Chapter 6

6

Hades was a perfect gentleman. Persephone stood in the foyer of her beautiful apartment a month later, putting on her earrings in front of the mirror, waiting for Charon to knock on the door.

Occasionally Hades sent his employee to pick her up. Hades got caught up in meetings sometimes, but didn’t like to be late for their outings. Charon was a decent stand in, taking her to a restaurant, where they would serve her a glass of wine, and Hades would always arrive soon after, smiling and full of compliments to her beauty.

A perfect gentleman, she thought again. He hadn’t kissed her again, but he put his arm around her to keep her warm whenever they went on long drives through the park, or to his favored private club on the edge of the city. And when he took her to more dangerous parts of town in order to show her a friend’s restaurant, he would loop her arm through his as they walked from the car into the building, and stay by her side all night. She felt safe with him.

He was generous, too. The roses in the foyer were a gift from him. The dress and necklace she wore were other gifts. She always blushed when she got a gift—it seemed too much. But try telling Hades that and he just shook his head and got stubborn. And when Hades got stubborn, well…

Once, telling her that he had to miss a date because of business, he told her to go into a shop and try on whatever she liked. Charon had followed, a silent shadow who saw everything and said nothing. Everything she touched, whether she liked it or not, arrived in large shopping bags at her apartment the next day.

She would have been exasperated—she already felt that things were so uneven between them, and every gift he gave her only made her feel that gap all the more. She didn’t care about the jewelry or the clothes. Sure, they were nice.

But all she wanted was Hades.

In the end, it was why she accepted all the gifts. Because she knew it made him happy. It meant something to him, she could tell, to be able to drape the woman he cared for in fine things. To help her stand out as his. And that was all she ever wanted because she could barely remember a time before Hades.

But could something so beautiful and perfect actually last? For her, Persephone Vestian?

Things were just so good. And well…she couldn’t help feeling on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She couldn’t help it. Her mother had built a lifetime of paranoia in her.

It didn’t help that she felt sure she was being watched. Once in a while, returning home from work in the evening, she’d be coming down the street and get the feeling. She’d look over quickly, and there would be the sleek tip of a car turning out of an alley, or parked on the street. The windows were always tinted so she could never see inside.

At first she’d been terrified, sure it was her mother come to steal her back to the farm. But when nothing ever came of it, when the cars continued simply waiting patiently and following her movements…she couldn’t help wondering. Was…was Hades having her followed? Or was she just being totally paranoid and no one was following her at all?

It’s a coincidence, Persephone thought to herself as she got ready for her evening out. You’re making up something to be worried about.

Standing in the small room that served as a foyer in front of the door, she faced the mirror one last time.

Tonight was important. Hades had been busy lately, working early and late and all hours in between, so that she barely saw him. Their last date had been three nights ago, at a new restaurant called simply ‘Nectar’. His car had met her at the animal shelter where she’d been dropping off a volunteer application and taken her straight to the place, despite her protests that she wasn’t dressed for the occasion. The night started with champagne in the car and ended with them both on the rooftop of the building, looking down over the world while the band played softly for the few late customers.

“This is beautiful,” she said.

“You’re beautiful.” Hades wasn’t looking at the city. “I think I like you in your work clothes.”

She was just wearing jeans and a plain T-shirt. She tugged at the hem of the T-shirt. “You owe me for this, Hades Ubeli.”

His mouth quirked and she went on. “Dragging me to this fancy restaurant, plying me with champagne…I’m barely fit to ride on public transport in these clothes.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said. “I’ll buy you a dress.”

She rolled her eyes and blushed like she always did. And his face, usually so serious under his dark and shining hair, had held a little half smile.

“I’d buy you all this if I could.” He swept his hand over the city, glittering below them like a box of jewels. Persephone giggled at his teasing. Seeing Hades so at ease and making jokes, while he stood so close to her, she felt euphoric.

