Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

P ersephone

"So, essentially, you want a maid?" I'm dumbstruck. When I came here, I never imagined the job he would offer me would be this .

"No. I have a maid." There is a shimmer in his eyes, a cock of his lips that suggests there's a joke in what he says next. "What I need is a wife."

"A w—" He has to be joking. I inhale a sharp breath through my nose and repeat more calmly, "A wife?"

"Without the legal documents." His eyes flicker with devious intention. He teases, "Unless you're interested, of course?"

My mouth falls open.

His lifts into a devilish smirk.

My eyes narrow and my hands find my hips. He seems to find this amusing, and it only serves to add a splash of gasoline to the fire he's set to burn inside me. I demand, "Are you playing with me?"

"I'm not known to play, Persephone."

"I don't understand." I shake my head dubiously. "You want me to do your laundry and pick up after you and coo?—"

"As I said, I have a maid. She handles my laundry and the keeping of my private space."

Exasperation balloons inside my chest. I release it in a big breath. "Then what do you want from me?"

"As I said, I am aware that you have other obligations, what with your explorations into a career in archaeology. I can and will accommodate your prior commitments. What I need from you, what I am asking of you, is your time."

"My time?"

"As I explained, I would like you to come here after your days spent—digging. You said you can cook." I nod when he waits for confirmation. "I would like you to cook for me."

I don't understand why my heart is bludgeoning the cage of my chest. It's a simple conversation. A prospective position with a man any girl would be happy with. I mean to work for. Dang it.

"Every night?"

"Preferably. Unless you're demanding a night off."

I laugh, because this man . "Everyone needs a night off."

I swear his dark eyes twinkle. "Then we'll order in on your night off."

I'm speechless for an entire minute before I say exasperatedly, "I'll need a night off from you, Hades. To be alone. To explore the city. To hang out with friends. This is, technically, my second job, remember?"

His grin is slow. "Of course."

"So, that's all you want? Someone to cook for you?" Why doesn't the man have a chef?

"No. I want you to share the meals with me. I want you to spend time with me in the evenings, listen to me talk and talk in return. I want conversation and connection. And, occasionally, I would require you to accompany me to events I am unable to avoid, as my date."

"But we won't be dating. I won't sleep with you for money, Hades."

"I would never pay you to sleep with me, Persephone. I can assure you that sex is not something I am hard done by."

Not sex, I think sadly, a little stung for reasons I can't explain. Just human connection.

The man is, essentially, paying me to be his friend. His companion. Someone trustworthy enough to bring into his life as he might a wife, without the wifely benefits, of course.

It's devastating, really, if you think about it. He's so obviously wealthy, possessing so much , that he can't even trust the validity of a relationship. He's so extremely wealthy, so guarded and obviously used by those around him, that rather than sift through those truly and honestly available to him, he's hiring a fabricated version of the thing he desires.

He is lonely, I realize. The man has everything, and yet he is emotionally starved.

"Okay, so you want me to come here every day after my studies to cook, share dinner with you, tidy up and leave?"

His eyes bore into mine, and for a moment, I stop breathing. "I would like it if you were live-in."

"Live in?" I parrot dumbly. This just keeps getting weirder, like I've stepped into the Twilight Zone.

His lips twitch. "I like breakfast, too."

"You like—" I pause, inhale, and ask calmly, "Hades, it sounds like you need a cook."

He laughs. The sound is rich and unexpected and decadent. It touches me so deep inside, like a match to the marrow of my bones.

I'm struck breathless, immovable.

"You will share breakfast with me. I would like for it to feel natural between us. Friendly."

And we circle back to that. His need for companionship that is so out of touch for him, he's sought someone to hire to fulfill that need. A basic need no one should ever have to pay for.

I feel like a con artist for considering agreeing to this.

"Why me, Hades?"

He considers for a moment while I hold my breath in my lungs. "You are real and honest. Within minutes of meeting you, you admitted to me that you are crazy."

The breath bursts from my lungs on an abrupt laugh. "You want me as your companion because I told you I was a lunatic?"

"As I said, you're honest."

I shake my head, stupefied. "Hades, this is insane."

"What do you need to feel comfortable with this arrangement?" He stands from behind his desk, stalking closer to me until there are only inches between us. The scent of him, woodsmoke and sin and earth and something foreign surrounds me, scattering rational thoughts.

"I want to keep my room at the house, in case anything goes wrong."

"Done."

"I am supposed to get Saturdays and Sundays off. This week was funny with the schedule," I explain my odd days off. "It was the first week, and a little wacky. But I want at least one of those days to myself." He nods agreeably. "And this is a strictly professional arrangement, Hades. I'm serious when I said I won't sleep with you."

He assures, "I will have a room made up for you that is all your own."

I nibble my lips, feeling more than a little nervous and a lot uncertain. "Okay. I guess—I guess I'm working for you."

He smiles like a devil that just struck a deal for my soul.

I'm not altogether certain he didn't.