“She’s, like, really pretty, isn’t she? Super pretty?”
The elevator opens with a ping. Inside, the paneling is dark walnut, inlaid with pearled numerals that glow softly under the recessed lighting. Who the fuck needs a fancy elevator?
Thea doesn’t wait for any of us to answer her questions as she continues on, her voice growing high-pitched and frantic. “Of course she’s pretty. She’s the Goddess of Beauty. Do you guys think she’s pretty?”
Trap,an inner voice in my head screams.It’s a trap.
None of us answer as the elevator comes to a stop on the very top floor—the penthouse.
Of course Aphrodite is pretty, but I would be an idiot if I confess that out loud.
Thea’s prettier.
I won’t admit that to her, though. The last thing I need is her head getting even bigger than it already is.
The elevator opens directly into the penthouse with a soft, pneumatic sigh.
“Woah,” Thea breathes, stepping slightly in front of us, her head twisting this way and that to take in the sights.
Sunlight filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows like silk, tracing over every available surface—obsidian countertops, mirrored pillars, and floors of dark-stained oak.
At first glance, the apartment is luxury incarnate. It’s all modern furniture in monochromatic colors. Artworks that border between obscene and sensual. A fireplace carved into the walls, with flames eating at the tempered glass.
The only door leads to what appears to be a bathroom. A four-poster bed sits in the center of the large room like an altar, dressed in charcoal silk and flanked by obsidian columns that aren’t just ornamental.
Discreet hooks line the ceilings, one of them still boasting rope. A wall opposite the bed has a shelf full of every sex toy imaginable—butt plugs, anal beads, dildos of all shapes and sizes, cuffs, paddles, whips… All of them are arranged with a surgeon’s precision.
A scent—clean, spiced, and unmistakably carnal—hangs in the air.
“Holy fuck. Aphrodite is freaky,” Thea exclaims, moving towards the wall of toys.
She holds up a leather mask for inspection.
“Put that down,” Krystian whisper-hisses.
Thea drops it immediately…and then moves to the paddles, standing on her tiptoes to grab one off the wall.
“Oh! Look!” She pantomimes spanking the air, her lips pursed in fierce concentration.
It’s…cute.
She’s cute.
How irritating.
“Is she even here?” Zaid murmurs to no one in particular.
“Is that who I think it is?” a somewhat familiar voice coos, high-pitched and lilting. A second later, the bathroom door opens, and Aphrodite steps into the room, smiling sensually. “My boys! What a pleasure.”
I clear my throat and very purposely look away.
Because Aphrodite? She’s wearing virtually nothing.
I catch a glimpse of a black thong and stickers on her nipples, her reddish-brown hair piled in a loose bun at the top of her head.
“Aphrodite,” Zaid says formally. He, too, isn’t looking directly at her, making sure to keep his gaze trained just above her head. “It’s a pleasure.”
“I hate her,” Thea deadpans, finally moving away from the sex toys to stand behind the goddess. “I really, truly hate her. It’s hate at first sight.”
