by Sotia Lazu
This place is subverting sexism, hiring male eye-candy.
The gorgeous blond in front of me cracks a smile, revealing perfect, white teeth. “You must be Irine,” he says in a voice as smooth and delicious as the rest of him. “My assistant called you. I’m Hermes Olympios, Head of HR for Olympian Hotels and Resorts.”
Another Olympios? Is he the owner’s son? And what is it with the Ancient Greek names? Are they dodekatheists or something? I’ve never met someone who believes in the twelve gods of Mount Olympus before, but that doesn’t mean people who do aren’t out there. Or in here.
“I’m the big guy’s brother,” Hermes says, as if he read my mind. “One of them. Come. He’s waiting for you, and he hates waiting.” He trains his gaze over my shoulder and nods.
I step out of the car and turn to say goodbye to Hades, but he’s looking at his phone, back to the wall beside the elevator and brows drawn together.
Oh well. Not everyone is a morning person.
“This way,” Hermes says.
I follow him to the second door to the right. Must be an office or—
A bedroom. As wide and long as my apartment. There’s a mini living room in here, and it’s not really that mini. A fireplace—marble, of course—takes up one corner. The far left wall is made entirely of glass, wispy-thin curtains draping to the floor like a silver waterfall.
The humongous four-poster bed in the center, not even touching any of the walls, is unmade, rumpled white sheets and half a dozen pillows tossed together in a heap.
A tall man in a bathrobe as white and fluffy as a cloud leans against the bed. His wet hair is brushed back from his freshly shaved face, and his robe can’t hide his impressively wide chest.
What the—
“Told you I’d be seeing you soon.”
I recognize his voice before my conscious brain makes the connection.
Sei.
—fuck.
“You.” The word springs from my lips before I can stop it.
Sei—Sei, from Poseidon—smiles like a shark. I want to taste that smile and slap it from his lips at the same time.
“And you.” He rounds the bed toward Hermes and me, and I step back as he brushes past me to sink into an overlarge armchair. “Please, make yourself comfortable,” he says, pointing at the sofa.
Hermes gestures toward it too. “Come. Sit. He doesn’t bite.” He shows no surprise that his brother and I obviously know each other. Did Sei tell him about the plane? Could Sei have known who I was? How? I didn’t even introduce myself.
God, I didn’t even introduce myself before he fingered me.
No thinking about that. No losing it, either. He didn’t know who I was, and I’m being paranoid.
Unless Sei saw my ticket or remembered my face from the low-definition black-and-white picture attached to my CV, and knew perfectly well who he was screwing with. Assuming he didn’t look up interviewees on social media. Is he just a wannabe member of the Mile High club, or is he a sick fuck?
And why am I still here?
When I don’t move, Hermes nudges my shoulder. He sits on the second armchair, and I make my way to the couch and sit upright, tote in my lap. No. I should be leaving. Even in the off chance I’m a perfect fit for the job, I could never work for a guy who’s fingered me to orgasm on a plane—or in a car or in a freaking palace of an apartment or anywhere, because possible orgasming locations are so not the point.
Plus, there’s no way he’ll hire me.
“Did you know who I was?” I keep my voice steady and my gaze on his face. “When we met?” There. That’s vague enough. I steal a glance at Hermes. His lips give an almost imperceptible twitch. He knows. He knew before I set foot in here.
Sei arches an eyebrow.
I spring upright so fast, my tote topples to the floor. At least it’s zipped. “I’m gonna go. This isn’t going to work out.”
“Sit.” Sei’s barked order sinks into my bones, heavy enough to pull me back down onto the cushions.
Screw the bag. I’ll get it later.
I unbutton my suit, but that does nothing for the heat spreading inside me. “Why?” Why should I stay? Why would he do what he did? I want to fiddle. Sitting demurely, my legs crossed at the ankles, doesn’t feel natural when I want to bolt. I need to get my racing pulse under control, but I can’t stop staring at his long, thick fingers, splayed over the fluffy cotton covering his thighs.
