Jericho and I stride into the grand hall of the Astoria, joining the other formally dressed guests who are here for my grandparents’ anniversary party.
In the far corner of the hall, my father stands with his arm around Sloane, Bastian’s mother. Bastian is with them, along with this week’s side piece attached to his arm.
My father notices me first, and his face becomes infused with stone, his eyes brimming with the warning of our last encounter. Bastian looks across at me, too.
They were told today that I’ve been preliminarily selected for the CEO position of the Park Avenue branch. That’s why they’re looking at me with a myriad of emotions engraved on their faces. Rage. Fury. Wrath. And so much more. They’re all there with front row seats, witnessing our rivalry.
I look away. Father and Bastian can’t do shit to me. At least not tonight.
Tonight, I’m still the untouchable winner.
Jericho and I spot our grandparents by the chocolate fondue fountain.
Grandma is laughing at something my grandfather is saying. Like always, he has some joke to tell her. He’s confessed on many occasions that his favorite thing is hearing her laugh.
Both are dressed in black, but my grandmother’s strapless gown has silver trimmings around the hem the same color as her hair.
We make our way over.
I have my own agenda for tonight in releasing the official details of my engagement, but the fifty years my grandparents have spent together is a sentiment I celebrate too. I’m happy to have them still together, still as healthy as they were twenty years ago, and still alive in love.
Grandma spots us first and clasps her hands for her habitual swoon. “Look at you boys in your suits. You look so handsome.”
“You look beautiful, Grandma,” I tell her.
“Thank you, my love. I do my best.” She laughs heartily and makes a show of twirling around.
“Yes, you do.”
“And you, but you’re still my sweet, cute little boys.”
Neither of us corrects her. We haven’t been cute or sweet in such a long time, the years that we were don’t count anymore.
Especially now. My grandmother would probably have a heart attack if she knew I was forcing Aurora to marry me. She knows about the engagement, but she thinks it’s real.
Grandma reaches up and tries to touch Jericho’s cheeks. Another habit of hers. Jericho had chubby cheeks when he was little that Grandma adored. As she’s a short little thing, even in her heels, Jericho indulges her by leaning forward to meet her more than halfway.
“Always, Grandma.” Jericho humors her with one of his faux angelic smiles he usually reserves for her. Apart from our mother, Grandma is the only other woman in our lives who gets to see such niceties.
“Aww.” She continues doting on him by patting his cheeks, then she moves to me. I dip my head, so she can plant a kiss on my forehead.
“Happy anniversary,” I tell them both when I straighten.
“Thank you, my boy.” Grandfather smiles and holds out his hand to shake mine.
“And may you have another fifty more years together,” Jericho adds, his gaze focused and expression relaxed. It’s his meaningful face. The one we see when he’s showing us the real him.
While Grandma looks like she’s about to burst into tears of happiness, Grandfather rests a hand on his shoulder.
“I appreciate that, son.”
“I know.”
“So, where is your beautiful bride-to-be?” Grandma bubbles, looking at me. “I’m dying to meet her.”
“She’s on her way.”
Aurora should be here very soon. Jericho and I had a meeting that ran over. I wouldn’t have had time to go home, so we came straight here from the office.
I sent one of my personal shoppers to the house to make sure Aurora looked the part tonight. She also had her hair and makeup professionally done.
She doesn’t need all that, but after our showdown yesterday at Sunset Cove, I didn’t trust her not to wear a garbage bag and make me look bad.
I actually don’t know what mood or version of Aurora I’m going to get tonight.
I haven’t seen her since yesterday. I got home late last night and left before sunrise, but I’m assuming she still hates me.
“I’m so excited for you.” Grandma takes both my hands into hers. “I hear she’s beautiful.”
“She is.”
“Well done.” Another hearty laugh fills the space between us.
Two of my grandparents’ friends approach, and Grandma releases my hands.
“We’ll come find you boys in a little while,” Grandfather says to us. “Grab some drinks.”
“Sure.”
He saunters away with Grandma and their friends. The two falling into an easy conversation about their plans for the evening.
Jericho turns back to me with a hopeful expression. “Well, at least they’re as happy as they always are.”
“Yeah, fifty years of happiness. It’s a long time to be together.”
“It’s a long time for a lot of things. I feel like I’ve been waiting for fifty years for Grandfather to talk to me about the company. But I’ve decided I’m not going to think about it. It’s not like we don’t have work to do.”
I couldn’t agree more. “We have a lot on our hands.”
“Speaking of which, you’ve hardly said anything about your dearly beloved.”
