Chapter 4 RÓISE

My heart is beating so hard it hurts.

Waiting in line to be admitted to a club in a city with no mafia or mob presence, I rub damp palms down the short black skirt of my dress.

I'm dressed for the part I'm playing tonight: young, twenty-something, looking for an anonymous one-night stand.

No mob princess here.

I let one of the makeup artists in my acting seminar do my face. With the dramatic makeup bringing out the green in my eyes and contoured to make my cheekbones pop, even I don't recognize myself.

She also put me in a platinum blonde wig so tightly attached to my head that if I yank on it, it won't budge. I tried.

This chick knows what she's doing.

Silver strappy stiletto sandals add three inches to my five-feet-four inches. My tight black dress lifts my boobs and creates cleavage, making my breasts look bigger than they are. Which is necessary.

The hem hits high on my thighs, adding to my persona for the night. And bonus? My stubby legs look borderline long and sleek.

Although I drugged my security detail and left them sleeping peacefully at the hotel…what? I didn't hurt them. They're fine. Just…tired. And unlikely to remember anything tomorrow morning.

But seriously, I can't afford to be recognized while I'm out on my mission to choose my first sex partner. For his sake as much…or yeah, let's face it, or definitely more than for mine. No one can ever know who he is .

Mafia men make Cro-Magnon man seem advanced in certain ways.

I mean, I wouldn't even take the risk if I wasn't on the other side of the country from my family right now. This acting seminar in Portland, Oregon is part of my Fine Arts program and has been on the calendar since September.

Lucky for me, the timing is perfect for my plan to take back a tiny slice of control over my life and person.

The fact Uncle Brogan would have an aneurism if he knew? Totally a bonus.

The doorman gives my fake I.D. a once over before letting me inside without a word. I immediately head to the bar for some liquid courage. I wish I could have invited one or all of my classmates to come with me tonight.

There's security in numbers, but no one can know what I'm doing, or who I do it with.

Waiting for the bartender to mix my Manhattan feels right. In a few months, maybe a year? Wow, how do I not know the timing on this marriage thing? Anyway, sometime in the near future I'll be moving to Manhattan, territory for the Genovese mafia.

The bartender hands me my drink, but someone bumps me from behind and it spills all over the bar. Some of the amber liquid splashes back on me.

Feeling good about choosing an LBD for tonight's adventure, I take the stack of napkins the bartender offers me and start patting at the wet spots almost invisible against the black fabric.

"Let me buy you another. I didn't mean to bump into you like that." The deep voice cuts through the loud music and sends French love poems floating through my brain.

I turn to face the man.

Taller than me, with muscles his suit jacket can't hide, the gorgeous guy smiles. "Things can get rowdy in here on a Friday night."

"That's okay." I smile back at him through my lashes.

Flirting already. Go me.

He puts his hand out. "Helios."

"Helios? The ancient Greek god of the sun?" I ask.

"Well, I'm not ancient, but I am Greek," he says suggestively.

Is Greek a euphemism for sexy? Because I'm thinking yes.

"Should I call you Aphrodite?" There's definitely a suggestion in his voice now, but it's got nothing to do with wanting to know my name.

Anonymous sex. That's what I'm here for, right? "Yes."

Perfect white teeth slash in a smile on his swarthy face .

"Helios, tell your brother I'll see him tomorrow." The man who arrives to stand beside me is even taller than Helios, with short black hair and a magnetism that sends my nether regions into pulsing awareness. "I've got things to do."

Dark eyes in a mature face skim over me with interest. But…there's a tall, slender brunette hanging on his arm.

His things to do ?

Something twinges in my chest. Disappointment? Nah. I shouldn't have had the Szechwan shrimp for dinner. Too much spice.

Helios salutes the other man. "Will do."

With a nod, but no more words, the man and his date turn to go.

Helios tries to take the napkins from my hand. "Let me help you."

"So, your name really is Helios?" I bat his hand away with a laugh.

"That's me, the sun god," Helios says with a smile.

For some reason, French love poems are making my ovaries yawn now.

"He doesn't look like the kind of guy who goes for short and fat," the brunette says loud enough to be heard over the music as she and the black-haired hottie walk away. "She doesn't even have impressive tatas to make up for it."

Heat crawls up my neck and into my face. For a second, before I remind myself that shallow and bitchy doesn't get to ruin my night, my body freezes.

A lot of women my size wear at least a D cup. I'm barely a C. I've never been naked with a man, so I don't know how a lover will react to my attributes. I'm planning to find out tonight though.