“You mean you can’t?” she smiled back. “Mr. Ubeli, what will we do with you? You’ve been working too hard.” The moonlight cupped his dark features, the shadows under his eyes evidence of long, long nights. She wanted to reach up and touch his face, but she didn’t quite dare.

“I’ve missed you,” he said. Two fingers came to stroke her cheek. Her heartbeat took flight. He was touching her. Gods, he was touching her. “I can’t believe I have someone like you.”

She stared at him and he stared back. Had he really just said that? To her? She knew she was infatuated with him. Any girl would be. But was it… Was it actually within the realm of possibility that he could actually feel anything back? For her?

But as he stared at her, she’d swear he looked just as stunned as she felt. Oh gods, could it be true? Please, please, could it be true? She’d give anything, pay any price for this man to care for her back even half of what she felt for him.

And then she realized she had just been standing there silently. Crap.

She spoke up, haltingly. “You’ve been great too. You’re kind, more than generous. You’ve treated me like a princess.” Gods, she wasn’t saying this right. How could she make him understand? “I came to the city with such big dreams, but . . . every girl dreams of a life like this. You’ve made it come true.” She looked up at him, knowing that her cheeks were alive with the heat of the moment and the cold of the wind.

Her words weren’t enough. She wanted to tell him how she felt about him. It wasn’t just gratitude for all he’d done. Even if he’d never given her a single thing, she would feel the same way about him. She saw how he was with everybody else. Cold. Distant. The greatest gift he’d given her was himself. He’d let her in when he never let anyone in besides Charon.

His fingers remained on her cheek, but still as if any movement more than breathing would shatter it all.

“Persephone,” he whispered, and she strained to hear. The wind nearly took his words. “I want…”

“What?” she had whispered back, but there was no answer.

In the silence she’d shivered a little, and he was there, folding her into his chest, suit jacket and satin handkerchief pressing into her cheek. And he was warm, so strong, and nothing could take her away from his shelter or his heat.

“I want to keep you safe,” he said. “I want to hold you, like this…”

When he didn’t go on, she realized he didn’t have to. It was okay if he didn’t have the words. “Shh…” she whispered and closed her eyes, sinking into him.

They had stayed that way for a long time, till after the band stopped playing, and the waiters swept up, and finally they went back down to where Charon sat in the car with a fist over his mouth to keep from yawning. She had kept her head on Hades’s shoulder all the way home, as the light on the car window softened with dawn.

Hades had kept his promise. The dress had arrived that afternoon, with a note: Wear it, and we’ll call it even. She had grown used to opening gifts in the weeks that he had been preoccupied with work, but this one made her gasp as she lifted it from the tissue—the fabric was luminous gray and covered over with clear beads that glinted like city lights. A small box accompanied it. It opened to showcase a necklace. The setting was shaped like a tear, two diamonds and another stone, a large red one she couldn’t recognize.

So now she found herself standing in the dim light of the little foyer, allowing herself one last look in the mirror before her escort knocked on the door and whisked her away to Hades. She couldn’t wait to see him, but she wanted to look perfect for him.

The dress was lovely, soft and gray, like the stuff of clouds. The tiny beads twinkled, even though the only light in her dark apartment came from the cityscape outside her windows. She had turned out the lights in preparation to go out, and now saw her reflection in stark shadow and dulled light.

Still, her eyes were shining, and the jewels at her ears and neck flashed in the light of the city. She smiled. A happy, but pale face smiled back. She touched her cheek with cold fingers. So white, as if she’d been frightened. Patting them sharply to give them some color, she breathed in the scent of the roses.

A knock sounded behind her, and she all but jumped out of her skin. She laughed at herself as she put a hand to her chest. Grabbing her clutch, she turned to the door. She almost grabbed for the doorknob but stopped herself and checked through the peephole, as Hades had instructed her. City instinct, he had told her. Don’t trust you know what’s beyond your own front door.

He sounded like her mother. But still, she humored him.

