6
Apollo
I arrive at the Dryad fifteen minutes early. Whether Cassandra admits it or not, she’s got to be nervous about dinner for a number of reasons. She’ll be thrust into the very pool of people she’s spent twelve years avoiding. Not to mention this is where our fake relationship either launches…or crashes and burns.
We should have done a dry run somewhere private. Except that’s not logical either, because despite working together for five years, we’ve never been properly alone. Even though no one works in our immediate area—the closest is Hector with his office down the hall—we’re not really isolated. Cassandra has skipped every work party and after-hours event. Not that I blame her, but I can’t help looking for her during the ones I’m obligated to attend.
Now we’re supposed to be dating.
I can’t believe I even suggested this plan, let alone allowed Zeus to bully his way into ensuring it happened after her initial refusal. My reputation is more pristine that some of my peers, but this will be a black mark for certain. Or, rather, it will be confirmation that I’m no better than the others. Dating my assistant? How cliché. The gossip magazines will be salivating at even the slightest hint of scandal.
It’s still less a price than I’m asking Cassandra to pay.
“Apollo?”
I turn…and freeze.
Cassandra stands a few feet away. She wears her hair like normal, an undisturbed glossy fall of deep red. Her hair always catches my eye first. I’m still not sure if it’s natural or not. I suppose it doesn’t matter.
I try to keep my gaze on her face, on her artfully smoky eyes and dark-red lips. Truly, I do. But even as I tell myself to stop it, I can’t help sweeping my gaze over her.
In all the time we’ve worked together, I’ve gotten used to Cassandra in a particular kind of clothing. Yes, she wears pencil skirts that hug her wide hips and big ass in a way that has inspired more fantasies than I care to admit. But she also trends toward high-necked frilly tops that might hint at her generous chest but never more than hint.
Her dress tonight is worlds different. It’s a dark gray that’s almost black, setting off her pale skin and highlighting her hair. It’s also got a deep V in the front that shows off more than a hint of cleavage. So much more than a hint. I can’t stop myself from following the line of the fabric to her waist, where it flares in folds that make her hips seem wider than normal before narrowing down to hug her calves. It’s got a slight split in the front, probably to allow her to walk. Red heels complete the look. With those heels on, she might reach past my shoulder. The thought makes my chest thump painfully.
“Apollo.” There’s something in her voice. Not her normal snark or dry wit. No, it’s almost panic.
Because I’m standing here, gawking at her like she’s an animal in a cage. I’m her boss and I’m ogling her and making her uncomfortable. I’m acting like an unforgivable jerk. I give myself a shake. “You look adequate.”
“Adequate.” She blinks. “Be sure to pass your thoughts along to Zeus when he sees the bill.”
Adequate. What am I saying? The dress is a masterpiece. I want to run my hands over it, following the folds. I want to kneel at her feet and start my way from the bottom. Or, better, start at the top. I want to peel the damn thing off her and…
I close my eyes, striving for focus. “You look lovely. I’m sorry. You caught me off guard.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment but thanks.”
I open my eyes to find her studying the restaurant behind me. She’s not worrying her bottom lip the way she does when she’s nervous, but it’s a near thing. “So I guess we’re doing this.”
“It’s not too late to change your mind.”
She sends me an arch look. “I’m sure Zeus would have something to say about that.”
Without a doubt, but I’d rather tangle with Zeus than put her in a position where she feels unsafe. “Let me handle Zeus.”
Cassandra studies me for a long moment and shakes her head, her mouth pulling into a wry smile. “No, Apollo. I said yes and I plan to hold him to his end of the bargain. I won’t give him reason to say I didn’t do what I promised. Let’s get these tongues wagging.”
I want to keep arguing, but we’re already drawing looks. It’s too late. She won’t change her mind, so the least I can do is make this as painless for her as possible. I turn smoothly and offer my arm. “Shall we?”
“By all means.” She places her hand gingerly in the crook of my arm.
I should leave it at that, but she’s right. If we’re going to do this, we need to sell it. “Cassandra,” I say softly. I wait for her to look up at me to continue. This close, her citrus scent threatens to derail my thoughts, but I power through. “You’ve seen me date other people.”
She’s smart. She connects the dots almost instantly. Her mouth goes tight and then relaxes into a surprisingly convincing smile. “Right. Sorry.” She takes a deep breath and leans in to me, shifting one hand up to cup my bicep and wrapping her free one around my forearm. The new position has her breasts pressing against my arm and my hand is far too close to the juncture of her thighs and…
I almost break away. I actually tense to put some distance between us before I remember that this is the whole point. I might not touch my employee like this, but I certainly would touch someone I was dating. More, I’m known for it. Not effusive public displays of affection, but the casual intimacy that lets everyone in the room know who this person is to me.
“Apollo?”
The faint concern in her tone grounds me. I manage a smile, give myself one last mental shake, and force myself to make the switch to my public persona. I’ve been Apollo long enough that I don’t have to bother playing games when I don’t want to, but old habits die hard. Before I held the title, I had to play harder than anyone. I can do so again.
I give Cassandra a charming grin and can’t help the slight vindication at the way she goes a little soft before she catches herself. If I tried to seduce this woman… Would she be just as sweet beneath the harsh exterior as I suspect? Would she go soft for me, let down her walls, and let me take care of her?
I’ll never know.
This isn’t real. It will never be real, because after Minos’s party has wrapped up, Cassandra will take her sister and leave Olympus once and for all. I’ll never see her again.