Sei chuckles, and the sound vibrates through me, all the way to the core. “Because I need to interview you. Need to know how good you are. For the position.” His words and tone are fraught with innuendo. What position does he have in mind? ’Cause I doubt it’s the one I applied for.
My horrible, incorrigible brain chooses this moment to go through a play-by-play of our last encounter. His scent fills my nostrils. The ghost of his touch between my legs makes me shiver, and I squeeze my thighs together.
I can’t be here.
Chapter Seven – Sei
Her hands are fisted so tightly, her knuckles have gone white. She’s going to run if I don’t do something.
I’m not worried; I’ll always be able to find her. But I don’t want her to go, anyway. Seeing her again makes me feel...
It makes me feel.
She makes me feel.
I want to feel more of her, but now is not the time. “I didn’t know,” I say. “At the airport, I didn’t know who you were.”
Hermes looks at me, startled. The accusation in his eyes bugs me less than the bitterness the lie left on my tongue. I never lie. Don’t need to. I can talk most people into anything, with or without my compulsion power—which doesn’t seem to work on Irine anyway.
So why do I compound on this deception? “You just seemed to need a break,” I say. And a release.
Hermes shakes his head. He doesn’t get to be disappointed in me. I must keep her. Bond her. Ascend. Our lives’ purpose depends on it.
Pink spreads up Irine’s slender throat and to her cheeks, and she drops her gaze. Straightens the hem of her too-proper skirt. Picks invisible lint from her jacket. “Needed a lot of things.”
And I’m almost certain she only thought that, didn’t say it aloud. Has the bonding begun? How? On the plane, I was able to send my thoughts to her, though I couldn’t access hers until she was lost in pleasure.
Nah, it’s not the bonding. My compulsion powers aren’t yet as strong as they will be when I sit on my throne, and I cannot affect strong-willed humans unless they’re distracted. My Irine is strong willed, but luckily, impending orgasm is as effective a distraction as any.
My Irine. Mine.
I clear my throat and reach for her CV, where it lies on the coffee table beside my notebook computer. “It says here you have an MBA, but none of your working experience in the hospitality sector has been in a managerial position. So tell me, Ms. Anastasaki, what makes you qualified to run an upscale hotel?” I’m going to hire her anyway—I have people to do the actual running of the hotel while I let her think she’s in charge—but my selection process must at least appear professional.
Irine squares her shoulders, back ramrod straight, and pins me with her gaze again. This isn’t the frazzled girl who couldn’t fly out of London soon enough, or the wanton woman who shuddered in pleasure for me. She’s a predator, here to claim what is hers.
“I am smart. Very smart. A quick learner. Good with people. They trust me and look at me for direction.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “Guess you could say I’m born to lead. And if you wait till I have a decade’s experience managing a hotel, you won’t be able to afford me.”
No fake modesty. No awkward pauses. No effort to undersell herself.
This female intrigues me, and if I were the sort of man who knew fear, that would terrify me. Being who I am, I’m filled with wild glee at the prospect of making her mine.
I watch her face as I ask, “What about London? Are you willing to relocate there, when training is complete in three months? Le
ave your family behind? Maybe say goodbye to a boyfriend?”
Her eyelids flutter, and her jaw tightens for a heartbeat, before she says, “My parents understand I’m building a career. They’ll be happy for me. Plus I’ve lived in London before. The energy of the city is good for me.”
“And the boyfriend?” I insist, despite Hermes’ glare. Whether he’s doing his job as HR Manager or Little Brother, he doesn’t like my prying into her personal life, and he’s probably right. It won’t do to scare her away with my very inappropriate and utterly unprofessional interest.
Irine doesn’t seem intimidated. “No boyfriend in Greece,” she says defiantly.
I lick my lips. “How about the one you were running from on Saturday?”
Hermes lands me a mental slap upside the head, but I shake off our mental link.
Irine’s near-palpable shock confirms my suspicions. “How did you know?”
C has had people reporting to us on her every major decision since she became of age, so I know about her long-term relationship.
Now ask me if I care.