The head outside the door was bent. Frowning, she waited for it to straighten so she could see a face. It certainly wasn’t Charon; his head was shaved. The one she was looking at had a full head of hair, brown and a bit tousled, though wet like it had been raining on the streets.

Finally, the head raised. Her mouth dropped open in a silent gasp and she went cold as she recognized the face from that night at the club. The night that ended with her on her back in a car, before she escaped into the streets and the empty club where she had met Hades.

She backed silently away from the door, fright closing her throat.

He didn’t see you. He can’t see you.

Still, all she wanted was to run to her bedroom and hide under the bed like a little kid. Instead, she retreated to the kitchen, grabbed her phone along with a big kitchen knife, and went into the bathroom. She closed and locked the door behind her.

Shaking, she dialed. It was a number Hades had given her if she needed to reach him. No one ever picked up, but she had never left a message before without Hades or Charon getting the information.

“Hello,” she whispered in the bathroom, “this is Persephone.” Even though she was speaking as quietly as she could, her voice echoed off the bathroom walls. Was the man still out there? Could he hear her?

“There’s a man outside my door,” she continued into the phone, both her hand and her voice shaking, but she gave every detail as carefully as she could, speaking slowly, like a small child. She hung up and waited.

Ten minutes later, she thought she could hear another knock on the door. Phone in hand, she didn’t move. Again, a knock. The phone rang, breaking the silence and nearly causing her to scream. She answered it with a half-strangled, “Hello?”

Charon was at the door. It took three tries for her shaking hands to unlock it, and when she did, he came in before she asked him, ushering her to a couch with a strong hand, flipping on lights as he did. He poured her a drink and assured her Hades was on his way. Then he went back to the foyer and she heard his deep voice, talking to what she assumed were more of Hades’s security team.

Charon was back a few minutes later, a certain look on his face that told her that he was cautiously pleased with something.

“You okay?” he asked. She’d gotten to know Charon a little bit over the past month, well, as much as you could get to know a gruff, silent security guard. But there was genuine concern in his eyes as he looked down at her.

“Yes,” she said, smoothing still trembling hands down over her gown. “I think so.”

“Two of my men were outside the apartment. They think they may have spotted him, and saw him dive down into city transport. They’re still on the trail.” There it was again, a look of quiet smugness that suggested Charon was sure he’d have his hands on the man soon. “You’ll never see him again.”

Persephone frowned. The way Charon said it, it sounded…final. Not like if they found the guy, they’d call the cops.

“He didn’t do anything,” she said. “Just scared me, that’s all.” What the hell was she doing? Defending her kidnapper? She lifted hands to her temples and rubbed. “How—how did he find me?”

But Charon’s face was now impassive, and he was suddenly no longer willing to speak. A few minutes later, Hades arrived, and she was comforted, complimented, and cradled in his strong arms. All the while Charon watched, and Persephone felt the silent, knowing glances between the man and his boss.

“Why don’t we stay in tonight, babe. Go order Greek. Charon will pick it up for us.”

She left the room reluctantly, feeling the eyes of the two men on her. When she returned, they were standing close to one another, both faces hard and strained, though she had heard no raised voices. As quiet as she was creeping back, she only heard Hades mutter, “Don’t let it happen again,” before he turned back to her, a cold but gracious host.

Persephone stood at the threshold of the room. She’d changed out of the beautiful gown into soft jeans and a plum colored cashmere sweater. This was the other side of the man she…the man she cared for. It was easy to let herself get swept away in the Hades he was when they were alone together. Passionate. Tender. Sweet. But there was another side to him. A darkness.

“Give Charon the restaurant name so he can get the food.” Before the bald man left the room, Hades added, “I don’t want any delivery boy knowing where she lives.” The quiet fury on his face made her pause halfway to the couch. He put out his hand to call her to him and she remained where she was.

“Hades,” she asked when Charon had gone, “who is this guy?” Would he open up to her?

