Radiant Sin(14)

At least this time.

I fight down a shiver as we turn south in the lower city and follow the street until the buildings grow into warehouses. The car parks in front of one with a stylized sign reading Juliette’s. Recognition sparks. I’ve heard of this woman. She was run out of the upper city by the last Zeus because she got a bit too vocal about her suspicions that he killed his second wife, a suspicion most of Olympus shares, not that any case was ever opened. Since then, I’ve seen Juliette’s pieces on everyone from Psyche to Helen—now Ares—to Hades’s wife, Persephone.

Moving to the lower city hasn’t hurt Juliette’s career any. If anything, it’s added to her notoriety and increased her perceived value. There’s little the petty assholes in the upper city love more than novelty, and she’s selective in her clientele, which only has them frothing at the mouth all the more. If I show up at events wearing her clothing, it will certainly send a message.

It doesn’t matter. This is all temporary. I don’t care what those assholes think of me, so I’m not going to let their perceptions change my mind about this.

Psyche leads the way through the front door. Inside, the warehouse has been converted, the ceiling lowered and a shining curtain blocking off the space toward the back. There are quite a few racks of clothing arranged by some system I can’t quite identify at first glance. It’s not color and it’s not style. Maybe size? Though Juliette does custom pieces, and most designers who offer similar don’t go into expansive sizing. Certainly nothing that would fit me.

Then again, Psyche is a client, so maybe I’m wrong there. I must be if they brought me here to shop. The Dimitriou sisters don’t have a reputation for being needlessly cruel. More, Apollo signed off on this. He wouldn’t allow them to set me up.

Really, Cassandra? Putting your faith in him? He might be kind, but he’s still a member of the Thirteen. You, of all people, know what he’s capable of.

Maybe to others. Not to me.

Or maybe I’m a fool and about to have pie on my face.

I straighten my spine and follow Psyche and Hera to a remarkably charming sitting area arranged around a platform with a half circle of mirrors. A door off to the side must be the changing room.

Psyche looks around. “Juliette?”

“Here.” The rattling of a rack against the stained concrete floor precedes the tall Black woman who appears from between the racks. She used to be a model, and it shows in the way she carries herself, her simple but elegant black clothing, and the short, dark curls that leave her features on appealing display. I can’t begin to guess at her age, but she must at least be in her forties if she was around when the second Hera was. Possibly even fifties, since most designers don’t make names for themselves in their early twenties, especially when they were models first. Some models flicker and fade in the face of age, but time seems only to have polished this woman with something more than beauty. Strength.

She arranges the rack next to the changing room and motions long fingers at me. “Well, let me look at you.”

I hold my chin high as I approach and do a slow spin. When I face her again, approval lights her features. “I like your style. I can work with this.” She tilts her head to the side. “But first, what kind of vision do you have for this event?”

I hadn’t really thought about it, but the words come unbidden. “They’re going to talk about me regardless of what I do. I want to give them something to talk about.”

Juliette’s smile is knife-sharp. “Then you’ve come to the right place. Let’s get started.”





6


Apollo

I arrive at the Dryad fifteen minutes early. Whether Cassandra admits it or not, she’s got to be nervous about dinner for a number of reasons. She’ll be thrust into the very pool of people she’s spent twelve years avoiding. Not to mention this is where our fake relationship either launches…or crashes and burns.

We should have done a dry run somewhere private. Except that’s not logical either, because despite working together for five years, we’ve never been properly alone. Even though no one works in our immediate area—the closest is Hector with his office down the hall—we’re not really isolated. Cassandra has skipped every work party and after-hours event. Not that I blame her, but I can’t help looking for her during the ones I’m obligated to attend.

Now we’re supposed to be dating.

I can’t believe I even suggested this plan, let alone allowed Zeus to bully his way into ensuring it happened after her initial refusal. My reputation is more pristine that some of my peers, but this will be a black mark for certain. Or, rather, it will be confirmation that I’m no better than the others. Dating my assistant? How cliché. The gossip magazines will be salivating at even the slightest hint of scandal.

It’s still less a price than I’m asking Cassandra to pay.

“Apollo?”

I turn…and freeze.

Cassandra stands a few feet away. She wears her hair like normal, an undisturbed glossy fall of deep red. Her hair always catches my eye first. I’m still not sure if it’s natural or not. I suppose it doesn’t matter.

I try to keep my gaze on her face, on her artfully smoky eyes and dark-red lips. Truly, I do. But even as I tell myself to stop it, I can’t help sweeping my gaze over her.