Filthy Gods (American Gods 0.5)(12)

“I’m a Senator for California.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, watching me.

I nodded, uncomfortable under his gaze. He was looking at me like he was undressing me.

He bent his head lower as if trying to get a better look at my face. “How old are you?”

“Twenty,” I said, trying to sound pleasant, but professional. If he found me rude, he could complain to Mrs. Hawthorne.

“And you’re in school?”

I held my head high. “Yale. Going into my fourth year for pre law.”

He whistled at that and looked down at me. “I went to Yale. Years ago, but I don’t recall such beautiful women like you there.”

I held back from cringing at his words. He had a wife and two kids. Why was he acting this way? Jackass.

As we walked through the manor, past a few men returning from golfing, I felt the back of my neck grow hot. When we made it to the bar, I smiled at him and turned, only for his hand to snake around my wrist.

I stared at his hand, large palm engulfing me.

“Don’t be in such a rush, darling.” He scoffed and searched through his suit jacket pocket. Slowly, he pulled out a wad of bills, plucking fifties out as if to impress me. “Here. For your precious time.” He extended his hand, a fifty in his palm.

“Not needed, sir. It was a pleasure talking to you,” I said, pressing a faint smile on my mouth and stepping back.

“Oh c’mon,” he whined, stepping closer. “Just fifteen minutes of your time.”

I shook my head and turned away, walking fast. I didn’t want him to chase me.

I wiped my hands on my skirt, feeling dirty. The way he looked at me was like he wanted to devour me. I shivered.

After that, the rest of the day went by quickly and I successfully avoided Nathaniel.

As I made my way back to the cottages, Peter, one of the waiters, stopped me. “We need extra help tonight in the dining hall. Can you fill in?”

I rubbed my hands across my skirt and glanced back at the white brick cottages shadowed by willow trees. My only escape. My only oasis here.

I sighed. “Sure.”

Just like the girls, the male staff wore white polo shirts and shorts, but at dinner time, a white suit jacket and white pants. I was told it was to keep the classic look to the country club and to make everyone perform as not to ruin their clothes.

I served wine to all the guests seated, smiling politely, making sure not to interrupt their conversations.

And then my stomach dropped.

Before me, in the bay window, sat Nathaniel, wearing a dark suit jacket, so dark against his tanned olive skin.

His eyes caught mine and I watched as his hand on the table curled into a fist.

Just like that, his eyes set me on fire and made my legs tremble, my core throbbing and aching for him to fill me again.

But he wasn’t alone.





A blonde wasp sat across from him, reaching her hand out to cover his clenched one. I felt numb as I swallowed my pride and moved forward, the wine bottle shaking in my grip.

We hadn’t said anything about being exclusive, I reminded myself.

With the doors to the many balconies left opened, the summer night breeze blew through but did nothing to calm me. If anything, it rattled my temper further.

I smiled at her, but the girl was too focused on Nathaniel sitting across from her to register my presence.

Nathaniel’s calculating gaze took me in and I knew, by the same way he looked at me before a debate, he was trying to understand me before I even understood myself.

I wanted to pour the red wine down his perfect white suit and watch his perfect composure break.

I shook myself out of it. This wasn’t anything. Nothing was between us, but anger and sex. He was allowed to date other girls. He didn’t belong to me and I definitely didn’t belong to him.

I stood at the edge of the table and politely smiled his way.

Nathaniel simply stared back, two fingers under his mouth.

“Good evening. Would you like some white or red wine tonight?” I asked, keeping my voice cool and composed.

Sweat ran down my spine.

“Red wine,” the Wasp said, flashing her teeth at me as she patted her napkin down on her lap.

I nodded, pouring the red liquor into the crystal glass.

The Wasp turned her attention back to Nathaniel. “My family sends their hellos.” She grinned at him, her dimples appearing in the crease of her cheeks.

I could still feel his gaze on me, burning a hole into the side of my head.

Slowly, I turned to face him, straightening. For once, I was taller than him, towering over the man before me.

“And you, sir?” I choked on those words.

He lowered his eyes, dark lashes fanning over his olive cheeks. He scanned me, from head to toe, as a man would someone he knew intimately and the back of my neck grew hot. Because he had. He had kissed places on my body no one had ever even seen.

“Red, Ms. Monroe,” he said, my name sitting like heaven and hell on his full, arrogant lips.

My hands trembled.

“Do you know her, Nathan?” the woman asked, her eyes darting between us. Her fingers played with the edge of her crystal glass, manicured nails raking up and down.

His bright eyes swept over me again and returned to my face. He leaned back in his chair, appraising me and I couldn’t snap back at him.