“I told you, babe. He’s some dick off the streets who saw a goddess he can never touch and can’t get wise.” With a sigh he seated himself on the couch, staring off into nowhere, his face turned to stone.

Finally, though, he relaxed. “Come here,” he said, and held out his hand again. Slowly, she moved forward and took it, allowing him to pull her down onto the couch. He cradled her as he had when they had first met, arm around her, her head against his suit jacket.

“I don’t want you scared,” he whispered, his lips right near her face, “Don’t think you aren’t safe. Nobody, I mean nobody,” she felt him tense up, angry, “touches my girl.”

She wanted to soothe him. She wanted her Hades back. “I’m fine,” she murmured. “Nothing happened.”

They sat in silence for a time, and as the clock ticked, the tension left his body. Persephone could feel his breathing soften. She held herself very still, like a moth trapped against a lamp; feeling the danger, unable to break away. But she didn’t want to break away.

Let me in, she pleaded silently. She could handle his darkness, if he would let her be his light.

“And nothing ever will. I’ll keep you safe,” he said. “I won’t let you out of my sight.”

She remembered the gleam of the black car she spotted sometimes and frowned. “You already don’t.”

“What?” His voice mixed with the doorbell and she pulled away.

“It’s okay,” Hades said, his hands steadying her, “it’s only Charon with the food.” He mistook her anxiety and she let him, body still taut and held away from him, even though she was still so close her hair spilled over his suit.

“Persephone,” he repeated, and she relaxed.

“I’m hungry, go get dinner,” she said, but she turned her face away from him as he stood up and went to the door.

He was having her followed, she knew it now. Charon had all but admitted it when he said men watching her apartment had followed her abductor, and Hades’s words just now… This was exactly the kind of thing she’d left her mother to get away from.

She breathed out and squeezed her eyes shut. What had she gotten herself into? Did Hades think she didn’t know? Did he think she was an idiot? Was that what he wanted, some dumb, foolish little plaything he could occasionally amuse himself with?

Moving to one corner of the couch and tucking her legs under her, she listened hard. Voices in the foyer—Hades and another, no, two other men. Charon? Or the other two, the ones who had been so conveniently close to her apartment? The question was: why was he having her watched? For her safety…or because he didn’t trust her?

“You okay?” Hades asked when he returned with a paper sack of food. Persephone smiled and nodded, but it was the fake smile she always used to use with her mother. Gods how she hated to use it with Hades. But she didn’t know what else to do. Everything had seemed so sure only an hour before and now…

They set out the food, and before they tucked in, Hades asked again, “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.” The answer was shaky, but sure. She smiled again, the same fake smile. Hades didn’t notice anything was amiss, and that broke her heart a little.

“I told you, babe,” was all he said, “I’m going to take care of you.”

“I have to get off early tonight,” Persephone called to the back of the shelter where she’d started volunteering. She hadn’t been able to find another job without an ID and social, other than a few other all-cash modeling gigs she’d gotten off of Hermes’s show. Volunteering made her feel less stir-crazy in the meantime while she tried to sort something more permanent out.

“Okay,” said Hecate, who ran the shelter. “Start at the end and get as far as you can, cleaning. The bucket is in the closet, sponges and soap by the sink.”

Persephone passed two hours in silence, cleaning cages. It was hard, dirty work. Somehow, though, she felt cleaner after doing it. Scrubbing reminded her of being a kid on the farm where life was simple and full of honest, hard work. At the age of ten, it had been her job to scrub the floors of the house and to muck out the stables.

Ironic that she should be feeling nostalgia for that place she couldn’t wait to get away from.

But things were so confusing here in the city.

Hades continued to court her, taking her to the best restaurants. Sometimes she felt like he was showing her off. But that was ridiculous, he was the glamorous one. Whenever they walked into a place, people sat up and took notice. The restaurant owner would rush out to greet them, give them the best table, and check in during the meal to make sure everything was okay.

