Zavier was confident and smart and incredible sexy. He was attractive in a subtle but demanding way. I couldn’t help but study him when he did the most mundane things.
I made sure my leg brushed Zavier’s as I slipped into the back seat. I was reasonably sure he’d figured out the touches weren’t accidental, but I was too curious to see what he’d do about it. From everything he said, he respected Ashton too much to make a move on someone he deemed to be Ashton’s woman. Equally, the looks he threw my way made his attraction to me all too clear.
I’d been a prisoner for several lifetimes over. And now, I was finally free. I didn’t belong to Ashton, or Zavier, or even Alex.
For a short while, I was free.
And I was going to enjoy it.
Zavier wanted me. Of that I was certain. My main question was how to make him see that.
We didn’t say a word to one another as we travelled towards his office. Mostly because I spent the time staring out of the window at the world around me. Everything was so high. So gray. So different. There was very little doubt I wasn’t in Ancient Greece anymore. A small part of me felt guilty over not missing it, but deep down I knew this world suited me better. And not just because my miseries had been set loose on this one already. There wasn’t much more damage I could do.
“Which is your favorite myth?” he blurted.
“Sorry?”
“From your studies,” he clarified.
Even so, it took me a moment or two to catch up. “Persephone,” I responded, leaning in to whisper to him.
“Hades’ wife?”
“Kind of.” Wife was putting it a bit strongly. Weird Stockholm syndrome captive was more like it. As far as I’d ever been able to tell, Persephone had real feelings for the Lord of the Underworld, and he had at least lust for her. Things were just a bit…cloudy. No one was ever really sure what was going on with that couple.
“Why?”
“I hate pomegranates.” Not even a lie. The first time Hades had taken his wife with him, Demeter had killed all the pomegranate trees in response. I’d had a blissful few years without the fruit. “What about yours?” I regretted the question the instant it slipped past my lips.
“Pandora’s Box.”
My blood ran cold. That wasn’t the answer I expected or wanted to hear. “Why?” I whispered.
“Something about that being the root of all the miseries in the world just speaks to me. I don’t want to believe the world was created to be cruel.”
Blinking furiously, I did my best to ignore the tears which were threatening in the corners of my eyes. It hadn’t really been my fault. I wasn’t sure why people didn’t get that. Maybe I needed to do some research into what the gods had actually told people about my story. That way, I’d be prepared next time someone told me about my legend.
“I think she was misunderstood,” I countered despite myself.
“Potentially.” He didn’t sound convinced, so I left it.
No part of me was ready for the outing that I not only knew a lot about Pandora, but that I was her.
Who’d believe me anyway?
After a few moments of silence, Zavier turned back to his phone, scrolling through whatever messages he’d been receiving about whatever crisis he was dealing with. That made it sound very ominous. I hoped it wasn’t anything too serious.
“We’re here,” he said, as the car pulled up to one of the tall gray buildings.
Zavier got out first, holding the door open for me. I smiled my thanks, but I doubted it reached my eyes. His answer in the car had shaken me more than I wanted to admit. Maybe I should have gone back to the hotel. Facing Alex again had to be better than this.
“Welcome to my empire.” He waved his hand in front of him, then led me up the steps to the front door. A grand entrance hall greeted us, complete with huge pillars reminiscent of the architecture of old. Except that just like everything outside was too gray, everything inside was too white.
I shivered.
My heels clicked repetitively against the glossy tile floor. At the elevator, he pressed the button and a short silence fell between us. When the doors chimed, his hand met the small of my back and a tingling feeling flooded through me. It was a feeling of being alive. Of being noticed and of finding attention in the person I’d tried so damn hard to get to relax around me.
We stepped inside, and the doors closed without a sound. He pressed a number against the panel.
