Hephaestus looks from me in my robe to Pandora in her underwear, his rage something truly outstanding to behold. I lean forward, wondering if he might give himself a stroke from the rise in his blood pressure. Unfortunately, that would be too easy, and he manages to regain control of himself. “Pandora, put your clothes on. We’re going.”
I expect Pandora to hop to obey. She might not be one of Minos’s children—foster, biological, or otherwise—but she’s a part of the household, and the household dances to the tune of the patriarch. Hephaestus is an extension of that will right now.
She doesn’t move. Instead, she frowns. “You don’t get to use that tone with me, Theseus.”
He shoots a look at me, and I’m delighted to see a thread of unease filter through his dark eyes. When he turns back to Pandora, he’s obviously made a small attempt to moderate his tone. “Let’s go.”
“I’m good.”
It takes everything I have to keep my surprise off my face. I’ve underestimated her stubbornness. That shouldn’t delight me. The stakes have never been higher, and my perverse curiosity has gotten me into more trouble than I care to admit. I absolutely cannot afford to have the impulse sink its teeth into me and hold tight.
“Pandora—”
“I’ll get a ride back to the house later.” She walks out of the kitchen and, over the sudden silence that permeates the room, I hear her heading back down the hallway to my bedroom.
Hephaestus levels a murderous look at me. “If you touch her, I’ll kill you.”
“What makes you think I haven’t already touched her?” I permit myself a slow smile. “She’s such a luscious little gem, isn’t she? I’m only human, Husband. I can’t be expected to resist such tempting fruit.” He opens his mouth and I lift a finger. “Ah-ah. She made her choice. Leave.”
For a long moment, I don’t think he will, but he finally curses and exits my apartment. I make my way to the front door and throw the dead bolt. He was so panicked at the thought of me having Pandora, he didn’t even stop to wonder how he was able to get past my doorman and my door.
Foolish man.
He’s playing in the deep end now, and he obviously doesn’t know how to swim.
6
HEPHAESTUS
My knee is a ball of fiery rage as I take the elevator back down to the lobby. I screwed up. Pandora has always been too stubborn by half, and going in there yelling orders was only going to ensure she dug in her heels out of sheer stubbornness. Which she did.
I make it three steps out of the elevator before reality sinks in. I’m not going to make it across the lobby without stumbling. Yesterday was trying, but the thing that fucked me was attempting to run here. I know better, but sometimes I forget my new limits.
No, that’s bullshit. The truth is sometimes I intentionally ignore my new limits.
And I always pay the price.
This place is all black marble, black metal accents, and large windows overlooking the street. As tempting as it is to just push through and not worry about the people who will no doubt witness my weakness, the last two weeks have proven that someone is always watching.
There are a trio of benches in the lobby, separated by tasteful bush things that are undoubtedly real despite their cost to maintain. Olympus is so obsessed with appearances—but only where the rich and powerful spend their time.
I’ve seen the upper warehouse district and some of the more far-flung parts of the city where the Thirteen never roam. It’s not pretty. It’s also familiar. Aeaea is the same, at least in this. The rich control every aspect of their surroundings, and everyone else is left with the castoffs…if they’re lucky.
I make my way to the bench farthest from the windows, each step sending a hot poker of agony through my knee. My phone buzzes before I can attempt to make myself comfortable.
Minos: What the fuck happened last night?
My stomach takes an instinctive plunge in the face of his anger, but no one’s around to see it. Not that there’s anything to see. Showing hurt or guilt or anything other than stone-faced coldness is a good way to make Minos go nuclear. He prizes control over all things, and last night more than proved that I don’t have control of shit. Certainly not my wife.
Still, I’m not about to confess anything.
Me: What are you talking about?
A link appears. I already know what I’ll find before I click it. If someone’s always watching in Olympus, MuseWatch is always reporting. We knew that early on, of course, but even Minos underestimated its power initially.