7

7

Cassandra

It’s so easy to be with Apollo. I don’t know why that surprises me, but I think I’d convinced myself that he was a different person outside the office. He must be. I’ve encountered his family from time to time over the years—first his parents before my parents were murdered, and more recently his shit show of a little brother, Orpheus. They are not good people. Oh, Orpheus might manage it one day if he pulls his head out of his ass long enough to look around and realize that in Olympus, beautiful tortured artists are a dime a dozen. The only reason he gets away with his bad behavior is because of who he’s related to.

And Apollo recently stopped taking his calls.

But the man sitting next to me, his thigh a distracting weight against mine? He should be the worst of the worst. He’s reached the pinnacle of power within the city. He should be abusing it left and right, at least according to the actions of the other members of the Thirteen. If he’d been one of the Thirteen when my parents attempted to assassinate Athena, he would have been part of their murder and subsequent cover-up.

Instead, he keeps sneaking glances at me throughout dinner as if he feels fortunate to share a meal with me.

It’s fake. I know it’s fake. One doesn’t grow up within this city without developing a boatload of coping mechanisms, chief among them learning to craft a public persona. This is Apollo’s. He doesn’t bother with it in the office unless he has meetings with certain people, and I’ve never been in public with him before. That’s all.

Still, it makes me feel strange.

Dinner is, of course, a masterpiece in culinary arts. My meal is nearly better than sex—or at least the sex I’ve been having for the last couple years. I can’t help moaning a little bit with each bite. And the expensive wine he chose pairs so well…

This is how it could have been.

I shut the thought down. It’s a little more difficult to do than normal, probably due to the amazing food. It’s almost worth getting gawked at by everyone around us, most of whom are not even trying to be subtle. I even catch the lady above us snapping a picture with her phone. Classy. No food, no matter how mind-blowing, is worth living like this. Still, it’s not a terrible evening.

And then the show starts.

The lights dim so slowly, I almost don’t notice it. Not until it’s dark enough that I’m left blinking at my plate. “This food is going to end up all over my dress.”

Apollo’s low chuckle makes my body go tight. It vividly reminds me of how he looked at me outside the restaurant, his dark eyes hot. It was…desire. I’m almost sure of it. Except even as I remember the expression on his face, my brain offers up half a dozen different alternatives that make more sense than Apollo wanting me.

I’m no slouch, but I’m hardly Ares or Aphrodite.

“Cassandra.” He leans in, his voice low and intimate. “You’re thinking so hard, you’re going to miss the show.”

My gaze tracks to the center stage, now being lit by a watery mix of blue and green and pale, pleasing light. The stage itself is maybe six inches taller than our table, but it’s empty. I glance at Apollo, only to find his face far too close to mine. I don’t jerk back, but it’s a near thing. He smiles and tips his chin upward.

I follow the motion…and gasp.

Above us, a naiad swims through the air. Oh, my brain is already picking apart the magic of the moment, pinpointing the wires attached to a clever harness on her hips and tail that keeps her aloft. But it doesn’t change the fact that with the light and her sinuous movement, she appears to be swimming as she slowly descends from the darkness of the ceiling toward the platform.

A second naiad joins her in the air. They spiral and seem to dance together, and I can’t quite figure out how they don’t end up entangled in each other’s wires, but it’s so beautiful, I don’t care about the logistics. The show ends far too soon, and I press my hands to my thighs, forcing down an instinctive reaction to turn to Apollo and ask when we can do this again.

We won’t have the chance to. This is our public fake date to convince people it’s not strange for us to show up at a weeklong party together. There will be no second dates, no return trips to the Dryad.

I find it best not to want things that aren’t meant for me, but it’s still a strangely bitter pill to swallow. I take a slow breath, and then another. When I turn back to Apollo, he’s watching me instead of the retreating naiads. “What?” I press my hand to my face. “Do I have something in my teeth?”

“No.” He doesn’t elaborate, though. He simply picks up a small menu that wasn’t on our table at the start of the show. “Dessert?”

I hesitate and then curse myself for hesitating. I made a big show of putting him in his place at the beginning of this, and now I’m going to let insecurity deprive me of the chocolate cake I saw delivered to a nearby table before the show? No. Absolutely not.

I lift my chin. “Yes, please.”

“Apollo!” The boisterous call comes from the stairs, where a large man with light-brown skin and a head full of striking gray hair is making his way down to us. Even without Apollo murmuring in my ear, I recognize Minos. He’s been all over the gossip sites in the last two weeks. He’s an attractive man in a brutal sort of way. I saw how the Minotaur wielded that giant sword in the competition for Ares. I bet he learned the skill from his foster father. Minos moves the same way Athena, Ares, and Zeus do: like he’s got combat training.

He finally reaches our table and gives a charming smile. “Quite the show, wasn’t it?”

“Pan offers premier entertainment,” Apollo says neutrally. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Very much so.” Minos glances up into the darkness of the ceiling. “I’d pay good money to know how they pulled it off without crashing into each other.”

It’s nothing more than I already thought, and he hadn’t done anything wrong during this short interaction, but something about this man raises the small hairs on the back of my neck. As far as I know, we haven’t confirmed him as an enemy of Olympus, so it might just be that he reminds me a bit of the last Zeus with his boisterous charm and steamrolling attitude. It might be…but I’ve survived this long by trusting my instincts and they’re saying this man is dangerous.

Of course he is. Everyone in Olympus with a smidge of power is dangerous. Minos has gathered more than a smidge since he arrived and started making waves.

