“I don’t play the game because it bores me, not because I’m incapable.”
He’s confident enough that I almost believe him, but this could backfire half a dozen ways, and that’s just off the top of my head. I know I can fake it; it’s what I’ve been doing since my mother became Demeter and dragged our family out of its idyllic country life and into the snake pit that is Olympus. “Prove it.”
The change is almost instantaneous. Eros smiles at me, and it’s as if the sun just came out from behind a cloud. It warms his eyes and lights up his face. He leans across the table and takes my hands. “I love you, Psyche. Let’s get married.”
I break out in goose bumps and my heartbeat picks up until I can hear it in my ears. Even knowing this is fake, I can’t help reacting. “That’ll do, I guess,” I say faintly.
Just like that, he flips a switch and the coldness creeps back over his face and eyes. “Like I said, I can fake it.”
I don’t want to do this, but my options are between bad and worse. Which means I don’t actually have a choice. Still, I can’t help pressing him. “Why would you do this? Why not just do what your mother wants?”
“Unlike my mother, I am capable of putting my emotions aside and thinking logically.” I almost snort at that; I can’t imagine Eros having emotions in the first place. He continues, watching me closely. “Your mother will go off the deep end if something happens to you, and she’ll turn the city upside down until she finds the culprit. There’s the smallest chance she might actually figure out the trail leads back to me. That’s not my idea of a good time.”
When he puts it like that, it does makes sense. He might not be able to stop his mother, but he’s aware enough to realize that he’ll be the one paying the consequences if he goes through with this. “That’s the only reason?”
He looks away, the first sign that he might be in anything other than perfect control. “I don’t have a conscience, so don’t get any funny ideas.”
“Of course not,” I murmur.
“It feels shitty to do this after you helped me.” He speaks so softly, the words are almost lost in the general murmur of the bar around us.
I can’t decide if him acknowledging that makes this situation better or worse. It’s obviously not something I can try to use as leverage, not when he’s been very clear about his intentions. It doesn’t matter if he thinks it’s shitty; he’ll still do it. I sigh. “I’ll agree on one condition.”
“You seem to be under the mistaken impression that you have anything to negotiate with.”
Fear tries to clamp around my throat, but I muscle past the instinctive response trying to stifle my words. I can’t afford to let fear rule me right now. I only have one chance to pull this off, and I have to get whatever promises from him that I can. “We both know I do.”
After a long moment, he looks at me and inclines his head. “What’s your condition?”
“You won’t harm my family. Not my sisters. Not my mother. I’m not dodging this bullet only for one of them to take the hit.”
He hesitates but finally nods again. “You have my word.”
I don’t know if that’s enough, but it’s not like I can have a contract drawn up and… Speaking of contracts. Fuck. “I also need a prenup.”
“No.”
I have two years before I turn twenty-five and gain access to the trust fund my grandmother set up for me. It’s not an insignificant amount of money; people have been killed for less. Then again, I suppose Eros has something similar in his name. No matter what else is true about Aphrodite, it’s common knowledge that her fortune rivals even Poseidon’s. One of the perks of that particular title is the money is attached to Aphrodite, not to the person who holds it. But the last three people to be Aphrodite ensured that their children were well taken care of, so there’s no reason to believe this one has done any differently. “Why not?”
“Because this is a whirlwind romance and people deeply enough in love to sprint to the altar aren’t smart enough to write up prenups beforehand.”
Damn it. He’s right. “Fine.”
“If that’s settled, let’s go.” Eros rises from the table and holds out a hand. “My car is around back.”
I cautiously slip my hand into his and allow him to tug me out of the booth and to my feet. I half expect him to release me, but he simply laces our fingers together and heads for the dark rectangle of shadows in the back of the room. As we get closer, it resolves into an exit. It’s not until we’re walking down the dim, narrow hallway and through the grimy back door that I realize this could all be a trap.