Well, fuck that.
If I have one skill, it’s giving people something to talk about. I intend to keep them so busy gossiping about my bullshit marriage that they won’t bother to sharpen their knives. Entertainment is king, after all.
I grab my phone, ignoring last night’s increasingly irate texts from my husband, and carefully snap a few selfies. I flip through them, picking the one that has me looking soft and mischievous…and has the tiniest hint of Pandora in the background. She’s turned away from the camera, only her mass of dark hair and one soft arm in the frame. She could be anyone…
But Hephaestus will know exactly who she is.
And the rest of Olympus will drive itself into a frenzy speculating why there’s someone who isn’t my husband in my bed on my wedding night.
I post on social media with a string of emojis—sun, heart, coffee, lips—that could mean anything and will add more fuel to the fire as people try to decode the secret message. Then I wander into my kitchen and take my time with my espresso machine. This is the favorite part of my day, the careful ritual of putting together the perfect latte.
I get five minutes of peace before my phone starts blowing up. A quick glance shows Hephaestus’s name. I grin and go back to the espresso machine.
Three calls later and Pandora’s phone starts ringing. I left it and her purse on the counter, so I grab it. The photo displayed is an old one with Pandora and Hephaestus—Theseus, then. He’s got his arm around her and he’s looking down at her with a smile that’s so relaxed, I almost doubt this is the man I married. She, of course, is her customary sunny self, beaming at the camera. It’s cute.
“Gross.” I swipe to answer the call. “Hello, Husband.”
“What the fuck did you do to her?”
“Hmm?” I drizzle caramel on the inside of my cup. “I’m not sure what you’re accusing me of, but I do believe I’m insulted.”
“I swear to the gods, Aphrodite, if you’ve harmed one hair on her head—”
“That’s your role, dear husband. I prefer softer methods.” I pause and pour the espresso into the cup. “And Pandora is very soft.”
He’s silent for a beat. Two. “I’ll kill you.”
A shiver of dread goes through me at the sheer menace in his voice, but I shake it off. I knew what he was capable of when I offered to marry him. Marrying murderers is practically a family tradition at this point, though I have no intention of suffering the same fate my mother did.
Even in my head, the thought falls flat. Dark humor has kept me going through some nightmarish experiences, and it will continue to do so. I add milk to the cup, then ice, and finish it off with more caramel.
“You won’t.” My voice doesn’t so much as quiver. “You need this marriage, and you’re no Zeus to survive the reputation of being a spouse-killer. I am Olympus’s darling little rebel, and if the people of this city think you’ve hurt me, they’ll tear you limb from limb.” Probably. If they don’t whip out some popcorn to cheer on the fall of one of the Kasios family. Truly, it could go either way.
Public opinion is a fickle beast, but I don’t expect Hephaestus to know that. He’s shown absolutely no skill at manipulating the press to date, so I don’t expect him to start now.
When he speaks again, his tone hasn’t lost its quiet menace. “Leave her alone. She has nothing to do with this.”
“Then she shouldn’t have come to Olympus. Have a nice day, Hephaestus. I certainly plan to.” I hang up and turn the ringer to silent. A quick check of my social media confirms the post is already blowing up. The comments are all gleeful speculation. Good.
“Aphrodite?”
I turn and freeze. Pandora stands in the doorway to my kitchen, her curvy body framed by the morning light. She’s wearing a bra, panties, and little else. Her body is… I swallow hard. Gods, I have the most inappropriate desire to pull her into my arms, to press my mouth to the soft line of her shoulder, to follow it down—
Stop that.
I smile slowly. “Good morning, Pandora.”
Her makeup has smudged a bit, and it’s truly unfair that it only makes her dark eyes more prominent and pretty. She gives me a long look. “What am I doing here?”
This, at least, I have a ready answer for. “Oh, you drank too much last night and Eurydice called me because she was worried you wouldn’t make it home safely.”
“So your solution was to bring me to your place?”