He’s been trying to pump me for information since he sent the message about Aurora’s secret pen name. As we were so busy today with back-to-back meetings, he seized the chance to grill me again on the way here, but I didn’t give him anything.
“Things have only gotten worse.”
“How?” His stare is as skeptical as if I just said I was having lunch with leprechauns. “Things were already terrible, but surely, her wicked, wild fantasies must sweeten the deal. Come on, Knight, she’s a fucking hot romance author who writes dirty.”
I’m very aware of who my bride-to-be is. And today’s chapter was dirtier than the last. Fucking hell, the woman is all things sinful.
“It hasn’t escaped me, brother. But right now, she hates my guts.” And I can’t blame her. “Things went all the way south yesterday at Sunset Cove.”
“What happened?”
I quickly fill him in, and as I speak, even he frowns at the parts where I explain how Aurora found out I was renovating the place. I feel like the asshole I am.
Even I know I could have done it better. I could have found another way.
I wasn’t campaigning for the world’s biggest asshole. I just felt what I did was best. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, you just get it done and deal with the consequences after.
The reality is no matter what happened, we would have had an argument anyway, but yesterday was made so much worse when Aurora told me about her mother’s plans for Sunset Cove, and how she wanted to make them reality.
I already felt Aurora was too attached to the place but hearing that amplified my reasoning for standing my ground because there’s no point doing something that carries such a sentiment when Sunset Cove is going to be sold off.
I would break her more, and I’m not about to suddenly grow a heart and lose what I want.
I could see the loss in her eyes and the pure hatred toward me. That’s what made me confess I knew about her secret pen name. And her recent work. Up until then, I had no plans of telling her. Doing so was to show her that she can’t fight me, even when she thinks she’s buried a secret deep in the earth.
I do wonder, however, if there is more to my goddess that she’s keeping under some rock in Hell.
“Jesus, Knight.” Jericho blinks several times. “Sometimes I think you make me look like a saint.”
“It was for the best, and when she finds out what I have planned, it’s going to be Armageddon.”
Suddenly, something sparks in his eyes. He looks past me, and his eyes grow large, but then he looks back at me and nods.
“So, what you’re saying is, you’re hardcore enemies, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And you feel nothing for the girl. You’d pretty much be okay if someone else had her before you say ‘I do?’”
A pang of rage twists in my gut at the idea of anyone touching or having what’s mine before or after I say ‘I do.’ Even my brother.
“Jericho, touch her, and you die. I mean it.” I do. It would be the first time we fight. I always knew if that happened, it would be to the death.
“Oh, I figured as such, and of course, I wouldn’t do that to you. But you might want to put every other fucker in this room looking at your girl in his place.” He lifts his chin, gesturing to look behind me.
When I do, and my gaze lands on Aurora Wright, my heart slams into the walls of my chest and my pulse clatters around like beads falling to the floor.
My guard momentarily slips, and I allow myself to be a man admiring her for the beautiful woman she is.
The long lustrous strands of her hair flow down like a shower of moonlight, curving around her upper body in loose sexy waves. The style compliments the silver sequin gown hugging her body with its glamorous mermaid hem.
She’s glowing and nothing but delicious delight with those perky tits, shapely hips, and curves for miles and miles.
It’s like she just stepped out of a myth. Because only a goddess like Persephone would look like that. Like a woman worth stealing from another man. Or this world.
It’s a dangerous thought that could get me in trouble, but so will the men looking at what’s mine. It’s true, there’s not a man in here who doesn’t have his eyes on her.
I walk away without another word to Jericho and head toward Aurora.
She doesn’t see me until I’m nearly with her. When she does, she looks at me with caution.
“You’re late,” I say, although she’s not really. Especially when I’ve barely been here for five minutes. “Still hate me?”
Her gaze hardens. “Never stopped.”
“Good, you mustn’t.” I wink at her, my answer and attitude never failing to surprise her. “Were you working on chapter 19 of Girl No. 9?”
“I did that this morning.”
“So, why didn’t you release it? Do you like keeping your readers in suspense on a huge cliffhanger?”
“It’s called a hook.”
“I beg to differ. It’s more like torture.” My eyes drop to her body and climb back up slowly, oh so slowly, to meet hers, as if I have eons left in this world to admire her. It’s almost torture not doing so.
Aurora doesn’t miss the double meaning of my words. Her cheeks flush, and I can see her doing her best to chase away the effect I have on her.
“It’s to keep people coming back.”
“Just out of interest, why’d you call the title Girl No.9?”
