“Eros…” She shakes her head, her expression turning inward. “Never mind. I suppose it doesn’t matter.”
I suddenly desperately want to know what she almost said. Was she going to mention the way she caught me staring at her mouth? She’d bitten her lip in response to that look. I don’t think she even realized she did it. Just like I don’t think she realized she glanced at my mouth for several long seconds before she shook off the moment. If we were anyone else, in any other situation, I might have kissed her then.
I might have pulled her down onto my lap and coaxed all the wariness right out of her. First with a kiss, and then a slow seduction that we both would have enjoyed entirely too much.
I shake my head. What the fuck am I thinking? Even if I had crossed that line, it would just make this situation that much worse for both of us. “You’re right. It really doesn’t matter.”
“Like I said.” She clears her throat and straightens. “Okay, let’s get down to business. You wanted to meet to talk about how to guide the media attention away from us. Well, away from you specifically. I’m sure Aphrodite isn’t happy about the whole situation, and you’re not exactly as practiced at dealing with this stuff as I am. I have a few ideas.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“That is why we’re meeting, isn’t it?”
I might fucking kill Hermes for putting that thought into her head. I told the woman to get Psyche here, no matter what she had to say, but I didn’t expect her to use Psyche’s own good nature against her. My stomach drops. “You showed up here because you think I need your help to manipulate the media into chasing after someone else.” As if I haven’t done that very thing on my own before.
The little fool rushed here, threw herself right into my trap without a second thought, because she believed I needed her help.
I think I’m going to be sick.
Psyche goes still. “Isn’t that why we’re meeting?”
“No,” I say almost gently. Gods, I hate myself right now. “That’s not why we’re meeting.”
She clears her throat. “You’re here in your official capacity, then.”
“Yeah.” The word comes out like an apology.
A beat of silence. Another. She draws herself up. “Surely she can’t be that furious about a single photograph?”
“Actually—”
Psyche continues as if I haven’t spoken. “Then again, I suppose it’s not that simple. She and my mother have been feuding for a decade, and she won’t like that Demeter is stepping on her toes. The why doesn’t matter. The bottom line is she’s got nothing to ruin me with. I have no skeletons in my closet. Which means she’ll make some up.” She folds her arms on the table beneath her breasts. “So what’s on the agenda? Will you fabricate some seedy sex scandal? Maybe even attempt to exile me, though good luck with that. My mother won’t stand for it.”
She’s obviously not taking this seriously, and I suddenly need her to be. I don’t know why. My job would be significantly easier if she thought this wasn’t literally life or death. And yet I find myself telling her the truth. “Aphrodite doesn’t want you ruined. She wants you dead.”
Psyche goes pale.
I expect tears. Begging. Maybe even for her to try to run. She does none of those things. After taking a moment to collect herself, she merely squares her shoulders and holds my gaze. “Eros, you strike me as a not-unintelligent man.”
“Thanks,” I say drily. Experience had given me a map of how this conversation would go, and Psyche hasn’t performed to expectations at all. Against my better judgment, a sliver of curiosity wedges itself through my determination to see this through. I knew she was different from anyone I’ve dealt with previously. I suspected she was formidable, but she’s even more than I could have guessed.
“You must realize who I have in my corner. If you do something to me, Persephone will rip you into a million pieces, and Hades will stand by to ensure no one stops her from doing it.” She leans forward, and I can’t help glancing at where her impressive cleavage presses against the V of her sweater. “That’s not even getting into what my mother will do. Unlike Aphrodite, Demeter has no problem getting her hands dirty when the situation calls for it.”
“Are you saying your mother murdered the last Zeus?”
“Of course not.” She snorts. “That’s an unsubstantiated rumor and you know it. Let’s not pretend your mother wouldn’t have pounced on the story and run with it if she had even a shred of evidence.”
She’s not wrong. Still, I find it interesting that she didn’t flat out say Demeter is innocent. The official story might be that Zeus somehow accidentally broke the window in his office and accidentally fell to his death, but everyone knows it’s fiction.