Devyn stared at the words.
Read them again.
Greek god.
Ten years navigating Hewhay’s impossible geography. Ten years of otherworldly politics and shadow kingdoms and dreams that connected four kings across impossible distances. And apparently Greek gods were also just... walking around. Getting engaged to photography assistants from Rhode Island.
He turned the page.
And the knife went deeper.
Paul Theodore—known to Bailey as ‘Mr. Handsome’ since the first chapter of OLYMPUS BEWITCHED, an audiobook she has listened to one hundred and seventeen times. Her comfort. Her escape. Her door out when the world becomes too much. She fell asleep to his voice. Dreamed about his rare smiles. Swooned over his magnetic hazel eyes and quiet intensity.
He was her book boyfriend before she knew book boyfriends could become real.
Devyn’s hands had gone white-knuckled on the book’s edges.
One hundred and seventeen times.
She’d listened to this man’s story one hundred and seventeen times. Chosen him, over and over, every time she pressed play. Every time something bad happened. Every time she needed to escape.
He turned another page.
Paul calling hermy love.Paul calling hersweetheart.Paul looking at her like she hung the moon—not with the cold assessment of a mafia king evaluating an asset, but with open, uncomplicated adoration.
Paul’s voice: calm, gentle, steady. The kind of voice that soothed instead of commanded. The kind of voice that would never call herunfitin front of a room full of crying servants.
Paul saving her. Deflecting danger with one hand while holding her safe with the other. Powerful and protective without being destructive. Without beingdangerous.
Paul, who was literally a Greekgod.
Who could not lie to her the way Devyn just had.
The pages kept turning. Devyn couldn’t stop. Every image was a fresh wound, every word a reminder of everything he wasn’t, everything he could never be.
Paul was patient where Devyn was impatient.
Warm where Devyn was cold.
Gentle where Devyn was intense.
Golden where Devyn was shadow.
And Bailey had chosen him. Not once, not accidentally, not because she’d stumbled into a chapel wearing the wrong dress at the wrong time. She had chosen Paul Theodore one hundred and seventeen times before she ever knew he could be real.
Devyn Chaleur had been the route she refused to read.
The dangerous one. The one she avoided.
And now he’d confirmed every fear she might have had about him. Hewasthe dangerous choice. Hehadhurt her. Exactly the way she’d probably always suspected he would.
He turned to the final page.
The next time Bailey returns to her world, it will be her wedding day.
She will marry Paul Theodore.
She will be happy.
