Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

ATHENA

I pull into the long, curving driveway of a rundown Victorian manor. It was probably beautiful in its heyday, but I instantly hate everything about it. It’s like a decrepit, dirty version of the Olympus manor, our family home. I wonder if my mother picked them both, and they were to her taste and not my father’s. Or maybe he chose this place to make her feel like she was living in a lesser version of what she had?

Either way, it is a far cry from my sleek, modern penthouse in downtown Seattle. I live for the vibrant, clean, efficient vibe of the city. Not this slow, dusty, old-money energy of whatever HGTV show was about to show up and DIY this thing into this century.

I approach the door, each step creaking under my Jimmy Choos.

This is the Gothic monstrosity my mother hid in after she abandoned me? Why? What could this place possibly offer that is more important than me and her sons? Not that I will ever be able to find out. No mother-daughter union is in my future. She really is dead this time. Knocking on the door, I remind myself to be strong. To never show weakness. I am going to enter this house, maybe talk to a few people about my mother, see what information I can find. Maybe someone here knows why she left and remained hidden away this entire time.

“Yes, can I…” An older woman with gray hair tied in a tight bun and wearing a maid’s uniform opens the door and stares at me, her eyes getting enormous, then filling with tears. “Oh , you look just like?—”

“I’m Athena Godwin. I was hoping I could speak to someone about Freya Godwin?”

“I’m sorry to say she passed.” The old woman’s eyes fill with tears even more. “You’re too late.”

I’m late?

I’m the one late?

Rather than correcting her, or losing my shit, I say, “Yes, I have heard of her passing. I was hoping I could speak to someone who knew her. I have a few questions about Freya that I would like to be answered.”

Dear Lord, I hope this isn’t the only person here I’m able to speak with. Only one maid who, by the looks of the dirt and cobwebs on the front porch, isn’t very good at her job.

“Oh, you should speak to her son. Come in, come in. I will fetch him for you.” She grabs my arm and pulls me into the house.

Her son ?

What. The. Fuck?

Suddenly, I feel very self-conscious as we walk through the halls. It’s like my mother’s ghost is inside waiting. Her eyes on me are making my skin crawl, but I tighten my stomach and straighten my spine, just dealing with it. I have come here for answers, and I intend to get them.

“If you would like to take a seat in the library here.” The older woman places her hand on my elbow to guide me into the dusty room with bookshelves lining the walls and furniture made from wood and upholstered in velvet. “I’ll get Perseus.”

Without making a sound, she leaves the room. I have no idea what to do. This all feels so surreal. I feel like I am floating in a dream, and I am desperate to anchor myself to something real. Something in my life, not this weird alternate dimension where my mother was breathing only a month ago.

I grab my phone from my purse to call my father. I’m livid at his lies, but it’s not the first time he’s lied to me, and most definitely not the first time I’ve been pissed at the man. Maybe I can use that anger to center me.

“Athena. Where are you?” my father barks into the phone. “I’ve been looking for you all day.”

“Apparently, I am in the home of a ghost. You lied to me.”

“I don’t have time for your riddles. ”

“Okay, I’ll be blunt, Daddy. I know you lied about my mother committing suicide when I was fifteen. I want to know why.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m in her house! Standing in her library! So, for once in your life, stop lying to me.”

There’s a pause. No doubt my father is regaining his composure before he speaks. He’d never respond until the pitter patter of his heart is back to normal cadence.

“I didn’t lie. Your mother no longer wanted to be a Godwin. She chose to leave our family, so she was dead to us. Dead. The Godwin legacy comes first. It’s bigger than all of us. You know that.”

“Dead to us is not the same as dead,” I reply, biting the anger back. No doubt he knows how furious I am. There’s no telling who else is listening in, and there is no need for anyone else here to be privy to my emotions.

With a few steps, I move to the window and gaze out at the sprawling, unkempt grounds. This place is in desperate need of a gardener and a team of maintenance workers.

“So you refused to stop looking for her. I take it you found her?” he says in a low tone.

“I did,” I admit as I watch a stray cat slink across the overgrown grass to disappear into the shapeless shrubs. “I was too late, though. She died a month ago. I’m in her home now, hoping someone here can give me some details of what my ghost of a mother has been up to.”

