“Touch or no touch?” the fashion editor demanded.
“What?” I blinked, trying to get my bearings. We stood in front of a white screen, all the light focused on us. Darkness swallowed the rest of the room. People wearing black shirts milled about on the periphery with an air of organized chaos as they chatted into earpieces.
The man groaned. “She really is new.”
“Touch is faster,” Adonis explained. “They put you in the poses they want, but some models aren’t comfortable with that, so they only get verbal instructions.”
“Uh . . .” I didn’t like the idea of being moved around like a puppet.
“It’s a lot faster, and we’re already behind schedule,” Adonis grumbled.
“Yeah, okay. Whatever.”
“All right, let’s get some test shots,” another woman wearing an earpiece called.
“Isn’t this for a clothing line?” I remembered seeing the brand’s stores at the mall covered in black and white photography and blasting loud music. “Shouldn’t we be wearing some?”
Adonis lifted me into the air and spun me around. “Laugh,” he instructed. When I complied, he added, “They find the more their models wear, the less they sell.” Adonis sat me down, and hooked his thumbs through my belt loops, pulling me closer to him. “The pay sucks, but the exposure’s great.”
“Clearly.” I stepped back, giving Adonis an appraising look. He and Poseidon could compete for the title of least-dressed.
Adonis burst out laughing. “Sorry, sorry,” he called to the photographer, before resuming his serious expression.
The photographer flashed him a smile before launching into another set of bewildering instructions like “Act natural,” and “Don’t smile. Pout!”
“Can we fix that in proofs?” one technician—I’d lost track of who did what by now—asked. “Or should we get makeup to . . .”
“She looks familiar.” I squinted into the darkness, ignoring the chatter around me as I tried to make out the photographer’s features.
Adonis touched my chin, drawing my gaze back to him before the photographer could pounce on my slip-up. When he was moved to a position that put his back to the camera, he solved the mystery for me. “That’s Jane. You probably saw me talking to her yesterday.”
My mind flashed back to the plain woman he’d been speaking with at orientation. “Oh. I’d wondered what she was doing there.” I smiled to myself, feeling foolish for not considering that everyone at orientation wouldn’t necessarily be a model “Makes total sense to have her behind the camera.”
Adonis struggled to maintain a “serious” expression as he pulled me to him. His hand skimmed my side as he lifted my camisole a tiny bit, as instructed. My breath caught. All I could think about were his lips burning away the rain and cold last night. The photographer’s voice pierced the buzzing in my ears, and I followed her instructions without thought, putting a hand to Adonis’s chest, and looking up at him. His heart pounded against my palm as he swallowed hard and tucked my hair behind my ear. His gentle fingers traced my jawline to my chin, lifting my face to his, kissing-close.
“Okay,” Jane called after a moment. “Let’s reset.”
People poured out of the woodwork, moving around us to adjust the equipment. As they rearranged white boards and tall stands with umbrellas attached to them, the ambiance in the room shifted. I’d never thought of light as something with texture before, but as the shadows in the room shifted from soft to hard, I wondered if anything was safe from the manipulations of gods and men.
“It makes sense for her to be behind the camera?” Adonis demanded as soon as it was safe to talk. “What do you mean by that?”
I blinked, confused. “She’s plain, is all.”
“That woman,” he inclined his head in the photographer’s direction, “speaks three languages, gives half her paycheck to The Humane Society, and would skin someone alive if they messed with one of her models. She is the person I’d call if I ever needed to bury a body, and she’s so frickin’ smart, she could probably get away with it. And in one sentence, you’ve reduced her to nothing but her features.”
“What else am I supposed to go on? I’ve seen her in a crowd, twice. It’s not as if I knew her life story.” She hadn’t even introduced herself. “And for the record, I could literally compel a corpse to dig their own grave, shield the location, and charm whoever dared investigate you into thinking that they’re a bunny rabbit. If you need to bury a body, call me.”
“Oh my gods.” Adonis threw up his hands in frustration. “Could you be more conceited?”
“Okay, ready,” Jane called, cutting Adonis off as she strode over and situated Adonis and me in another half-embrace. I followed her instructions, putting a hand to Adonis’s chest, and looking up at him.
“Why is that a bad thing?” I whispered as Jane walked back to her camera. “I honestly don’t get how anyone manages to function in a society with such a complex and contradictory social code. You claim to value honesty, yet you thrive on lies. Calling a plain person plain is somehow an insult instead of a statement of fact, meanwhile—”
“That’s not—”
“—the only acceptable form of validation is from other people giving you compliments. But then, you have to deny them,” I said. That didn’t seem right. “I’m not from your social structure, remember? Those rules don’t apply to me. If you keep expecting me to act like I’m human, you’re going to be disappointed. I can’t lie. Not even in kindness.”
Adonis rolled his eyes, but refrained from commenting while Jane lined up the next few shots. When Jane asked me to twine my arms around his neck, he hissed in my ear, his breath stirring my hair, “You say that as if you’re so far above us. Like you’re beyond caring about looks at all, but I’ve never seen you walk past a reflective surface without checking yourself out. I have seen that self-satisfied look on your face when you realize you’re the first thing everyone notices in the room. Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it. I don’t know why you’re so hung up on impressing people you so obviously think are beneath you, but—”
He broke off when two women wielding powder brushes came over and dabbed at our foreheads.
