Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Circe is coming for them, and she will have no mercy.
Aphrodite only considers Hera for a moment before they nod. “Fine. An open-ended favor. Consider it done.”
“Lovely. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.” She turns to me, and although there is no mercy in her hazel eyes, they’re not unkind. “Dionysus is a mess, but he’s not a bad man. My sister is keeping her word to you—and so is Hades. You’ll be safe with your new husband, and he won’t expect the marital privileges that others might.”
Marital privileges. She means sex. The thought makes my stomach twist. I’ve already betrayed Asterion in a thousand different ways, so what’s one more? When I agreed to marry someone of Olympus’s choosing, I knew sex would be part of the bargain. Children, too. Both so often are included with these types of things. That was a problem for a future me who might not even survive long enough to deal with it.
But if Hera is telling the truth… If Dionysus won’t expect that of me… Even though I know better, a tiny kernel of hope takes root in my chest. I drag in a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“We’ll be seeing each other again very soon, Ariadne.” From her, it sounds like a threat.
Aphrodite and I are silent for several seconds after she leaves the room. They finally curse softly under their breath. “She’s a menace.”
“I think I like her.” I don’t mean to say it out loud, but once I do, there’s no taking it back. She scares the shit out of me, but most people do these days. I’m used to it. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. “What happens now?”
Their phone pings, a jaunty, merry tune. Their perfect brows draw together as they read the text message. “Apparently, your betrothed is here to see you.”
Fear flickers through me, and I don’t think I do a good job of hiding it. It’s just as well that Aphrodite seems distracted. I clear my throat. “Oh. Great.”
I don’t have time to do more before a white man with messy dark hair and a truly impressive dark mustache walks through the door. I didn’t talk to Dionysus much during the party my father hosted ten weeks ago, but to the best of my knowledge, he was drunk the entire time. When his guest, Pan, was attacked and hospitalized, Dionysus didn’t leave the party with him. Aside from that, all I know is what the rest of Olympus knows. He was given his title roughly a decade ago in the last great shift of the Thirteen, and he specializes in alcohol, drugs, and any number of things best left unsaid. He also keeps secrets just as well as Hermes does, which is saying something.
He looks like he hasn’t slept since I’ve seen him last. He’s lost weight, and he was already rather thin to begin with. His eyes are sunken, his features standing out from exhaustion. He barely gives me a glance as he crosses the room and drops into the seat next to me. “My assistant sent over the prenup. I expect you’ll have some thoughts on it, Aphrodite. Let’s make this quick.”
They flip through their phone, their frown deepening. “This is highway robbery. You can’t seriously mean to agree to this. I know you play the fool, but no one is actually that foolish.”
At first I think they’re talking to me, and I open my mouth to tell them I’m in no position to argue with anything. I’m not marrying for money, and I have no other choice in partners. I’m certainly not bringing a dowry to this union. I’ve already given away my only bargaining chip—information.
But Dionysus is the one to answer. “If we’re both going to be forced into this union, the least I can do is ensure that it’s even.”
Aphrodite curses again and hands their phone to me. “You might as well read it over. I don’t expect you to protest.”
As contracts go, it’s a simple one. A single page of text. My horror grows as I read through it and then go back to the beginning and start again. Aphrodite is right. This is a disaster. Or a trap. Either way, I can’t agree to it. “This is too much. You’re giving me a house?”
“Two houses, actually. One in the city proper, and one out in the country. I expect there will be events that will require both of us to be in attendance, but you might as well be comfortable in your own space. Just like I will be comfortable in mine.”
This can’t be real. My life has been relatively privileged, but I learned at a very young age that nothing good happens in a vacuum. Everyone has an angle they’re playing, something they want from you in exchange for their generosity. “You’re specifying that sex is off the table.”