I decide not to mention the apparent son my mother had. My father is a jealous, possessive man, and something like that is enough to set him off on a rampage. I don’t have the time to clean up after one of his tantrums, and he’ll probably destroy any chance I have at answers.

There’s a pause, and I wonder if my father is processing that his ex-wife is dead. Truly dead this time. Is he feeling any pain? Any sadness?

Doubtful.

“She left you just like she left me and your brothers. What more could you possibly want to know?” His words hurt more than I want to think about right now. I don’t understand the mix of feelings I’m having. I just know that I need to be here and face the truth, whatever that looks like.

“I’m here for answers that you could have given me and simply chose not to.” I turn away from the window just in time to see the most stunning man on the planet enter the library. I guess he is about my age, at least 6’4 with broad shoulders and light blond hair hanging down to his strong jaw and the coldest blue eyes on the planet. “I have to go. I’ll call you later, and when I do, I expect a different story to the history you wrote us.” I hang up the phone, not waiting for my father’s reply.

“Who the fuck are you?” He curls his lip in disgust, looking at me.

Oh, hell no. I don’t give a fuck how pretty this man is. No one talks to me like that.

“Athena Godwin. Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m Freya’s son.” His words come out between clenched teeth. “Her only child.”

“Well, buddy, looks like I have some news for you.”

I arch my eyebrow as I take a closer look at him. His frame is leaner than my brothers. His muscles are prominent but lean like a swimmer, not bulky like Phoenix and Apollo. He has darker, tanned skin. The Godwins all burn, then end up whiter than before. He looks nothing like me or my brothers. His eyes are the wrong shape, his nose too long, his cheekbones too high, and his hair is a striking almost white blond, not dark brown like everyone else in the family.

The only thing we have in common is the color of our eyes. But my mother’s eyes weren’t blue, like mine. I have my father’s eyes.

Freya Godwin had green eyes.

“Not only am I her daughter, but I have two brothers, and a deceased one. And I’m guessing you are about my age, so there is no way she could have been your mother.”

“You lie.”

“Frequently, about a lot of things when it suits me, but not this.” I cross my arms over my chest. “So, I’ll repeat. Who the fuck are you?”

“Perseus, Freya’s adopted son.” He pauses, studies me, and as if I have suddenly developed a stench, he grimaces. “You should leave. Now.” He leans over me like he’s trying to intimidate me. I usually hate it when men pull the macho crap or try to use their size and strength to cow me, but the heat rushing through my body isn’t anger. It’s desire.

He’s too good looking, and I hate him instantly for it.

“Not until I get what I am owed.”

He’s thrown off. I can see it all over his face. I’m a surprise to him, and though he’s struggling to not show his cards, his feelings are obvious to me. Mommy dearest clearly kept secrets from him, too.

“Owed? You want money? And you think I’m just going to let you come and take my inheritance?” His shapely lips twitch, and part of me wonders what they feel like when they aren’t twisted in distaste.

Now I hate him even more for having me think this way.

“You know what?” I put my hands on his firm chest and shove him back, getting him out of my personal space. His spicy sweet scent still lingers around me, but it’s a little less distracting. “All I wanted was answers. I just wanted to talk to some people that knew her. But now, I think I need to speak to the lawyer handling her estate. Question any will that gives her only heir an inheritance. Especially since you are not the only heir.”

“I told you to leave,” he growls before grabbing me by the throat and pushing me against the wall. He doesn’t squeeze, he just holds me there, pinning me to the wall with his hand and his body pressed against mine. “You don’t know who you are playing with.”

Most women would be terrified if they’re being threatened like this. Most…

I should be livid, but all I can think about is the way his lips are so close to mine. I can taste the mint toothpaste still on his breath. I can feel his heart pounding against mine.

His eyes darken as he leans in closer. “Leave now, and I won’t destroy you.”

“That was cute.” I give him my best condescending smile. It gets brighter as his brows furrow in confusion. “Threatening me was probably the dumbest thing you have ever done. And by looking at you, I would guess it was already a pretty impressive list of stupid shit.”

I grab one of his fingers from around my throat and pull it back, forcing him to release his grip or let me break it. Truthfully, he could have easily stopped me, but he is trying to intimidate me, not hurt me. Not yet, anyway.

“You don’t know who you are playing with,” he repeats.

I roll my eyes. “No, you don’t know who you are dealing with. This could have been easy, but now?” I push him back another step. “It’s going to be fun.”