. I’m so happy.”
It’s a lie. I know it’s a lie. That doesn’t detract from the power of my response in the least. I rock back on my heels and have to clench my fists to keep from reaching for her. She hates me and I don’t know how I feel about her in general, but there’s just enough chemistry between us to make things complicated. I haven’t missed the way her gaze keeps flicking to my mouth as if she can’t stop looking at my lips.
I wasn’t imagining her attraction the night of the party.
I’m not surprised; I have access to a mirror, after all. My looks are as much of a weapon as anything else in my arsenal. People see a pretty face and they’re conditioned to expect certain things, which means they often don’t look for the danger beneath the surface. If Psyche is among those who find me attractive, all the better. We’re going to be up close and personal for quite some time.
Maybe I shouldn’t look forward to that. I sure as fuck shouldn’t already be considering how quickly I can get my hands on her again. I have to be better than this. For our scheme to work, neither of us can afford to be distracted.
Psyche steps into my home and whistles. “You really went full-on millionaire playboy when you decorated this, didn’t you? How crass.”
The cloud of lust around my head dissipates a little. I try to see my penthouse from her point of view. It’s filled with expensive things, yes, but so is her mother’s home, I’d wager. “What’s wrong with it?”
Her lips quirk and she sweeps a hand to encompass the entire room. “How narcissistic do you have to be to have a hexagon-shaped foyer with mirrors on every single wall?”