Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Because I’m standing here, gawking at her like she’s an animal in a cage. I’m her boss and I’m ogling her and making her uncomfortable. I’m acting like an unforgivable jerk. I give myself a shake. “You look adequate.”
“Adequate.” She blinks. “Be sure to pass your thoughts along to Zeus when he sees the bill.”
Adequate. What am I saying? The dress is a masterpiece. I want to run my hands over it, following the folds. I want to kneel at her feet and start my way from the bottom. Or, better, start at the top. I want to peel the damn thing off her and…
I close my eyes, striving for focus. “You look lovely. I’m sorry. You caught me off guard.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment but thanks.”
I open my eyes to find her studying the restaurant behind me. She’s not worrying her bottom lip the way she does when she’s nervous, but it’s a near thing. “So I guess we’re doing this.”
“It’s not too late to change your mind.”
She sends me an arch look. “I’m sure Zeus would have something to say about that.”
Without a doubt, but I’d rather tangle with Zeus than put her in a position where she feels unsafe. “Let me handle Zeus.”
Cassandra studies me for a long moment and shakes her head, her mouth pulling into a wry smile. “No, Apollo. I said yes and I plan to hold him to his end of the bargain. I won’t give him reason to say I didn’t do what I promised. Let’s get these tongues wagging.”
I want to keep arguing, but we’re already drawing looks. It’s too late. She won’t change her mind, so the least I can do is make this as painless for her as possible. I turn smoothly and offer my arm. “Shall we?”
“By all means.” She places her hand gingerly in the crook of my arm.
I should leave it at that, but she’s right. If we’re going to do this, we need to sell it. “Cassandra,” I say softly. I wait for her to look up at me to continue. This close, her citrus scent threatens to derail my thoughts, but I power through. “You’ve seen me date other people.”
She’s smart. She connects the dots almost instantly. Her mouth goes tight and then relaxes into a surprisingly convincing smile. “Right. Sorry.” She takes a deep breath and leans in to me, shifting one hand up to cup my bicep and wrapping her free one around my forearm. The new position has her breasts pressing against my arm and my hand is far too close to the juncture of her thighs and…
I almost break away. I actually tense to put some distance between us before I remember that this is the whole point. I might not touch my employee like this, but I certainly would touch someone I was dating. More, I’m known for it. Not effusive public displays of affection, but the casual intimacy that lets everyone in the room know who this person is to me.
“Apollo?”
The faint concern in her tone grounds me. I manage a smile, give myself one last mental shake, and force myself to make the switch to my public persona. I’ve been Apollo long enough that I don’t have to bother playing games when I don’t want to, but old habits die hard. Before I held the title, I had to play harder than anyone. I can do so again.
I give Cassandra a charming grin and can’t help the slight vindication at the way she goes a little soft before she catches herself. If I tried to seduce this woman… Would she be just as sweet beneath the harsh exterior as I suspect? Would she go soft for me, let down her walls, and let me take care of her?
I’ll never know.
This isn’t real. It will never be real, because after Minos’s party has wrapped up, Cassandra will take her sister and leave Olympus once and for all. I’ll never see her again.
We walk through the doors of the Dryad, trading in the balmy August night for frigid air-conditioning. I’ve always liked this place. You get a sense of theater from the moment you arrive, the doors opening to a small landing space that leads to an arching bridge over a koi pond. There are rocks on either side with water trickling down them, the sound pleasing. It gives the impression of entering a grotto, and the rest of the restaurant only takes that flight of fantasy further.
It might be the spot to see and be seen after hours, but the owner keeps it from being absolutely unbearable with a particular brand of entertainment in the evening and the best food and drink Olympus has to offer.
Speak of the devil.
Pan himself is behind the host counter, talking to the hostess in low tones. He’s what my grandmother would call a character. He is one of the few success stories that don’t link back to a lineage stretching to the city’s conception. Even I’m not sure where he came from—I suspect the lower city—but he showed up one day and bought the old restaurant that used to be in this space with cash. Within five years, he’d built a reputation that drew Olympus’s elite families like magpies to glittering jewels. Now, he’s nearly untouchable. No one wants to risk infuriating him and being blacklisted from this place, especially not after how things fell out with the last Aphrodite.