“You really have a low opinion of me, don’t you?” I said once they’d moved away. Why did that keep surprising me? He’d flat-out told me he hated gods and implied I’d sleep with someone for power. His opinion of me might slip lower if I bathed in the blood of children every night, but it wouldn’t have very far to fall. “I look amazing. Owning that, being proud of that, is not some kind of flaw I need to overcome.”
“No,” he agreed. “But acting like you’re somehow superior—”
“I am superior.” How did he not get this?
“That doesn’t mean you have to act like it.”
Persephone kept saying the exact same thing and it drove me nuts. “But why?” I couldn’t keep the frustration out of my voice. “Why do you give people the power to define you like that? Why do I have to pretend to be less, just to make someone else more comfortable with—?”
Jane cleared her throat. “Looking a little tense, guys. Try to relax, please.”
I fumed in silence as one of her assistants rearranged us in an awkward position where I had one hand on my right hip and the other in Adonis’s left pocket. His pose echoed mine and I could feel the press of his fingers separated from my skin by only a thin bit of fabric. I forced a smile to my face that I didn’t feel, and the second I was posed with my face away from the camera, I resumed speaking. “You saw Zeus toward the end. Did you happen to notice you were the same height?”
Adonis spoke without moving his lips. “So?”
“Mmm . . . same build, too.” I ran a hand up Adonis’s arm, squeezing when I reached the muscle per Jane’s instructions. “So tell me, do you honestly think it’s a
coincidence that you and I—How did Narcissus put it?” My voice hardened. “Fit together like a frickin’ puzzle.’”
“Zeus assembled me. Piece”—I walked my fingers up his chest—“by piece. He wanted me to fit to him like this.” I pressed myself against Adonis. “I’m this coloring because he had a thing for redheads. I don’t have a solitary feature he didn’t put there for his own personal enjoyment. Every aspect of my being, every piece of me—” I broke off, diffusing the heat in my voice. “Sorry,” I called to Jane, voice bright. “Like this?” I leaned against Adonis, pulling him into an embrace that shielded me from the bright lights.
“Let’s get you to move behind him,” Jane suggested. “Adonis, can you kneel down, and . . You got it.” The photographer flashed us a thumbs-up. “Tilt your head a little—There ya go, look that way, don’t smile. Adonis, put your hands over hers and look here . . . Perfect!”
“What you said earlier,” I whispered in Adonis’s ear. “About feeling programmed? You don’t know the half of it. And I’ll be damned if I ever give anyone that kind of power over me again.”
Adonis couldn’t reply, facing the camera like he was, but I saw his jaw twitch. After a moment went by without us arguing, the heat fueling my indignation cooled, leaving hollowness in my chest that ached around the edges with dual parts shame and anger. I hated the way he made me feel as if I’d done something wrong. I was getting tired of defending myself.
“Hmm.” Jane evaluated us for a moment. “Uh, new girl? That expression isn’t working for me. Think lovely thoughts, and gaze off into the distance.” She waved her hands. “Thataway.”
Lovely thoughts? Where were we, Neverland? Still, I pasted a smile on my face and gazed off into the distance.
“Okay, a little more solemn.”
The fashion editor darted into the light to reposition me, draping me around Adonis like an accessory, and requesting I hold the uncomfortable position. We couldn’t talk with both of us facing the camera like this, so I was left with nothing to focus on but the thoughts I’d stirred up and the chaos of the shoot.
“Move that knee,” an assistant told Adonis, making me jump.
I hated knowing that Zeus designed me. Sometimes, looking in the mirror and seeing his handiwork made me sick. I could change absolutely every aspect of the way I looked. Become someone else. But was that better?
“Get her lips more dewy.”
A woman dabbed something cold and sticky on my lips, tilting my chin up to examine them in the light. “Okay.”
I’d become some scared girl, hiding behind a glamour, living in fear of my true reflection. But I wasn’t going to give Zeus that much power over me. Maybe he had designed me, but I was more than just his plaything.
“Adjust that light—There ya go.”
Another makeup woman darted into the light and jabbed at me with a stiff brush.
More than some poseable doll.
The fashion editor ducked into the shot to poke and prod me into position when I didn’t respond fast enough.
More than a puppet.
My chest constricted as a set of hands darted into the periphery of light, tugging at my shirt when a pose twisted the fabric the wrong way.
I was a goddess. Strong, and beautiful, and powerful, and no one could—
When I felt hands on my hips, subtly guiding me to the correct pose, I lost it. “Would you stop that?” I jerked away from the hands as I struggled to draw in a deep breath.
“Aphrodite—” Adonis stopped when he got a good look at my face. Whatever he saw there gave him pause. “Okay, let’s take a break. Can you guys give us a minute?”
The woman with the earpiece rolled her eyes. “We don’t have—”
“That actually wasn’t a question.” Adonis looked her full in the eyes. “We’re taking a minute. Give us some space.”
