I sat down at the chair behind my desk, not saying a word. Years ago, I’d discovered how easily intimidated people could be by silence and an unblinking stare. I didn’t need to threaten, insult, or curse. My silence did all the work for me in unnerving people.
Zed—that infuriating fuck—knew how I operated. He was the one who conducted interviews and auditions, not me. He just wanted to ruin my damn night by outing me like that when Lucas clearly had no clue who he was getting involved with. Had he known, he never would have hit on me in the first place. I was too damn scary.
“Take a seat, Lucas,” Zed offered, indicating to one of the chairs in front of my desk.
The model-gorgeous man just stood behind the chairs, glaring at me with accusation and betrayal clear across his face. He’d need to work on that.
I let out an annoyed sigh. “Sit down, Lucas.” My voice cracked with authority, and his face tightened in anger. But still, he did as he was told and slowly sank into a vacant seat.
That was a point in his favor, at least. He recognized when he needed to obey a command.
Zed didn’t take the spare seat, instead opting to perch on the side of my desk. His designer suit was as impeccable as always, but his tie was missing and the top button of his shirt was undone. No doubt he’d been about to head off with whatever girl he was seeing this week before he decided to fuck up my night instead.
He reached over to the pile of employment applications in the middle of my desk—applications I hadn’t even gone through yet—and pulled Lucas’s from the top.
“Okay. Lucas Wilder,” Zed started in a dry tone, “let’s see. Twenty-one years old, recently moved from Colorado, no criminal history, no dependents, and”—Zed paused, dramatic as hell—“no prior work experience. Can you tell me why you want to work at 7th Circle?”
Lucas didn’t respond. His eyes remained locked on me, burning with anger like I’d somehow deliberately misled him. Okay, sure. That’s what I’d done. But so fucking what? He’d gotten to screw the infamous Hades in a storeroom. There were wannabe gangsters—and fully blooded ones—all over this side of the country who would cut their own fingers off for a chance to get in my panties.
But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Lucas wasn’t a gangster. He was just a nice guy who needed money desperately enough that he’d consider whoring.
“Okay, this is going well,” Zed muttered, throwing Lucas’s application back down on my desk and turning to give me a meaningful glare. I just met his eyes with a cool gaze, and he turned back to our prospective employee. “Can you even dance?”
Lucas pushed his chair back abruptly, surging to his feet.
“This was a bad idea,” he spat, but the way he met my eyes implied he meant more than just applying for the job. Ouch. If I still had my soul, that one might hurt.
He started to leave the office, and I let out a small groan of frustration. I was about to do something stupid again.
“Lucas, don’t be an idiot,” I snapped, the sound of my voice freezing him with his hand on the doorknob. “You need the job. Stripping at 7th Circle pays double what whoring for Dick’s does, so swallow your fucking pride and take the job.”
“Who says he has the job?” Zed muttered under his breath, but I shut him up with a scathing glare.
Lucas hadn’t moved from his position, and I knew he was in a bad situation. Damn it all to hell, I genuinely wanted to help him. What the fuck was wrong with me? Had someone spiked my drink?
“Lucas,” I said again. “You won’t get a better job in Shadow Grove. Not with that resume.”
His shoulders rose as he drew a deep breath, then he turned back around to face us with a look of hard determination on his face. “I suppose I should be grateful, then? Is that how you audition all your new employees?”
Zed let out a small sound, like he was almost impressed by this guy’s balls. No one spoke to me in that tone, then lived to tell the tale.
Yet here I was, not even mad about it. Fucking hell, maybe that rejection from Cass had broken something in my mind.
“Zed, give us a minute.” My voice was cool and calm, unemotional.
My oldest friend and most trusted associate slipped off the edge of my desk without a question and clapped Lucas on the shoulder as he passed. “It was nice knowing you, kid. You’ll make a pretty corpse.” He chuckled at his own dark humor as he left the office, closing the door firmly behind him.
Lucas’s determined expression faltered a moment, showing a flash of fear, and I swallowed an irritated sigh. Fucking Zed was such a shit stirrer, and he was getting worse by the day, always pushing my damn buttons like only he could.
“What did he mean by that?” Lucas asked into the silence filling the room. “Are you going to kill me now or something?”
I let one of my copper brows rise as I sat forward, my fingers linked on the desktop. “It wouldn’t be the first time I shot someone for disrespecting me.”
Fear flickered across his face, and for the first time in forever, that emotion gave me no satisfaction. I just felt like an asshole, and I hated that feeling. Fuck me, what had I been thinking scratching my orgasm itch on this innocent petal?
Oh yeah, that's right. I'd been thinking that Cass embarrassed the hell out of me, making me feel like a stupid, lovesick little girl, and I wanted to get back at him. I wanted to take back control and remind Cass exactly who he was dealing with. I was Hades, not some drugged-out gang-whore.
The only downside to that plan? The stricken look on Lucas's gorgeous face right now. Fuck.
I heaved a sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. I was too drunk for this bullshit—and the earful Zed would no doubt give me when Lucas was gone. Maybe the solution was to drink more.
Reaching into my desk drawer, I pulled out a bottle of scotch and twisted the cap off. Not looking at Lucas, I took a long swig straight from the bottle, then closed my eyes and prayed for some sanity. But if there was a god, he or she had abandoned me a long time ago, so it was no surprise to receive no response.
"Lucas," I tried again. I let my long lashes flicker open and found him staring straight at me. Damn, that was unnerving. He didn't look at me with the wary respect I'd grown used to. He looked at me like I was a woman who'd just punched him in the balls for no good reason.
"Hayden," he replied, his voice soft and hurt.
My heart squeezed, and I shook my head. "Don't ever call me that again," I told him in a quiet voice, hating myself all the more. "It's Hades and nothing else. Got it?"
His brow creased, but he jerked a nod. "Got it." His tone was full of bitterness and anger.
I took another sip of Scotch, but there wasn't enough liquor in the world, it seemed. "I'm giving you a job, Lucas. Don't be a fucking idiot and throw it away over your hurt feelings. Believe me when I say you don't want to work at Dick's."
His expression hardened. "Is that how you interview all your potential staff?" he asked, his tone scathing. "You take them all for a test ride and only give them the job if they make you come?"
I slammed my bottle down on the desk with a crack and gave Lucas a hard glare. "Watch your fucking tone, Lucas. You have no clue who you're dealing with."