Roman’s chest heaved, his fists clenched at his sides. “To hell with your rules.”
“Wow. That was a little cinematic, don’t you think?”
Admittedly, I loved taunting him. I really shouldn’t have. I was thirty years old and should have been way past this type of behavior. And I was. But there was just something about Roman that brought out the worst in me. Well, I knew what it was, but I refused to name it. Like, ever.
“There were some good couples this season. You just refused to see it. You broke hearts.”
“Actually, I saved them.” To be fair, I had considered one couple, Sadie and Pablo, but she was too young and they hated each other to start with, like passionately. And eventhough the divine side of me whispered that they were a good match, I couldn’t trust it. It had been wrong before. Very wrong. So, I defaulted to the rules. Rules were safer.
Roman scoffed. “What do you know about hearts? I’m not even sure you have one. Honestly, what do you even know about love?”
Cassie dropped her popcorn bowl. Her mouth hung open and her eyes flashed violet fury. She looked seconds away from hexing him into oblivion.
I shook my head, telling her not to while swallowing down the lump in my throat and stopping the sting in my eyes from manifesting into tears. I hadn’t cried in years. And I wasn’t going to give Roman the satisfaction. He wasn’t worth my tears.
I stared straight into his hypnotic eyes, refusing to back down. Even though sometimes I feared I had lost my heart for good. Lost me. And there was no way to get either of them back. No one would believe it now, but once I was the happiest girl who ever lived, and I believed in love with all my heart—all the ooey gooey ridiculous parts of it.
And who washeto lecture me about love? He’d divorced what the media called the perfect woman—model Carmen Lux, daughter of Anteros, god of requited love. Yes, my cousin. A fellow demigoddess. (FYI: The modeling world is crawling with demigods and demigoddesses. If only mortals knew, maybe they’d stop trying to live up to ideals that were never natural—or fair.)
I thought about throwing it in his face, but he and Carmen had a beautiful little girl, Junie. And I never celebrated the end of a relationship. Even relationships I knew were neversupposed to be. That was one of my unholy gifts. I knew things I shouldn’t—and didn’t want to know.
But I wouldn’t be letting him off the hook after an accusation like that. “At least I know enough not to sell love or cheapen it,” I whispered.
He stood, and his glare sent a cold shiver through me. “You don’t know anything about what I do.”
I flashed him a toothy smile, more than done with our conversation. “Have a nice day, Mr. Archer.”
He threw his arms up in the air. “I’ll be taking this up with your father.”
“Good luck with that,” I called to his retreating figure with the confidence of a naked toddler. Or more accurately, a naked demigod. Seriously, they are all so full of themselves.
Meanwhile, Cassie’s warning was blaring in my head like a siren. As in the kind of sirens who lure you to your death. Oh yes, they’re real too.
My father and I had a complicated relationship, to say the least, considering I didn’t even know who he was for the first sixteen years of my life. Not to say he hadn’t tried to make up for it. But it disappointed him that I refused to use my gifts. Gifts not even my sister had. Gifts maybe no one else had.
Those gifts and his guilt were the main reasons he gave me this job. And, you know, my sister’s “sabbatical” and her lack of supervision over the mortals. Hello, Jesse James and Sandra Bullock. That was a match that should never have happened. Poor Sandra.
But more concerning than any of that was . . . he liked Roman. No, he loved him. Like a son. His godson, in fact.
I had an icky feeling that Cassie was right—Roman’s visit would not bode well for me.
Chapter II
Roman
ImarchedoutofDemi’s office. She was the most infuriating woman I had ever met. I had no idea what I had ever done to her, but from our first meeting when she was seventeen and I was eighteen, she seemed to have a personal vendetta against me. Funny to think there was a time I’d wanted nothing more than to meet her. You know what they say: Don’t meet your heroes—or your crushes. You’re just setting yourself up for disappointment. And Demi was one of the biggest disappointments of my life.
All her loyal employees glared at me as if I were their subordinate, from behind desks made of gold—because of course they were. Subtlety had never been a Greek virtue. Most Greeks thought they were better than the Romans. And after divorcing one of their own, I was persona non grata. Never mind that it was Carmen who had asked for the divorce, and that we had remained friends. And I had a daughter who was half Greek.
“Roman. Just the man I was looking for.”
I turned—and there he was. Eros. A second father in all but blood. I blinked, still adjusting to the silver hair. It strangely suited him. If anything, it made him look more regaland distinguished. But he hadn’t aged. He’d changed it for Demi.
I think she found it jarring to have a father who didn’t look the part. And ever since he’d brought her into our world, he seemed willing to do anything for her.
“Hello, Eros.” I embraced him, still seething.
“Your heart rages.” Eros never missed a thing. “I take it you’ve spoken with Demi.”