Everywhere they went, people kowtowed to Hades, and, in turn, Hades took care of her. He continued with the gifts, no matter how much she continued telling him they weren’t necessary. He even insisted his car pick her up from the apartment and drive her to the shelter. She protested but Hades said, “goddess,” in his deep voice, amused and superior and sexy all at once, and got his way. He always got his way.

And as for her misgivings from the other night…

She frowned as she scrubbed even harder at the bottom of the cage. What was she really complaining about? That a man considered her so precious he wanted to make sure she was safe at all times?

And if he was having her followed because he didn’t trust her, well, he was a wealthy man and she was a nobody. Maybe he’d been burned before. She didn’t know just how rich he was, but she knew he owned lots of businesses and was powerful, too. He’d only just met her. It was only smart for him to want to know if she really was who she said she was. Plus, it wasn’t like she had anything to hide.

And, the question she’d finally asked herself several nights ago: wasn’t he worth it? When she was with Hades she felt like she could fly. And gods, when he touched her, even just the barest brush of his hand against hers...goosebumps pebbled up and down her arms at the mere thought.

She liked him. She really liked him. She was scared to let herself think about how she felt about him, it was so strong. A lot stronger than like, if she was honest with herself. And he was giving her everything she’d ever wanted. A new life, a new identity, one in which she could be suave and city-savvy and glamorous. That’s why she came to the city, to be free of her mother. Even if Hades helped her, protected her, okay, maybe controlled her a little, did that mean she wasn’t free?

A long time later, Hecate found Persephone sitting in one of the cages surrounded by cleaning supplies, one rubber glove on and the other off. Hecate had long red hair threaded with gray that she mostly kept braided. She came to check on Persephone.

“Persephone,” she called, and Persephone blinked out of her musings and glanced up. “How are things looking up here? Oh wow, you got through more cages than I thought you would.”

Persephone smiled. “I have experience.” Cleaning cages wasn’t exactly the same as mucking out stables, but the work ethic required was the same.

Persephone yawned and swiped at her forehead with her arm.

“Aw, you look tired. I hope you’re taking off early to head home and get some rest.”

Persephone shook her head. “Not quite. Hades is taking me out to a friend’s restaurant.”

Hecate’s easy expression dropped and her eyebrows furrowed. “I worry about you, honey. Are you sure things aren’t moving too quickly with that man?”

Persephone smiled at the older woman. ‘That man’ treated her like a queen. He could have anyone, and he looked at Persephone like she was the only woman in the world. She still didn’t understand it, why he’d chosen her. But he had and that was all that mattered.

Persephone knew Hecate felt a matronly affection for her but, it wasn’t necessary. “I’m a big girl. I know what I’m doing.”

Hecate didn’t look convinced. “Did you see today’s paper?”

Persephone frowned. “No,” she said, but Hecate was already holding out the paper she’d had under her arm.

“I was using the paper to line the cages and the headline caught my eye. How well do you really know him?”

Persephone stared down at the New Olympian Times. Known Crime Boss Surfaces at Club. The picture was grainy, but she’d recognize Hades anywhere.

Persephone averted her eyes from the paper and scrubbed violently at the corner of the cage for a moment while she tried to gather her thoughts.

Crime boss.

Was it true?

But then she thought of how Hades was treated everywhere they went. The bowed heads, the fearful, surreptitious glances. The power she knew he wielded, even if she hadn’t understood why. And the darkness in him. If she was being honest, she’d suspected it was something like this, hadn’t she? But being honest with herself wasn’t her forte lately.

Because what she was feeling wasn’t surprise. It was the queasy uneasiness of confirmation. She’d never asked Hades too closely about his business because she hadn’t wanted to know.

But here it was in black and white. Printed on the front page.

She glanced back at the paper Hecate was still holding out and her eyes skimmed the first paragraph. They called Hades the Lord of the Underworld. She looked away again but Hecate obviously wasn’t going to drop the issue so easily.

“How well do you know him?” she asked again.