Nope. Don’t give a flying fuck about the guy. Irine belongs to me forever. He’s temporary, and I’ll make sure he never touches her again. Besides, a couple days ago, she was in a hurry to escape the city said guy was in, and she didn’t think of him once while I pleasured her.
Doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together—their relationship is on rocky ground at best.
“Are you hoping to work things out by moving there?” I ask before I can stop myself.
She gives me a speculative look. “There’s nothing to work out.” Despite her cool demeanor, she’s frazzled, which allows me to glean her thoughts. From her mind, I pick the word unsalvageable and a too-graphic image of a guy’s ass flexing. One pale thigh on either side of it completes the picture. The dick was caught cheating.
I’d rather Irine let him go because of her intense attraction to yours truly, but I’ll count their breakup as a win anyway.
“If I hire you, I will demand your full dedication. To the job.” I give her a lopsided grin. It’s been known to weaken women’s knees in the past.
Irine arches an eyebrow, seemingly unaffected. “The London Olympian will be my Number One priority.”
I study her beautiful hazel eyes and let a tendril of my will caress her mind. She means it. She wants to focus on the hotel. Isn’t interested in romantic entanglements. And that annoys me.
“Assuming you get the job, I will be the one conducting your training,” I say. “For the next three months, I will be your mentor. You’ll be shadowing me around the clock. Will you be able to overlook our first meeting and build a solid professional relationship with me?” Because I’m an asshole, I project to her a mental image of my head buried between her smooth, soft thighs. I trail my imaginary tongue up her slit, and Irine squirms.
She presses her thighs together and tilts her head to the side, eyebrow reaching for her hairline. “Will you?”
In my mind, she’s pumping her hips, rubbing her pussy against my face, her hand fisted in my hair. Her skirt is riding high on her hips, and her shirt is undone and halfway down her arms, her jacket bunched with it and perky nipples pushing through the lace of her bra.
Only that’s not my thought. It’s hers. Has she figured out what I’m doing, or is this coming to her naturally?
It takes everything I have to remind myself my brother is sitting a meter to my left and may be picking up on my thoughts. This isn’t the time to indulge in my fantasies or Irine’s. My cock doesn’t get the memo. It stands at attention, and I’m not sure holding the sheets of paper at an angle hides her effect on it.
“I believe I’m going to enjoy having you working under me,” I say. I’ll make sure she does too, but I don’t let my expression betray my intentions. To the casual observer, I’m calm. Composed. All business. In truth, I’m throbbing with need.
I toss her CV on the table and sneak one palm in my pocket, to stop my erection from slipping out of my bathrobe, as I stand and hold out my other hand.
Irine looks at it, a puzzled expression on her face.
“You’re hired,” I say.
“Just like that? You barely asked me anything about my studies or previous positions.” Even the frown looks gorgeous on her, and the way she purses her full lips makes me ache to taste them.
“I know all I need to.” Literally. Her CV may only be two pages long, but I have a folder on her as thick as my wrist in my office, and I know its contents by heart. “You’ll be a perfect fit.” For the job too, possibly.
She bounces upright and grabs my hand for a solid shake. “Thank you so much. I won’t let you down.” Her smile beams brighter than the sun, warming my weary soul.
And apparently I’m now a fucking poet.
Get a grip, Sei.
I nod. “I’ll be expecting you tomorrow at six.”
“In the morning?” she squeaks.
In my most serious tone, I reply, “Morning workouts are good for the brain. Wear a sports outfit and sneakers. And I’ll have a double espresso. No sugar.”
“I’ll be here.”
“Good.” I reclaim my seat and pull my notebook on my lap, to show how very busy I am, and not to hide my hard-on. “Hermes will show you out. He’ll also have a contract prepared for you by Thursday. It was a pleasure seeing you again, Ms. Anastasaki.”
“You too.”
I don’t look up as they leave. If I have to watch her delectable ass sway one more time, I may not be held accountable for my actions.
The elevator doors open with a ping, and Irine Anastasaki is gone. For now.
