A Scent of Greek

by Tina Folsom

  “Will the bride be wearing white?” Sophia’s voice penetrated Ari’s mind what seemed like hours later. Before her addled brain could form an answer, Sophia continued chattering. “What am I saying? Of course, you’ll be wearing white. I can recommend a great boutique.”

  Ari grasped at the straw she recognized in Sophia’s words. “I think we’ll have to postpone. One week is not enough time to get a dress fitted. These things take time.” She shot Dio a pleading look. “None of the wedding dresses in the shop actually ever fit anybody without major alterations.” This would do it; it would buy her some time.

  But Sophia gave a dismissive wave with her hand. “Don’t worry about that. I know for a fact that the seamstress’ model at that boutique is exactly your size, so I’m confident each of her dresses will fit you like a glove.”

  Ari felt like screaming, but instead she forced a smile onto her lips. “That’s … uh, so lucky.”

  “Perfect. I’ll have her contact you for an appointment.” Sophia made a note in her planner. “Now about the catering.”

  “Let’s use Olympus,” Dio suggested.

  Ari turned to look at him, something in his words sounding odd. How would Dio know the name of a catering company? Was he starting to remember things? Was his memory coming back? “Olympus?”

  A fleeting look of panic crossed his handsome features before he quickly replied, “Yes, I saw an advertisement in a bridal magazine I browsed through. And the food sounded delicious.”

  “You looked at a bridal magazine?” She’d never heard of any man doing that.

  “Well, one of us has to.”

  And it sure wasn’t going to be her, he got that right.

  “Olympus will be just fine. They are very … prompt,” Triton said. “And cost effective.”

  Ari felt like she was being steamrolled. Decision after decision was being made, items ticked off a list she never saw, and plans made she had no intention of being part of. Yet somehow her lips didn’t seem to be capable of voicing another protest. And why would they when Dio would simply ignore those too? He was firmly set on getting this wedding organized.

  “Guests?” she heard Sophia ask.

  “The bride’s family, parents, cousins … uh, Ari, I’m sorry, but I think you need to help me out here.” Then Dio gave Sophia and Triton an apologetic look. “I suffer from amnesia. Accident, you know.”

  Seeing another opening for a protest, Ari took it. “Dio, I think it would be better if you recovered from your accident first before we went ahead with the wedding.”

  “I’m feeling perfectly fine.”

  “But it’s been only a couple of weeks.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I’m perfectly healthy.”

  Clearly, he wouldn’t give in.

  “So, how many are there in your family?”

  Ari swallowed. She couldn’t do this to her parents. They’d gone through it once before, and it had all ended in disappointment. Just like it would this time. “They can’t travel on such short notice. Dad will have to find somebody to watch over the store, and Mom can’t just up and go. They’ve got responsibilities. And then the flights. It’s still tourist season, it’s probably all booked out anyway. And the drive would be too long.” More and more excuses rushed from her lips. “And knowing Mom, she’s got nothing to wear. It’ll take her a month to find the right outfit.”

  ***

  Dio recognized desperate excuses when he heard them. And Ari was rambling, grasping at every tiny straw she saw. Not that it would help: he was in charge now, and this wedding was on its way, no matter her flimsy excuses.

  It was time to stop her from thinking with her mind and time to make her feel with her heart. What had Zeus said? Appeal to Ari’s true self, to her deepest wishes and hopes.

  “Would you excuse us for a moment?” Dio smiled at Sophia and caught a barely suppressed scowl by Triton. His friend had made his opinion on the subject known when Dio had called to announce their arrival and his plan. Triton still thought he was playing with Ari’s feelings. Sure, he was steamrolling Ari with this wedding, but it was for her own good. She just didn’t realize that yet. He wasn’t like his father after all: he could love, truly love. He’d be a faithful husband.

  With a soft press of his palm against Ari’s back, he urged her to rise, and led her inside, heading for the bathroom, which he knew would be the only room on this floor that provided any sort of privacy.