Persephone stopped scrubbing and tossed the sponge back into the bucket of soapy water. She scooted out of the cage and pulled off her second glove, then pushed back wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail.

“He’s a good man, Hecate.”

She pulled the newspaper out of Hecate’s hands and tossed it to the floor of the cage she’d cleaned. She liked Hecate; she really did. They’d hit it off ever since she’d come in to volunteer, but Persephone didn’t need another mother trying to tell her what she could and couldn’t do.

Still, she respected Hecate. She was nothing like Persephone’s real mother. She wasn’t pushy or overbearing and it was unfair to lump the two into the same category, so Persephone reached out and squeezed the older woman’s hand.

“Trust me,” Persephone said. “The paper always sensationalizes things. Hades is a good man.” She didn’t know what else to say, but of that she was sure. He was good.

Hecate looked unconvinced but she nodded and squeezed Persephone’s hand in return. “Promise me you won’t let yourself get swallowed up in him. You left home to find yourself and be free of your family.” Persephone had told Hecate a truncated version of why she’d left home, and she nodded at Hecate’s assessment. “So don’t let him steamroll over you. There’s no need to rush things. And if you ever need help, remember you can always come to me.”

Persephone smiled in appreciation at her friend’s concern. After months in the city, she did count this woman as a friend, the first she’d made apart from Hades. Did it say something about her that the two people she’d gotten close to were both over a decade her senior, and with Hecate make that two decades? Her mom had always said she had an old soul.

“All right,” Persephone dusted off her jeans as she stood up. “I have to go. I’ll see you on Thursday.”

Hecate nodded and Persephone headed for the bathroom. She changed quickly out of her work clothes and into a clingy black dress with a daring slit up the thigh. She put on some mascara and lip-gloss, and headed to the front, which was a little shop for pet goods.

Charon was waiting. “Miss Vestian,” he said, holding open the door for her.

Hades worked so much, she only got to see him every few days. But whenever they were together, it was like no time at all had passed. They picked up right where they’d left off.

Charon drove her to the club where she’d met Hades the very first night. Walking the steps she’d run down so fearfully gave her the oddest sense of déjà vu. She could remember the fear so vividly.

Charon pushed through the door at the bottom of the stairs and held it open for her. She swallowed. It was just the echo of that fear that was giving her goosebumps right now. It had nothing to do with the newspaper article. Right? Right. She took a deep breath and followed Charon through the door.

She walked back to Hades’s office, knocked lightly, and pushed the door open. And immediately relaxed upon seeing Hades’s familiar and beloved face.

He kept his office so dark his face was as shadowed as it had been the first night she’d met him, all hard lines and harsh angles. But that was the air that Hades liked to project, wasn’t it? He was cold and scary to everyone but her.

...or was she just deluding herself? Was she actually special? When it came down to it, how well did she really know Hades? She knew how he made her feel, but that wasn’t quite the same thing.

“Hi,” she said shyly.

His head came up from the papers he was looking over and he paused, obviously taking her in. He did that fairly often, unabashedly checking her out and if the heated look in his eyes was anything to go by, appreciating what he saw.

He pushed his chair back from the desk and held out an arm for her, beckoning her closer.

She went. As she crossed behind his desk and stopped in front of him, she saw how tired he actually looked.

“Long day?” she asked, and he didn’t reply, simply put his hands on her hips and pushed her back so that she was leaning on the desk. He gripped her hips and squeezed them, digging his thumbs in and massaging her flesh. The touch was so presumptuous and possessive, all the air fled Persephone’s lungs in one great gasp.

Hades looked up at her and she couldn’t read what she saw in his storm grey eyes. “Sweet Persephone, so innocent,” he whispered. He bowed his forehead against her middle. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him, his face still flush with her stomach.

Her hands dropped to his hair. He hugged her with the desperation of a little boy holding onto a blanket for comfort.

Was that what she was for him—a place he could finally relax and find comfort? The thought sent an elated zing down her spine. How she would love to be this complicated man’s safe place. She stroked his hair, down to his neck, massaging his shoulders, before her fingers drifted back to his hair, and he clutched her tighter.