Charm. He must be using charm, but for some reason, I couldn’t sense it. In fact . . . I couldn’t sense any power coming from him at all. I could sense his baseline last night, but now I wasn’t getting anything.
Sensing a power baseline was kind of like gauging someone’s mood. There are all these visual cues when someone’s angry; set shoulders, clenched jaw, narrowed eyes, whatever. But instead of individually noticing all the tells, the brain interprets a feeling of anger. The brain’s funny like that sometimes. But sensing someone using their powers is about as obvious as hearing an angry person screaming.
So why hadn’t I picked up anything? And why the hell couldn’t I breathe? What was wrong with me? My heart raced and my head felt light. The shadows in the room felt weighted, as if they were pressing in around me, squeezing.
“This was a stupid idea.” I gasped struggling to draw in a breath to calm my racing heart. “I’ll watch the shoot from over there.” I started to move away, but Adonis caught my arm, his grip more suggestion than actual pressure.
“This is my job, Aphrodite, I can’t just—” He broke off, shaking his head. “Look, I know these shoots are overwhelming at first. I get it. But I promise, I can get you through today and then you can tell Narcissus you’re not signing on. But if you don’t finish today . . .”
I’d be screwing him over. “What do I do?”
Relief flooded Adonis’s eyes. “You’re paying way too much attention to everything around you. You’re supposed to be looking at me, right? So focus on me. Can you do that?”
I drew in a long breath, forcing myself to calm down. “Yeah.”
“Okay.” He looked over my head for an instant, breaking the charm he held over the others. “I can carry her. Keep going.” He reached for my hands. When I didn’t jerk away or object, he tugged me toward him, motioning for the photographer to continue. “May I?”
I swallowed hard and nodded. Adonis moved my arms to his waist then cupped my face in his hands. “See, you’ve got this.”
Chapter XII
“RIGHT THIS WAY, please.” A man dressed in a crisp suit led us into the dining hall. The lights in the massive room reflected back from the windows with a dazzling glare.
“Are you seriously still trying to go through with this?” Adonis asked under his breath as the server ushered us to the U-shaped second floor.
We’d barely had enough time to rush back to the suite and get ready after the shoot, much less come up with a game plan for this meeting. “I didn’t know there were so many people involved in a photo shoot. If I charm them all into ignoring I’m there, I’ll leave a noticeable power signature for sure. I don’t want to make it obvious there’s someone on board with enough charm to remember if you guys go missing.” My thoughts flickered back to the envelope full of schedules I’d stashed back in our room. Schedules I’d promised to give to Poseidon next time I saw him. My stomach twisted with the reminder I’d have to face the sea god again. “I think I’m going to have to stick with the modeling thing.”
“But you hated it,” Adonis protested, misinterpreting the fear on my face. “And you freaked out back there.”
I thought back to my sudden inability to breathe. The way my heart raced, thudding uncomfortably against my constricted chest. “Yeah . . . I don’t know what that was.”
“A panic attack?” Adonis suggested.
I shook my head. “Gods don’t get panic attacks.” I thought back to my nightmares. “I mean, we can panic, and there can be physical side-effects, but nothing like that.” I shuddered at the memory. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out. But for now, there are only four more shoots, right?” The next one would happen tomorrow morning on the cruise line’s private island. “Now that I know what to expect”—and I knew better than to let them pose me—“I think I can handle it.”
“Yeah, well, I hope you’re right.” Adonis waved to Narcissus as we approached the table. “It’s my career if you’re wrong.”
Ye
t, if I’d decided to turn down the modeling gigs, he’d get annoyed that I’d risk the whole plan by confirming I was strong enough to charm a room full of people. I hated Adonis’s ability to make me question myself. No matter what I decided, he’d interpret my choice as selfish. He made me feel as if there was something wrong with me, and a part of me bought his vision. But then he turned around and acted as if he cared, that I mattered, and he’d do something so nice, I got whiplash.
Narcissus stood until I was seated. “I take it you’ve had time to go over the contract?”
I nodded. “We had a few concerns.”
Narcissus motioned to his assistant, what was her name? E? What was “E” short for, anyway? She drew out a tablet, prepared to make notes, and gave us an expectant look.
“Have you had a chance to look over the menu?” a server in a white shirt with a black bow tie asked as he passed by the table.
“We have,” Narcissus confirmed. “But did you two need more time?”
Adonis glanced at the menu. “I know what I want, thanks.”
“And I’ll figure it out before you get to me,” I promised.
Once our orders were taken and our glasses filled, I let Adonis take the lead. This was his career, after all. Point by point, Adonis hammered through the legalese until he felt satisfied with the contract. While they talked, I studied the dining room. There were no traces of power coming from any of the passengers. Nor were there any shields or glamours, and no one else here looked the least bit divine.
Below us, not quite at the center of the room, but drawing my eye nonetheless, were Tantalus and Elise. They were sitting with Jane and two other women I recognized from the shoot. From this vantage point, I could see if anyone took an unusual interest in their table.
Heads turned toward the demigods on occasion, but that was to be expected. Demigods stood out. Every now and then, their bouts of laughter would rise over the din of conversation. They all seemed to be teasing each other, but based on their smiles, none of them minded.