  “Dio, what are you—”

  “Just a moment, baby,” he interrupted and shoved her into the bathroom, squeezed in behind her and locked the door.

  She instantly turned to him, her eyes glaring. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m only making sure we won’t be disturbed. Because it looks like we have to discuss something.”

  He saw her swallow hard and knew where her mind was wandering to. But he wouldn’t allow her to go to the place where she suddenly confessed her lies to him. No, he didn’t want a confession, not now anyway. After their wedding maybe. What he needed right now was her compliance, and they wouldn’t leave this bathroom until he’d secured it.

  Dio pulled her against him, resting his cheek against hers and stroking his hand through her hair while his other hand encircled her waist. “I know you’re scared, baby. Getting married is a big step. I understand that, but you have nothing to worry about. I love you more than anybody else in my life.”

  “But you don’t remember anything. How can you know?”

  Dio took her hand, pressing her palm against his chest. “I feel it.” His heart beat into her palm, and at that moment, he felt as if Ari owned his heart, as if he wasn’t master of it any longer. He could no longer dismiss the feeling.

  He locked eyes with her and kissed her.

  At first, her response was stiff, and he knew why: she realized he was trying to seduce her into marrying him. While the kiss might have started as that and while he should feel like a scoundrel for doing what he did, the moment her lips parted and he swept his tongue inside, all thought fled his lust-drugged mind. Only one remained: he wanted Ari.

  When her tongue stroked against his and her arms came around his neck, he groaned out his pleasure. He planted his hands on her all-too-delectable backside and dragged her against his growing erection. She could do that to him with one kiss, get him hard in an instant when he’d had no intention going there today, not when he knew that all it would serve was to leave him wanting more. But now that she was pressed against him, kissing him back with total abandon, he couldn’t stop himself from grinding his cock against her soft center.

  Breathing hard, he tore his lips from her and released her. Then he stepped back, pleased to see the soft glow on her face and the sheen of desire in her eyes. “Ari, I know we didn’t start this off right, so I want to at least do this part right.”

  He reached into his pocket, his fingers closing around the little box he’d put there earlier. As he pulled it out, he dropped to one knee, opened the box and looked up at her. “Will you marry me next week, Ariadne?”

  He held the ring out to her, but didn’t look at the sparkling diamond. All he wanted to see was the response in her eyes. Her face twitched and her breath caught, her chest heaving uncontrollably. Her eyes bounced from the ring to him and back as her jaw dropped.

  Dio smiled. She hadn’t expected this at all. He would pat himself on the shoulder if he wasn’t so anxious to hear her reply. His own heartbeat hammered into his throat. Was this how men all around the world felt at that moment? Totally vulnerable and at a woman’s mercy?

  “Ari, I need your answer.”

  She nodded, her lips pressed together, trembling.

  “Is that a ‘yes, I’m going to answer’ or a ‘yes, I’ll marry you’?”

  When she didn’t answer, Dio took the ring and slowly slid it onto her finger, giving her enough time to pull back if she wasn’t in agreement.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  He rose slowly, he
r words flowing through him like an endless stream of warmth. Without haste, he cupped her face and drew her closer until his lips hovered over hers. “And I love you.” How it had happened, he didn’t know, but he knew with absolute certainty that he was telling the truth.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “It would have been easier to teleport,” Hermes commented for the fifth time.

  Dionysus held firm on his friend’s shoulder as they flew across the sky, helped by Hermes’ winged sandals. “And pass up an opportunity to fly like a bird? Fat chance.” He enjoyed the breeze that ruffled his hair and cooled his body.

  His friend grinned back at him. “You’re just as bad as Triton.”

  “That’s because of all the gods you’ve got one of the coolest gadgets out there.” In fact, Dio had no gadget. Eros had his bow and arrow; Triton possessed a conch shell with which to calm the oceans, and even Aesculapius carried a staff to cure illnesses with. All Dio had was a permanent hankering for wine and sex. And at present, a permanent hard-on thanks to Ari’s self-imposed chastity.