The New Olympian Times stuck out from underneath the papers he’d been looking at. Had he been upset by the newspaper? Because maybe they’d gotten it all wrong and it was slander and?—

“All right, we need to get going.” Hades pulled back and if she’d expected to see his features soft or tender, she was disappointed. He looked as calm and cool as ever.

Persephone frowned, but he was already standing and taking her arm to lead her out to the car.

Hades never liked to talk much when they were in the car. He always had Charon put on classical music and Persephone got the feeling it was the one time in his busy day where he got to just sit peacefully and relax. He rarely pulled out his phone to check emails or take calls. He simply sat, sometimes with his eyes closed, most of the time just watching the city streets going by, often taking her hand like he did today. He rubbed circles back and forth with his thumb and she couldn’t deny that the rhythmic motion along with the music was relaxing, to the point of being hypnotic.

Persephone was tempted to let the relaxation of the moment and Hades’s touch soothe her fears. But she kept hearing Hecate’s voice in the back of her head: How well do you really know him?

And it erupted out of her: “I saw the paper today. It scared me, Hades.”

He immediately went tense and pulled his hand back from hers.

“Please, Hades. Will you tell me what’s going on? Is it…is it true?”

“You don’t want to know,” he said. She took a deep breath and turned to look at him, forcing herself to wait for an answer even though she could see a glint of anger in his eyes. After a moment, something like a smile quirked his lips, though the coldness didn’t leave his face.

“But you’re my girl, so I’ll tell you.”

She waited through a long pause for him to continue.

“Couple of weeks back, two friends of mine decided to go in on a club. They bought the old theater, renamed it, set it up real nice. Big project like that, they needed some help. I helped them.”

He paused again as if wondering how much he should share with her.

“But rumors were circling—you know, people talk. Someone thinks something’s up, and the press hooks on it like it’s the only story in town. There were stories going around even before the place opened. Then last night,” a large sigh, “the press showed up.”

She waited a moment after he stopped. “And?”

“They took pictures and jumped to conclusions. They slandered my friends and tried to shut them down. And, because they can print whatever trash they want,” his jaw went hard, “it got smeared on the front page. All my friends wanted to do was open a club. Whose business is it how they run it? And the stuff they said—drugs and dirty money—none of that’s been proven. Those accusations belong in court. To slap it on a front page to sell papers—that’s what’s illegal.”

From where she sat, Persephone could feel him getting angrier, though his voice never rose. She could feel it through the small distance between them, waves of cold fury, kept tightly clenched under his suit and silken tie.

“It’s one thing to come after me directly. It’s another to use my friends.” He stared forward at the rearview mirror; his and Charon’s eyes met there.

The car glided through the streets. The windows were thick, keeping out sound, so it seemed silent, apart from the brooding classical music. Persephone studied Hades’s face, afraid of what she saw there. He was distant, cold.

Without thinking, she shivered, and with a murmur—“You okay, babe?”—he put his arm around her, and they rode on with the heavy weight across her shoulders.

And, though the questions screamed inside her—who are you? Is that really all there is to it? What do you mean, you ‘helped’ your friends?—she found she couldn’t say any more.

So deep was the silence, it took them both a moment to realize the car had stopped.

Charon opened the door and she found herself looking up at a tall building, with many stairs leading up to its large doors.

“Go on.” Hades pushed her gently, and she dutifully climbed out.

“Is this the restaurant?” she asked, teeth chattering with a sudden cold wind. Hades, having stopped to speak with Charon, came and took her under his arm and coat jacket, ushering her forward.

He gave her an enigmatic smile as they went up the steps. She could barely see beyond his sheltering arms as he pushed open the doors.

As soon as they stepped inside, humid heat rolled over Persephone, lapping at her arms and face like an ocean wave. It was completely dark, though. But Persephone relaxed anyway, walking into the darkness without being afraid. Hades was at her side.

