Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
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.
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.