  “If you hadn’t had a hangover when Zeus handed those winged sandals out, maybe you would have gotten them instead, and I’d be the god watching the grapes grow while reclining with a glass of wine in one hand and a saucy wench in the other.”

  Dio wrinkled his forehead. “You’re envious because you think I’ve got it so easy? Let me tell you making sure those grapes grow to perfection is an art form. If I wasn’t constantly checking on their sugar content and negotiating with Helius the amount of sun they get, there wouldn’t be any decent wine anywhere.”

  Hermes huffed. “Yeah, yeah. Just saying. I’m constantly on the road. Just for once, I’d love to put my feet up and just hang. Do you have any idea how depressing it can get to ferry those poor souls over Styx, knowing they’ll be doomed to stay in Hades’ Underworld for eternity?”

  “Hades isn’t all that bad. He's made a lot of improvements lately. Apparently they have indoor plumbing now.”

  Hermes made a face. “I know that, but those poor souls don’t. They whine the entire trip over.”

  “Why don’t you just tell them what it’s really like there?”

  Hermes gave him a stunned look. “What, and spoil the surprise? That’s half the fun of my job.”

  Dio shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Just watch out that you don’t start whining like your passengers.”

  Hermes suddenly pointed his arm down toward earth. “We’re almost there.”

  Dio followed his outstretched hand as they descended. Below them, a small town came into view. As they approached and Hermes slowed his speed, Dio looked at the quaint houses with their pitched roofs, the clean streets with trees on the sidewalks, the neatly tended front yards, and the white picket fences.

  Hermes steered clear of the busy main road.

  “Where are we landing?”

  Hermes pointed toward a wooded area. “In the park. I can get us down right in the middle of it where the brush is the thickest. I doubt anybody will see us. I can always engulf us in a cloud if we need cover while descending.” The mortals would simply assume that fog was building.

  Moments later, Dio felt solid ground under his feet again and released his grip on Hermes’ shoulder. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Sure. Do you want me to wait here or do you need a wingman?”

  Dio tilted his head. “I might need some support.” After all, what he was planning was delicate to say the least. “This way.”

  It took only five minutes to find the address he was looking for and another five minutes to find the nerve to knock on the door. When he heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the entrance door to the small single family home with the neatly trimmed hedge in front, he straightened.

  “Gods, you actually look nervous.” Hermes gloated.

  “I haven’t done this before.”

  “It’ll get easier the second time.” Hermes slapped him on his back.

  “There won’t be a second time. And besides, I’m not sure how much weight I can give to your statement, considering it’s coming from a guy who hasn’t done this either.”

  Hermes opened his mouth, but in the same instant the door opened and a woman in her late fifties looked at them. “Yes?” She wiped her hands on a dishtowel.

  Dio cleared his throat. “I’m Dionysus Theos, and this is my friend and colleague Hermes Ferryman. We’re here to bring you some good news.” At least he hoped she considered it good news.

  The woman’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Behind her, a man’s voice emerged. “Who is it, Marianne?”

  She scowled. “Jehova’s Witnesses again.”

  Before Dionysus could respond to her incorrect assumption, she slammed the door shut.

  “And they always interrupt when I’m preparing dinner,” she continued grumbling behind the closed door.

  “Ferryman? That’s the best you could do for a name for me?”

  Dio growled, “You ferry souls over Styx; what else should I call you? I don’t know what name you use in the mortal world.”

  “It sure isn’t Ferryman,” Hermes hissed and gestured toward the closed door. “See how well that went.”

  “Maybe it would have been better if I’d come alone.”

  “Too late. I’m not leaving now. Can’t wait to see how you get them to listen to you now.”

  Dio lifted his hand and knocked again. This time the door only opened by a fraction.

  “We’re not interested,” Marianne said.

  Before she could slam the door in his face a second time, he wedged his foot between door and frame and tried a different approach. “Are you the mother of Ariadne Taylor?”