“What is this place?” she breathed.

A flashlight switched on, and the beam danced over palms and ferns, flowers and green—a whole host of growing things, sheltered in the building of glass.

“A greenhouse!” she cried, and Hades chuckled as he came forward to show her around. They traipsed the narrow paths and found their way through the dark with only his single flashlight.

How did he know that this was exactly what she’d needed? As much as she admired the city, sometimes it got to be oppressive—so much concrete, pavement, brick, and steel, block after block in all directions. She missed growing things. She missed being able to walk out her front door and touch the earth, smell the soil, and watch the sun rise in the big open sky.

She held out her arms and laughed as her hands brushed the beckoning soft branches and leaves.

She squinted. “I see something up ahead.” She dropped her arms and pressed forward.

Hades obligingly followed with the light, until they pushed past one great frond and found a little table and some wine, lit by a silver candelabra. Going around her, he pulled out one of the chairs.

“Welcome to paradise, goddess.”

Speechless, she sat quietly while he poured the champagne, and took a glass.

“A toast,” he said, “to our new favorite place.”

She couldn’t help it; she laughed. His eyes sparkled over the glass as he drank first. She was still waiting, wide eyed, when he finished. He toyed with his glass before placing it down decisively.

“You aren’t like any other woman I’ve dated.”

“Oh?” she asked. He came over to her, and she looked up at him, heart beating so rapidly she lifted a hand to her chest like that might slow it down. Would he kiss her again? Every time he did was so overwhelming and exquisite, she thought she might die of the pleasure.

“When I first saw you, angel,” he said, “I knew you would be my wife.”

Persephone lost her breath for the second time that night. He— He did? His wife?

Her mind was racing a million miles a minute as he came near her and cupped her cheek.

“So lovely, so innocent. You are exactly what I’ve been looking for and didn’t even know it.” He knelt down before her on one knee. “I need you to be mine, Persephone.” He reached into his pocket, keeping his eyes on hers.

What was happening? This couldn’t be happening. Oh gods, was this happening?

“Hades?” she started to ask, but he opened the jewelry box, and she found she couldn’t speak.

It was a ring. It was a freaking ring!

“Marry me,” he said, smiling at her shock.

“Oh, Hades,” she mouthed. Her breath was gone; she was mute. Instead, she reached forward to touch the ring. The metal was silver colored, but she knew it would be white gold. There were tiny diamonds, cut to sparkle. But the main gem was red. Mesmerized, she realized he was speaking.

“I almost got you a diamond, a real nice rock. But you look so good in red.” He looked at her suddenly in such a way that she blushed. She leaned back in her chair, away from both him and the ring, hoping she could hide the fear that had pierced through her.

There was a darkness in Hades. She still believed what she’d told Hecate earlier this afternoon. Hades was a good man, but there was a darkness in him. Was she really ready to commit her life to a man she knew so little about? He was careful around her, showing her only the parts of himself he wanted her to see.

“So?” he prompted, after a moment of silence.

“What if I’m not ready?” She didn’t know where the words came from. Dark fire flashed through Hades’s eyes, but otherwise he hid his frustration well. “It’s just so soon,” she hurried to say. “We’ve only known each other a couple of months.”

“I think you’re ready,” he said and he stood up, towering over her, until he drew her to her feet. He moved his face close, as if he would kiss her, and she was frozen, watching his lips, “I think you want to say yes.”

And then he did kiss her. “Say yes,” he murmured while his lips played over her skin, kissing down her throat in the most delicious way. “Say yes.”

She closed her eyes, wound her arms around his neck, and like always when it came to Hades, gave in.

“Yes,” she whispered in the darkness. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Even as he smiled and kissed her, though, a small, worried voice piped up in the back of her mind. The setting was romantic, yes. The ring was beautiful. He’d expressed more of his feelings tonight than she’d ever heard from him before.

But he hadn’t said a single thing about love.