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“No one is going to hurt you while you are in this house. I don’t think any of the guys messed with your car, but if it will make you feel better, whenever you go out, I’ll be your bodyguard.” He kisses my cheek then whispers in my ear, “I will keep you safe.”
“Really? You would do that?” I move out of his arms so I can look him in the eye. “What if it means going against your friends?”
“Without hesitation.” There isn’t a hint of a lie on his face. He means every word.
“Why? What changed between the day you met me when you instantly hated me, to now?”
Paris rubs his jaw while he thinks about his answer. I wait patiently, wanting him to think about this. I want the truth, but I know it can take a moment to put such a sudden, complex shift into words.
“I got to know you,” he eventually says. “When you came here, we all assumed you were just here to steal the money Freya left to Perseus. Now that we have really talked and gotten to know each other, I know that isn’t you. I know you came looking for your mother because you needed answers. I also know you are stubborn as fuck, much like your mother. If Perseus hadn’t challenged you when you first met, and instead talked to you like a person, I think you would have let him have it all. Except for maybe your mom’s personal diaries and a few mementoes. Thankfully, Perseus is as stubborn as you are.”
“Thankfully?”
Paris gives me a slow smile and nods. “I guess I am a little thankful for all this bullshit and drama. If civility had won out over hot heads, then you wouldn’t be living here, and I might not have gotten the chance to know how amazing you are.” He looks at me with his bright eyes shining through his glasses. “And I have enjoyed getting to know everything about you. So let me protect you. Let me keep you safe from the monsters under your bed.”
He pulls me in for a slow feverish kiss that leaves me gasping for more. I don’t know what happened with the others, but Paris doesn’t seem worried about his friends walking in on us making out. Part of me wonders if this is his way of staking a claim on me in front of the others, or just showing that he doesn’t see me as the enemy anymore.
After a while, Paris tells me he must go home to check on his mother. She’s been sick lately. But he won’t leave until I promise him I will stay inside the mansion for the rest of the night. There is another party tomorrow, so I swear to him I’m going to stay in to make sure everything is ready. He kisses me again at the front door before leaving for the night with his computer tucked under his arm.
“Well, that was a hot kiss. Where’s mine?” Eros’s voice comes from behind me, making me jump.
“You don’t get one.” I push past him and start heading for my room.
“Hey”—he grabs my arm to stop me from going upstairs—“stop for a second. I just want to talk to you.”
I pull my arm from his hand. I don’t think he’s the one that messed with my car, but I can’t be sure. “So, talk.” My words come out harsher than I mean them, but with Paris leaving me here with the rest of the men who may all want me dead, I’m on edge.
“I just wanted to see if you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Is that it?”
“You’re fine? Then you have bigger balls than I do. I would be terrified if I thought someone was trying to kill me.”
“Are you?” I ask.
“Am I what?”
“Trying to kill me?”
Something almost like hurt flashes across his eyes.
“No, I’m not.” His voice is hard now. “I wouldn’t hurt you. I thought you knew that.”
“I know nothing about you other than how you sext.” I shrug. “To you, I’m nothing but a distraction while you bide your time for this shit show to be over.”
He says nothing and clenches his jaw as he turns away.
Guilt twists in my stomach as I watch him walk away from me. But it’s the truth. I don’t really know him. Yeah, we stay up most nights sending each other dirty messages, but that’s it. We haven’t talked about our personal lives, where we come from, what we want. It’s all sex. So how can I know if he cares about me or it’s an act to let my guard down?
I go back to my room and think about it. Do I trust Eros? I want to. I really do, but all I know about him is he is dominant and sexy as sin. And, apparently, he has several fetishes he likes to explore mostly on the darker side. His words make my body ache for the things his texts promise. That is all surface level for him. I know so many men like that who hide their true motivations under charm and sex. I can’t afford to let him do that to me.