We walk through the doors of the Dryad, trading in the balmy August night for frigid air-conditioning. I’ve always liked this place. You get a sense of theater from the moment you arrive, the doors opening to a small landing space that leads to an arching bridge over a koi pond. There are rocks on either side with water trickling down them, the sound pleasing. It gives the impression of entering a grotto, and the rest of the restaurant only takes that flight of fantasy further.
It might be the spot to see and be seen after hours, but the owner keeps it from being absolutely unbearable with a particular brand of entertainment in the evening and the best food and drink Olympus has to offer.
Speak of the devil.
Pan himself is behind the host counter, talking to the hostess in low tones. He’s what my grandmother would call a character. He is one of the few success stories that don’t link back to a lineage stretching to the city’s conception. Even I’m not sure where he came from—I suspect the lower city—but he showed up one day and bought the old restaurant that used to be in this space with cash. Within five years, he’d built a reputation that drew Olympus’s elite families like magpies to glittering jewels. Now, he’s nearly untouchable. No one wants to risk infuriating him and being blacklisted from this place, especially not after how things fell out with the last Aphrodite.
Pan is a short man with light-brown skin and a riot of short dark curls. He’s got a wicked sense of humor and an infectious grin, which he’s pointing our way right now. “Apollo.” He excuses himself from the hostess and rounds the stand with arms outstretched. “It’s been too long.”
“Pan. You look well.” I allow myself to be pulled into a quick hug. I don’t know that Pan and I are what could be termed friends. I enjoy his company and we’ve shared more than a few top-shelf bottles of liquor after hours, but we don’t see each other outside his place of business.
I turn him to face Cassandra. Here’s our first test. “I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Cassandra.”
She doesn’t flinch, but she does give Pan a dismissive once-over. “Nice place.”
He bursts out laughing, the joyful sound filling the entranceway. “You seem suitably impressed. I’ve never seen you in here before.” He takes her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles. It should be a ridiculous move, but a blush steals across Cassandra’s cheeks, and I have the completely irrational urge to throw Pan into the koi pond. He glances at me, dark eyes alight with amusement. “She seems fun.”
“She is standing right here.”
“Indeed.” His grin widens. “I have the best seat in the house set up for you. Have fun, kids.” He clasps me on the shoulder and then he’s gone, striding down a side hallway that leads to the offices and kitchen.
The hostess, a petite white woman with pale-blond hair, smiles warmly at us. “This way, please.”
The Dryad is set up in a very interesting way, and I’m curious to see Cassandra’s reaction. I watch her closely as the hostess leads us up the tall staircase and into the main restaurant. It leaves quite the impression from above, the room comprised of three descending rings with a circular stage in the very center. The lower the circle, the better the seat is considered.
Personally, I prefer the higher ring. I like people-watching, and spending time in the Dryad is a good way to see where alliances stand with the various power players in the city. Naturally, tonight we’re led down to the very bottom ring. I press my hand to the small of Cassandra’s back as we descend, a thrill going through me at the casual touch. She’s so damn soft, I have to concentrate to keep my touch light and not let my hand stray.
Gods, I’m acting like an absolute cad.
I pull out the chair for Cassandra, moving too quickly and jerkily. She raises her brows but sinks into the seat. I can feel eyes on us as I move to sit next to her. An unconventional choice, maybe, but it will allow us to speak in softer voices. The walls have ears in this place.
Yes, that’s all. It’s certainly not because I want to be close to her, to have her thigh pressed to mine and her citrusy perfume teasing my senses, letting her presence distract me…
I realize my mistake the moment I sit down, but it’s too late. If I move, our audience might take it as a slight or use it as an excuse to gossip in a direction I don’t want them to go. I truly am acting like an unforgivable fool.
For once, Cassandra doesn’t appear to notice. She’s surveying the stage with a strange look on her face. “How can you stand this? Don’t you feel like a bear in a cage?”
“I prefer the upper ring.” I pick up the menu, mostly for something to do. “The tables up there are less sought out—comparably—but it’s a more…relaxing…eating experience.”
Her gaze tracks up. “Yeah, I get that.” She sighs and picks up the menu. “I’m going to be frank. I’m starving and you’re paying, so I’m going to order the most delicious thing I can find, and it’s not going to be a salad. If you are one of those people who feels the need to critique my food choices because I’m fat, I’m going to dump wine on your head and leave.”
I blink, trying to process the onslaught of information—and the implications. A slow anger flares to life in my stomach. “Do you make a habit of dating people who comment on your eating habits?”
“Not anymore.” She doesn’t look at me, but her hands shake a little where she holds the menu. “But I find it easier to state my intentions up front and avoid any bullshit. Or, more accurately, get the bullshit over with before it has a chance to ruin my meal.”
“Cassandra.” I cover her wrist with my hand, guiding the menu to the table. “Order what you want.” I should leave it at that, but the strange anger steals my best intentions. “And to be perfectly frank, fuck anyone who acts like you need to change your body to fit some bullshit beauty standard. You’re stunning.”
She blinks those big, dark eyes at me. “Apollo.”
I just overstepped, didn’t I? I open my mouth to apologize, but her soft laugh stops me in my tracks. Cassandra doesn’t laugh often, and never like this, with a strange sort of wonder on her face.
She presses her lips together and turns back to her menu. “I’ve never heard you swear before, and then you drop two in one sentence in my defense. I’m honored.”
She’s making fun of me, but I can’t help a small smile in response. “I swear.”
“No, you really don’t. You’re painfully proper and polite.” She shakes her head. “But thanks for the compliment.”
Compliment. As if calling her stunning isn’t pure truth. Cassandra might not have the commonly sought-after body type in this city, but I don’t see how that matters. Beauty is beauty in whatever shape it comes in.
Cassandra is so beautiful, it takes my breath away.