The use of my first name gives me a bit of a jolt. I haven’t heard anyone apart from my parents say it in a while. Ms. Walsh, sure. But Ruby?
“I looked you up,” she admits, leading me through her house toward the pool. “I like to know who lives next door. Your firm’s reputation precedes you.”
The poolside setup is stunning—white loungers, gauzy curtains drifting in the breeze, the infinity edge of the pool overlooking the valley. Her housekeeper—Asha, I hear Athena call her—appears with a tray of coffee and dates. A massive cat, bigger than any house cat I’ve ever seen, jumps onto the chair next to Athena and fixes me with an imperious stare.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “This feels a bit surreal,” I say, shaking my head in amusement. “You’re casually sitting here, flanked by a…what is it? It looks dangerous.”
“This is Zeus,” Athena says, scratching behind the cat’s ears. “And yes, he can be tricky, so I wouldn’t try to pet him if I were you. He’s…selective with his affections.”
“Noted.” I’m happy to keep my distance. The cat’s gaze is unnerving, too intelligent by half.
“Do you always work on Sundays?” she asks, leaning back in her chair. The robe slips slightly, revealing her cleavage. I force myself to look away.
“We’re particularly busy right now—there’s a major acquisition in process.” I feel like I’m reading from a script. When was the last time I made small talk? Really talked toanyone outside of work? “But you must be busy too,” I say. “I see you come home late most nights.”
Athena waves a hand. “Yes, I work hard. I’m very disciplined, but the Olympus largely runs itself these days. I make appearances, charm the high rollers, play my part as the mysterious Greek owner.” She chuckles and rolls her eyes. “It adds to the allure, apparently.”
“Of course. That makes sense.” I hesitate, coffee cup halfway to my lips. The question has been nagging at me for weeks. “Speaking of allure…those are some impressive vehicles in your driveway.”
“The limousines?” Athena’s smile doesn’t waver. “They’re for my guests. I like to entertain.”
Something in her tone suggests that’s all the answer I’m going to get, but it only feeds my curiosity. What kind of guests need identical black limousines and a protective detail?
“So you work hard,” I venture, watching her stroke Zeus. “And play harder. Quite the social butterfly.”
Athena tilts her head, regarding me over the rim of her coffee cup. Her dark eyes hold mine a beat too long. “And you’re the opposite, aren’t you?” Her voice drops lower. “All work and no play.”
The way she says it startles me—not accusatory but weighted, almost flirtatious. That’s when I see it. The careful tilt of her head, the measured fall of silk against skin, how she’s positioned herself to command my full attention while maintaining just enough distance to make me lean in. She radiates a familiar energy I haven’t let myself notice since Claire, that particular frequency of attraction. This woman is so gay.
“True. I don’t have time to play.” I set down my coffee cup.My hand trembles slightly, and I catch Athena tracking the movement. Am I intimidated by her? That would be a first. In my line of work, I face down Fortune 500 CEOs and ruthless corporate raiders without blinking. But something about her steady gaze strips away my usual certainty. “So, you’re Greek?” I ask, steering the conversation into safer waters.
“Yes. My family’s originally from Athens, but my mother and sister live in Santorini these days.” Her voice softens when she mentions her family, a rare crack in her polished veneer. “Greece is beautiful. Have you been?”
“No. I’ve traveled around Europe, but never made it to Greece.” I study her deliberately, taking in the way she holds herself, how she seems to consider each word before speaking. If she’s assessing me, I want her to know I’m equally observant. As a lawyer, reading people is my specialty, but I’ve rarely met someone who matches me at this game. “Do you go back often?”
“Once or twice a year. Not as often as I’d like.” Athena pauses. “And where are you from? Everyone in Vegas seems to be imported.”
“Something tells me you already know,” I counter. “You said you like to know who lives next door.”
“Touché.” Athena shrugs like she’s been caught but doesn’t care. “Of course I know. You’re originally from San Francisco, Berkeley Law. You moved to Vegas five years ago, your firm was founded here.” She hesitates, her expression softening. “With your wife Claire Walsh, who tragically passed away two years ago in a car accident on the 215.” She leans in a little. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
The facts of my life, laid out so precisely, leave me raw. Claire’s name in a stranger’s mouth feels wrong, and hearing it spoken aloud creates a strange ache—like pressing on a bruise to remember it’s there.
“You’re thorough,” I manage, aiming for professional detachment. “I suppose everything’s public record these days.”
“Not everything,” Athena says quietly. I glimpse something behind her eyes—a flicker of recognition, perhaps. Or understanding. Then it’s gone, replaced by that enigmatic smile. “More coffee?”
I get to my feet, smoothing down my skirt. “No, I should head to the office. Thank you for the coffee.”
“I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable by mentioning…” Athena trails off as she rises. “You know…”
“Not at all.” The lie comes easily. “You should come over for coffee sometime. My turn to host.” I don’t mean it; it’s social autopilot taking over. I’m already backing away, eager to escape. Maybe it’s hearing Claire’s name, or maybe it’s the way Athena seems to read me like one of my contracts. Or perhaps it’s Zeus, watching me retreat with those ancient, knowing eyes.
I make it to my car in record time, the morning heat already rising from the driveway in waves. In my rearview mirror, I catch a final glimpse of Athena standing in her doorway, one hand resting on Zeus’s head, both of them watching me leave with the same inscrutable expression.
SIX
ATHENA
