“Yes,” I gritted out.
Eros offered me a pressed-lip smile. “Why don’t we meet in the conference room?”
I nodded and followed him, aware of every pair of eyes tracking my steps. No doubt a few of them would sprint straight to Demi, eager to report who I was meeting with. The loyalty she’d amassed was baffling. Especially considering her half-sister, Hedone, had practically run a divine day care. No schedules. No accountability. Half the staff didn’t even show up when she was in charge. But at least under her, all the love matches on my show were approved.
Demi, on the other hand. She ran a tight ship—armed with her guidebook, her rules, and a dizzying array of committees.
A relationship review board.
A breakup forecast committee.
A background check department.
And then there were the Emergency Love Violation agents. They were ruthless, to say the least. They’d break up any pair daring to defy the Bureau’s decisions on romance.
I pitied anyone who fell in love without permission.
Why Eros had ever given Demi control, I couldn’t fathom. She obviously had no understanding of love. And for her to think that I cheapened it and sold it was an insult. Did shereally believe that I had zero clue about the intricacies of relationships or that I couldn’t spot a genuine love match?
Just because my family was bound by certain limitations, as in we needed to physically touch someone to know their heart and we did the grunt work and shot the arrow, so to say, it didn’t mean we weren’t just as invested in the work of love. I’ll tell you this: We sure as hell didn’t believe love was based on rules.
Maybe if Demi ever stepped outside into the mortal world, she could see that her policies were hurting people.
I trailed Eros into the conference room, which looked more like a star-studded ballroom, complete with a chandelier dripping in diamonds.
“Please have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?” He gestured toward the fully stocked bar tucked into the corner.
“I’m good, thanks.”
I collapsed into one of the chairs—fluffy monstrosities made of Caladrius feathers. Over the top, sure, but I couldn’t claim my father’s tastes were any less absurd. Even I had a penchant for the finer things.
All gods had a thing for luxury. And restraint was never on our menu. Except for Demi; she was the exception to everything in our world. That wasn’t me complimenting her. In fact, it was annoying, like she thought she was better than the rest of us. Even though she dressed like she was trying out for the part of a circus tent that housed serial killers. And what was up with the big tinted glasses she wore? And it was a crime that her once-glorious red mane was duller than dirt now.
Eros sank into the seat beside me, eyes trained on me with that careful, unshakable calm. His jade gaze—reminiscentof the aurora borealis and identical to Demi’s, not that anyone would ever make the connection—held the kind of wisdom that had seen centuries unravel.
Looking into Eros’s eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder: why in the hell would Demi ever hide those swirling, mesmerizing eyes of hers?
It was probably for the best.
It might remind me of the girl I once had dreams of falling in love with. The girl who had captured the attention of the nation as a world-class gymnast. There was just something about her that made people happy. Every interview, every news piece about her, was nothing short of magic. From the way she smiled to the way she cheered on her teammates, she stole hearts. Mine included.
I used to watch her on TV and tell my mom that one day I was going to ask her out on a date. When I found out she was the daughter of my godfather, I felt as if the Fates had heard me. I couldn’t wait to meet her.
But the first year she came to live with her father, she vanished. She locked herself away, mourning her mother and the death of her Olympic dreams after a car crash that belonged in a tragedy penned by Sophocles. And when she emerged, she was nothing like the girl I had a poster of in my room. She was cold and biting, and I was more than confused, and I resented her for not being the girl on TV. Sure, it was immature of me. She was dealing with not only a tragedy, but a Greek tragedy.
The bitter feeling was obviously mutual, though I had no idea what I’d done to deserve her wrath.
Every time I saw her, it felt like she’d taken something from me. Something I couldn’t name, only ache for. Theresentment eventually turned to hate. A hate like I had never experienced before. It was irrational, and even undeserved, but I couldn’t shake it.
And now she was stealing my show.
“Roman.” Eros patted my knee. “What troubles you?” It was as if he could read my thoughts. Perhaps he could. Gods didn’t like to advertise all their gifts. And it was well known that he could read hearts, even from a distance.
I shook my head, clearing my mind of Demi. “My show is on the verge of being canceled.”
“Yes, I know, but that is not all that troubles you.” He grinned.
“I’m learning to navigate single parenting.” I tried to sidestep, hoping he couldn’t detect my feelings about his daughter. Not that he didn’t know about our mutual dislike for each other, but I don’t think he knew how deep it ran. It was unfair to blame Demi for the void inside me. Irrational, even.