“Oh, so you didn’t read the whole thing?” She feigns surprise.
“Just the parts with all your dirty fantasies, mon cherie. So, tell me, why is Laila Girl No. 9?”
“She has a controlling father who wants her to marry one of his business associates. In order to escape the marriage, she needed a lot of money, so she signs up to be a call girl. That’s how she becomes Girl. No. 9. Javier finds out about it and gives her the money, but he wants her for thirty days. He thinks it will be enough and that he’ll be able to let her go, but then he decides to fight for her.”
I’m impressed. Seriously. “Good stuff.”
“I would say thanks, but it feels weird.”
“That’s fine. Anyway, Chapter 18 ended when Javier couldn’t find a condom. What happens next? Do they still do it?”
Her jaw sets, and she searches my eyes, trying to see what I’m up to. “Why?”
“I want to know if your fantasies include bareback fucking.” Yes, I am trying to shock her.
“Yes, Mr. Grayson, my fantasies just so happen to include bareback fucking.” She borrows my words, but such filthiness coming from a sweet girl like her should be illegal.
“Does that mean you’re on the pill, mon cherie?” I never thought about that before because I promised myself I wouldn’t go there with her, but the question comes now that my body has overridden common sense.
“Yes. If you must know.”
Now that I know, of course, all I can think of is bareback fucking her. My skin on hers. Me inside her. Me taking all the parts she hasn’t given me yet.
Maybe all the parts she’s given that simpering idiot, Nathan.
“And is Javier inspired by your former beloved?” It’s a question I shouldn’t ask because it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t.
“No, all my characters are fictional. In any event, please stop calling him my beloved. You’ve dug around enough, I’m sure you must know Nathan and I weren’t even dating.”
“Just double checking, Goddess.” I was right, their marriage was going to be as arranged as ours. But maybe I shouldn’t have pressed for that information. It was something to keep me in line.
“There’s nothing to double check.”
Nothing. The put out look in her eyes tells me she might never have slept with the asshole, so those parts of her I want to taste, could still be all mine.
I’m so sucked in with the seductress she’s playing, that I almost miss the warning in my gut that’s telling me there’s something different about her tonight.
Something softer that shouldn’t be there so soon after yesterday’s angst.
She should still want to rip my skin off. Still hate me. Still want to run a million miles from me.
There’s no way she’s gotten over the bomb I dropped on her so quickly. I expected her to come back with more pleas for a negotiation, or something. Not this.
Although, I do like her like this—soft and sexy and absolutely fuckable.
I look a little deeper into those eyes of hers and find what I’m looking for— desperation masked by arousal. The sight reveals what’s truly happening here.
This is it. The first steps of her attempted negotiation.
Aurora Wright hasn’t given up on anything.
Her tactics have just changed. She’s trying to reach me from a different angle to get what she wants.
Sorry, mon cherie, you can’t try to fool the devil in his own game.
Not even Hades truly gave Persephone what she wanted. That’s why we have spring and winter.
“Good to know.” My delayed answer after my prolonged silence snaps the connection.
“Do I want to know how you found out about my secret pen name when I’ve only told one person in this world?”
That one person is Madison, the best friend.
“No. Best you don’t know, Goddess. In any event, much as I’m enjoying this little conversation of ours, it’s showtime.” I’m aware that people have started looking at us, whispering and wondering who the beautiful mystery woman is standing with me. “Time to be mine.”
Her eyes turn contemplative, acknowledging that this is the moment when everything changes. After tonight, we’ll be in the public’s eyes. “What do you want me to do?”
I have several answers for that.
Ride my face, so I can feast on her tight little pussy.
Ride my dick until it’s raw.
Pretend I’m Javier from the story and let me fuck her in the back alley.
I push all those options away and think of something safer.
“Kiss me.”
A flicker of uncertainty dances in her eyes, and it almost seems as if she’s worried about what effect kissing me might have on her.
I crook my finger, beckoning her to come closer.
She takes a quick sip of air and obeys.
My lips meet hers, and I recognize the sweet taste. It feels like coming home, so I indulge myself and go through the door we just opened. I flick my tongue through the seam of her lips and suck on her tongue in a full open-mouthed kiss, imploring and exploring her like I did only a week ago.
It’s only been a day over a week. It feels like it must be longer, but it’s not.
I kiss her like I never have before but like we should have always been kissing. She kisses me back, unable to resist and listen to whatever voice is telling her to beware of me.
Her soft body fuses to mine. At that moment, I stop thinking and start feeling.
And I think she was right.
She is my Persephone.
But she mustn’t be.
