That’s a line I refuse to cross.
I lean back and busy myself putting away the bottles I pulled to make the drink. “You’re losing the battle of public perception on multiple fronts. People don’t like you, and they do like your wife. Normally, you might have been able to garner sympathy that she’s cuckolding you, but people are actively rooting against you at this point. They want you humiliated. They’re downright gleeful at the prospect.”
His brows draw together in a truly fearsome glare. “This city is fucked.”
“You came here and put a target on your back.” I sip my drink even though I don’t feel like drinking anymore now that my anger is fading. “You don’t respect the rules of this place. From the moment you came here, you’ve acted like you’re better than them—than us. Did you honestly think people would thank you for it?”
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.” A dangerous edge has come into his voice. He hasn’t bothered to pretend to be anything other than what he is—a predator—but he dampened it a bit in our previous encounters. This man, though? I fully believe he beat another human to death.
An idea comes to me slowly. It’s a terrible idea, one that will have a good portion of my peers turning against me. I’m not sure I care. I might not want Eris hurt physically, but that doesn’t apply to her reputation. Ultimately, Hephaestus being a member of the Thirteen that the public actively hates weakens the entire ruling body when they need most to project strength.
All for the love of Olympus, right?
I know my smile has taken on an edge, but I can’t quite reclaim the easy expression I normally wear. “I propose a bargain.”
He narrows his eyes. “I’m listening.”
Now’s the time to turn back. Nothing will come from this except more misery. I should be focusing on picking up the pieces of my life created when Eris shattered our relationship. I might garner more pity than I can stomach, but it will pass. Olympus has a long memory on some subjects, but broken relationships are a dime a dozen. No one believed Eris and I would go the distance.
No one except me, apparently.
Admitting how naive I was feels like swallowing acid. “I’ll help you fix your image. In return, you’ll promise not to harm her.”
He sits back slowly. The movement brings into attention the shift of his muscles beneath his button-down shirt. It doesn’t fit quite right, not having been tailored for his sheer size, and even as I notice that, I can’t help the heat that rises in response to his strength. I’ve always been attracted to strength in its many forms; to my detriment, most of the time.
Hephaestus considers me for a long moment. “Why?”
I know better than to hand away a weapon for free, but this is hardly a normal situation. Hephaestus obviously wants to use me against Eris, and I’m angry and hurt enough to be used, but he’s too smart not to check for strings. I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t care what your foster father has planned; you’re weakening the entire body of the Thirteen, which is weakening Olympus as a whole. You need the public on your side now more than ever.”
“I couldn’t give a fuck about what the public thinks.”
“You can’t afford to be that reckless.” And neither can the city. I don’t think for a second that the Thirteen will come together, join hands, and fix things. It doesn’t matter. A stable Thirteen translates to a more stable Olympus.
“You aren’t doing this for the good of the city, or at least that’s not the whole reason.”
He’s not wrong, but he already knows Eris is my weak spot—and I’m hers. No reason to remind him. “Are you worried that you can’t handle anything I can bring to the table?”
He smiles, slow and languid. It completely transforms his face. Oh, he’s still got the brutal beauty, but his smile softens it into something truly devastating. “I can handle anything you throw at me, Adonis. In fact, I look forward to it.” The sheer insinuation in his low voice gives weight to the air in the room, and suddenly it’s hard to draw a full breath.
Gods, he’s dangerous.
I knew that, but he’s been such a blundering, prideful fool since taking the title that it was easy to tell myself I imagined his rough charm from the house party. That I imagined my response to it. “I’m not offering that.”
“Not as part of the bargain,” he agrees easily. Too easily. Before I can reiterate that I’m not, under any circumstances, having sex with the person who’s married to my ex, he continues. “How do you plan to fix my image?” The words have a sarcastic edge, but he looks genuinely curious. “Fight fire with fire?”