He turns back to us with an easy chuckle. “I hear you’ll be bringing a guest to the party next week.” He focuses on me for what appears to be the first time since he arrived at our table. It’s not quite a lecherous look, but there’s interest in his dark eyes that sets my teeth on edge. “Pretty thing, aren’t you? I didn’t know you were dating anyone, Apollo.”

“Minos.” Apollo’s voice doesn’t go tight, but he places his hand on my thigh. Just like that, I’m not thinking about Minos at all. My brain kind of…blips. Apollo keeps speaking as if he’s not branding me right through the thin fabric of my dress. “This is my girlfriend, Cassandra. Our relationship is a recent development we kept under wraps for obvious reasons. You’ve tasted what the gossip sites are like in the city.”

Minos grins. “Relentless.”

“Exactly. Cassandra, this is our newest Olympian, Minos. He’s…not from around here.”

Minos booms out a laugh. “Not by a long shot.” He holds out a broad hand. “Nice to meet you, Cassandra.”

I gingerly place my hand in his, trying not to tense when he brushes a perfectly polite kiss to my knuckles. Pan did the same thing when we came into the restaurant, but it didn’t give me the same reaction. His flirting felt harmless.

There’s nothing harmless about Minos.

He releases my hand and turns that charming smile on Apollo. “Look forward to seeing you at the party.”

“The feeling is entirely mutual.”

Minos heads for the stairs and ascends to the third level, returning to an empty seat at a large table. I can see it from my position without craning my neck. I recognize Theseus and the Minotaur—what kind of name is that, anyway? There are another three people at the table, but they’re sitting too far back in the shadows to get a good look. “Does Minos have a wife? Other children?” I don’t think his foster sons have wives. If they do, they’ve kept the women out of the public eye since arriving because while both men have been photographed a number of times in the last few weeks, they’ve never been seen with anyone.

“No wife. A daughter and a son. They also have another woman in their party, but I’m not certain of her connection. She’s not another daughter, though.”

“I see.” I drop my gaze to Apollo. He’s still relaxed and smiling, but there’s new tension around his dark eyes. “You really don’t like him, do you?”

“I don’t know nearly enough about him.”

From Apollo, that’s saying something. He knows everything about everyone. It’s literally his job. It speaks volumes that there’s nothing to find when it comes to Minos. I’m sure it feels like failure, and Apollo is not one to tolerate that. At least when it comes to himself.

He has a lot more grace when it’s someone on his team who’s come up short.

I open my mouth to attempt something reassuring, but then I register that he still has his hand on my thigh. It’s…a nice hand. Everything about Apollo is nice. He’s not massive by any means, but I’ve seen him haul around large boxes as if it’s nothing, so he stays in shape. His hand is graceful, long fingered with perfectly maintained nails.

Even as I tell myself I’m being ridiculous, I know I’ll feel the imprint of his fingers tattooed on my skin for hours afterward. It’s all too easy for my imagination to take hold, to fill in the blanks of what it would feel like if he slid his hand higher, if he curved his fingers around to my inner thigh, if he—

“Cassandra.”

I lift my gaze from his hand to his face. I don’t know what my expression is doing, but he narrows his eyes and his tension bleeds away, replaced by…heat? His fingers pulse on my thigh. I feel that pulse all the way to my pussy, as if he skated his touch up to cup me there. I shiver. What did he say? My name? I lick my lips, achingly aware of the way his eyes follow the movement. “Yes?”

“Are they watching?”

I tuck my hair behind my ears, using the move to check. It seems like everyone is watching. “Yes.”

He sighs. “Of course they are.” Again, his fingers pulse on my thigh. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

His resignation almost makes me laugh. Or it would if a pit hadn’t just opened up in my stomach. Of course he’s not kissing me because he wants to; it’s all part of the roles we’re playing. “Just like that.”

“Just like that.” But Apollo doesn’t move. He’s still searching my face for answers I’m not sure I have. This is all pretend. It will continue being pretend for the next week or so. I’ve kissed people I like less than Apollo. I don’t know if I’ve kissed anyone that I like more.

I’m still processing that thought when he leans forward. “If you’re not comfortable—”

My body overrides my still-spinning-out mind. I grab his tie and tug him down, lifting my face to meet his. To his credit, his surprise doesn’t last long. He slips his free hand along my jaw to cup my head. At first, it’s barely a kiss. His lips brush mine, perfectly polite and barely worth noting. Except it’s Apollo and he’s kissing me.

His grip tightens ever so slightly on my thigh and a shaky exhale ghosts against my lips. For a moment, I think that’s it. He’s kissed me. Everyone watching has seen it. We’ve accomplished what we set out to do.

But it doesn’t stop there.

He only pulls away enough to adjust his angle and then his mouth reclaims mine. I don’t intend to open for him…I don’t think. Everything is a little hazy, my brain misfiring because Apollo is kissing me. And then his tongue slides against mine and I can’t think of anything at all. He keeps it light, teasing kisses that make my head spin and my body pulse, but nothing so deep that I’m swept away.

I should have known. Apollo is focused and intentional about every single thing he does. Of course he’d bring both those traits to a kiss—to more. I try to keep my thoughts in order, but I’m swept away as he releases my thigh long enough to grip my chair and tug me an inch closer. It plasters us together from knee to hip and I shiver. We’re fully clothed and sitting in the middle of a crowded restaurant, but I’m having trouble remembering why I can’t climb onto his lap.

Just when I’m about to forget myself entirely, he finally lifts his head, breaking the kiss gently. I actually start to lean forward before reality slams into me.

This is pretend. We were putting on a show. Even if it wasn’t, I would rather fling myself into oncoming traffic than give all these assholes even more to gossip about.

A deeply satisfied smile pulls at Apollo’s lips. “Now. I think it’s time for dessert.”