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“Like, the god of the underworld?”
“My father was a little obsessed with Greek mythology. Don’t change the subject. Hand over the pot.”
She sighs. “I don’t even have it. They came over with some, but all they wanted to do was talk football and play shitty music. So I hung out in my room and played my own stuff.” She sighs, glaring at me. “I didn’t even smoke any. Happy?”
“I mean, yes, I suppose?”
“Can I go back to my room now?”
“We’re going to talk more about this later, but yeah.”
“Can’t wait.”
Nora turns and snags a stack of magazines off the coffee table before she starts to head down the hall.
“Yeah, I’ll take that pot now.”
She stiffens, turning to shoot a wary look at Hades.
“What?”
“The bag of weed you just scooped up with those magazines. I mean, props for trying. That was a nice move. But I feel like you’re not really the target demographic forLegal Digestmagazine.”
I blink, just now realizing what magazines Nora picked up. She glares at Hades, her lips zipped before she marches over and dumps the stack back onto the table, plucking out the little Ziploc bag of weed shoved between two issues.
“Narc,” she mutters, handing it to Hades before she whirls and stomps down the hall. I flinch when her door slams shut, then exhale slowly.
“Thank you,” I mutter under my breath, not looking at him.
Trying not to think about the fact that less than an hour ago, this man looked me in the eye and told mehe knows.
Game over. Secret well and truly spilled.
Hades knows what happened at Club Venom. I can tell myself that he doesn’t as much as I like, but all that’s going to do is make me look ridiculous.
I slept with the god of war.
And he damn well knows it.
“I need a drink,” I blurt, striding into the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of vodka out of the freezer. “Do you want one?”
I’m scrupulously avoiding direct eye contact with him, as I have been ever since the restaurant. But I catch the slight shrug of his broad shoulder out of the corner of my eye.
“Sure.”
What am I doing? Why do Iwantto keep him here?
But somehow here I am: pouring two vodkas over ice, handing him one, and walking outside to the balcony with Hades right behind me. I stare out at the glittering lights of Chelsea and the west side of Manhattan as I take a slow slug of my drink, my pulse still thudding from the heated exchange with my sister.
And from what just spilled out that we’re not talking about, apparently.
“I don’t get it.”
I frown, glancing back at him. “Get what?”
“You’ve got this killer career, a great apartment—”
“Oh, please, I’m sure your penthouse or wherever you live is much nicer.”