  Suddenly the pressure on the door eased, and it opened fully. The woman’s face looked ashen, the blood quickly draining from her cheeks and lips. Despite the age difference, Dio noticed the family resemblance, the same green eyes as Ari’s, the same strong cheekbones. Only her mother’s hair was darker, and her lips not as full as Ari’s.

  “Oh, God, no, what happened to my baby?” Her eyes widened in panic.

  Ah, shit! Maybe he should have let Hermes talk instead. “Nothing. Everything’s fine. She’s fine.”

  As her breathing steadied, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Then who are you? What do you want?”

  “I don’t envy you,” Hermes muttered under his breath. Dio jabbed him in the ribs and gave him a look to tell him to shut up, before he pasted his most charming smile onto his lips. “I’m Dio, and I’m your future son-in-law.”

  “W-w …” Then she swayed, and all Dio could do was reach for her and catch her before she collapsed.

  “Ah, shit!”

  Footsteps approached, and someone entered the foyer. Dio looked up and saw a man, equally in his late fifties or early sixties enter the foyer, his mouth open in shock.

  “Oh, God! Marianne!” As he rushed to his wife, he glared at Dio. “What happened?”

  The man tore his wife from Dio’s arms. “Marianne, honey!” But she was still out. “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything.” This was maybe not the perfect time to introduce himself to his future father-in-law.

  Hermes cleared his throat, making both Dio and the woman’s husband look up at him. “My friend here, he told your wife that he’s planning to marry your daughter Ariadne. It seemed to have been a bit of a shock to her.”

  The man snapped his head back to Dio, stunned and not at all pleased. “Oh, no, not again!”

  Dio tossed an angry glare at his friend.

  “Well, at least he didn’t faint,” Hermes commented and shrugged.

  Ten minutes later, both Hermes and Dio were sitting in the living room, opposite George and Marianne Taylor, each with a glass of iced tea in their hands.

  “Honey, the sugar,” George prompted his wife. As she left the room, he rushed to get up and reached behind a set of books on the bookshelf. When he turned, Dio noticed a small bottle of liquor in his hands
. “Don’t know about you, but I need a drink now.”

  In unison, Dio and Hermes stretched out their hands with the glasses. By the time Marianne came back with a sugar bowl, all three glasses were sufficiently spiked with alcohol to make Dio relax a little, or as relaxed as he would be if facing the Spanish Inquisition. Now, those guys knew how to put a man through the wringer.

  “So you wanna marry Ari?” his future mother-in-law started the conversation.

  “I love your daughter.” And by the gods, it was the truth. Even if that meant acquiring a mother-in-law with a slightly sour disposition.

  “What do you do, Mr. Theos?” George asked.

  Dio swallowed. “Please call me Dio.”

  Ari’s father nodded. “Dio, what is it you earn a living with?”

  “I own a vineyard.” Not only that. As the god of wine he earned a tiny percentage on each and every bottle of wine ever produced in the mortal world. But there was no need to go into that. They would figure out soon enough how filthy rich he was.

  “And where is this vineyard located?”

  “In Napa, California.”

  “I’m assuming this can be verified?”

  Dio’s eyebrows snapped together. Why was this man so mistrustful of him? “Mr. Taylor, is there a reason why this is important to you? I can assure you that I have sufficient money to support a family.”

  George steepled his fingers and pursed his lips. “So you want to marry her?” he repeated. Then he exchanged a short look with his wife before he trained his eagle eyes back on Dio. “And why isn’t she the one telling us that?”

  Dio was prepared for that question. “She’s so nervous about the whole affair. You know, the dress, the cake, everything. She didn’t want you to get stressed out about it too, so we decided that we’d fly you in just before the wedding so there’ll be no jitters. So that’s—”

  “Stop making excuses for her, young man!” the father interrupted him. “She doesn’t know that you’re here, does she?”

  Dio wanted to protest, but the serious look in George’s face made him reconsider. “No, Sir, she doesn’t know.”