And I'm not worried about it. I'm not looking to be some man's dream girl. Just his sex partner.

Helios laughs. "Ignore her. I enjoy women of all shapes and sizes. If she's only been with men who don't, that's her loss."

"Sure." There's still a tiny part of me that feels small from the meanness.

Not what she said so much as why she felt the need to say it. To put me down. If she was annoyed her date looked at me with interest, she could have left me out of it.

Whatever her reasons, I don't need shallow and bitchy adding to the nerves jumping to a Zydeco beat inside me.

What I do need, I realize, is time to psyche myself into hooking up with a complete stranger.

I throw the wadded-up napkins on the counter. "I'm going to dance."

"I insist you allow me to replace your lost drink." Helios grabs my arm, before I can walk away.

Why not? Liquid courage sounds better than ever.

I nod .

He makes a gesture to the bartender.

"After you enjoy the best Manhattan west of the Rockies, we can dance." Helios smiles down at me.

Those French love poems are sounding more and more like a lullaby, sending my ovaries to sleep.

"Not best in the country?" I tease, reaching for that initial spark that went out without even leaving a puff of smoke behind.

"I only care about being better than our sister clubs in California." He winks. "Don't really care about clubs on the East Coast."

He consigns the Midwest and the South to nonexistence in his drinks competition. Interesting.

A server comes rushing up and asks something in urgent tones. There's no disappointment in me when Helios grimaces ruefully.

"Duty calls. Maybe we can catch that dance later, Aphrodite" he offers.

I shrug noncommittally.

"She'll be busy." It's the guy with the rude date.

But the brunette is gone and the dark-eyed hottie is looking at me so intently, I worry one of my fake eyelashes is falling off.

Helios says something in a language I don't understand. Probably Greek. The language might be indecipherable to me, but the tone is easy to interpret.

He's swearing.

The older man…he's at least thirty, I'm sure of it…maneuvers his big body between me and Helios. My ovaries wake up like they just got a caffeine I.V. and butterflies start doing the mamba in my stomach, drowning out the Zydeco beat of my nerves.

I take a big gulp of my drink.

He smiles, the expression not reaching his dark eyes. "I apologize for Lala. She would say she is sorry herself but she's no longer here."

There are people named Lala? Who knew?

"Okay. That's not sinister or anything. What did you do, play bouncer and kick her out?"

He shrugs his massive shoulders. "I told her I was no longer interested in fucking her."

"And she just left?" And also, why is he no longer interested in the other woman?

"As a friend of the owners, I could get her blacklisted from the club."

"You're a friend of the owners?" I ask.

"Friend might be stretching it, but she offended one of them already. I doubt they'd deny me. "

"You mean Helios?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Had Helios only been flirty because he made me spill my drink and he's ultra good at customer service?

"He called you Aphrodite."

I nod.

"Your name?" His confident demand for information draws me in a way none of the college age guys I see daily do.

I take another drink of my Manhattan and answer over the rim of the martini glass. "Tonight, it is."

"If you are Aphrodite tonight, then I will be Ares."

"Not Eros?"

He shakes his head decisively. "Eros was the god of carnal love, but Ares was Aphrodite's lover."

He was also the god of war. I can see this man in that role. He's big. Intense. Moves like a jungle cat and exudes an aura of power.

"Why not Adonis then?" It fits too. He's the most beautiful man I've ever met.

Including the gorgeous Helios.

"Ares is more fitting."

Because he was Aphrodite's lover? That sounds promising.

I know why I'm so up on the Greek gods and goddesses. Because a course in Greek Tragedy is part of my College of Fine Arts curriculum.

Why does this man know so much about them? I shove my curiosity into a dark closet and shut the door.

I'm not asking him.

Rule one in one-night stands to lose your virginity: don't get to know your sex partner.

Even if he's an intriguing older guy who sends alien sparks of want through your ladybits. Especially then.

That's how hookups work. Right?

If I'm wrong, I don't want to know. It's how it has to work for me. I can't let myself get to know him.

Whoa.

When did I decide he's going to be the guy to pop my cherry? Probably sooner than I should have. My ovaries cast their vote when I first heard his voice. Not French lullabies but deep, rich Jazz.

"Would you like to dance, Ares?" I ask in my best sexy-times-are-coming purr.

Which is a brand new voice element to my acting repertoire.

It must be on point because his dark eyes burn me up. "Yes."