Chapter Eight – Irine
I did it. I got the job.
I’ll be working under Sei.
Sei, in his bathrobe, his scent so enticingly and mouth-wateringly male.
After the oddest, shortest interview in the history of interviews.
That left me soaking wet and aching with need.
I feel like squealing and pumping my fists in the air, but Hades and Hermes may not appreciate the childish behavior.
There are other things I want to do they might not appreciate. Like go back upstairs and climb in the boss’s lap.
Should I be happy about this, though? I mean, there are two possible reasons Sei—Poseidon Olympios—hired me on the spot. Either he believes in me, or he believes this will help him be in me.
And like that, my glee sours in my stomach and sends bile roiling up my throat. Did he just hire me so he’d fuck me?
Weirdly, that shuts up my lustful inner voice.
If he was the kind of guy to make a move on the women he employs, he’d have done it before. There would be something about it out there. Unless he pays them off well enough to keep their mouths shut.
Is he fucking all the pretty women working in the lobby?
And why do I feel nauseous all of a sudden?
No. He wouldn’t hire me as a freaking hotel manager, with a six-figure starting salary, to get in my pants. Plus, he’s sort of been there already, and that was before I ever knew who he was.
Nope. This is totally my win, and I’m going to celebrate it. I should call Mom. I reach for my phone in my back pocket, only there’s no phone there—or a back pocket, for that matter. I’m not in jeans today, and I’m carrying my sleek, cool tote. Not at this moment, though.
Shit. Forgot my tote upstairs.
I’ll need to go back. To face Sei again. My stomach flips, and this time it isn’t unpleasant at all. Is this anticipation? For what? Seeing him for two seconds, admitting to being a scatterbrain who forgot her bag, and saying goodbye again?
To see him again. Inhale his cologne again. Feel his palm linger around mine again.
“Hermes,” I say, because Hades is a little scary, “you need to take me back to the penthouse.”
Hades drops his head back against the mirrored wall with a thud. He digs his hand in his pocket, fishes out a fifty-euro note, and smacks it in
to Hermes’ chest.
Hermes chuckles. “Sure thing.” He pries the money from Hades’ grasp and pockets it. “Are we in a hurry? Like, do I need to stop the elevator car, or can I drop this loser off at the lobby first?”
Hades grunts and punches his shoulder, none too friendly.
Hermes laughs again.
I like his easygoing nature, but it kind of feels like part of his mirth is at my expense.
“Don’t mind the brute,” he says. “He’s the broody brother.”
I look from him to Hades and back again. “He’s your brother too?”
“Sadly,” Hades murmurs.
“And your names are your real names?” I can’t help myself; I need to know.
Hermes nods, a smile lingering on his lips.
I bite my lips together, but it doesn’t keep me quiet long enough. “I hope this doesn’t cost me my job, but are your parents really into mythology or something?”
Hades chuckles, and the sound is unexpectedly beautiful. “I like her,” he says. His face goes stony again, but his eyes sparkle. Maybe he’s not that bad after all.
Hermes pats my shoulder. “Yeah. I think she’s just what the doctor prescribed.” When I look questioningly at him, he adds, “For the London hotel. It hasn’t been doing that well, and your fresh perspective should help.”
Sounds like bullshit, but we reach the lobby, and both of them step out of the elevator. Hermes reaches back inside, to use a key like the one Hades had and press the button for the penthouse. “Take your time. You don’t need the key on the way down.”
I have the distinct feeling he believes I’m going up there for more than my bag, but there’s no time to debate it. Doors slide shut, and up I go.
Okay. I’m going in, getting the bag, saying something witty, and then leaving. No lingering. No being drawn into a conversation, innuendo-filled or otherwise, and allowing myself to daydream about—
Doors open, and he’s standing there, holding up my tote. “Forgot something?”
Yes. How to breathe, when my gaze falls to where his robe has slid open to reveal the sculpted muscle beneath it. The smattering of coarse dark hair on his chest does nothing to diminish its lickability, and God, I wanna see where that happy trail ends.
