Filthy Gods (American Gods 0.5)(3)

I cringed at that. I didn’t like being silenced, feeling like I wasn’t allowed a voice.

A corner of Nathaniel’s mouth quirked. “As your boss, I doubt that’ll be the last time, Juliette.”

My head snapped up, eyes wide.

He only smirked. “Finish cleaning my room and then you’re dismissed.”

I fisted my hands, biting the inside of my mouth as I watched him turn and leave the suite.

His room, he had said.

Of course, I groaned inwardly. Of course it had to be his room.

I couldn’t lose this job, even if it killed me to wait hand and foot on Nathaniel Radcliffe.





Each morning was the same. We rose at five am and got ready to meet inside the entrance, all dressed in our pristine work clothes. Ms. Edwards gave us a quick rundown on the new guests and if there were any significant events happening today.

As I looked down the line of beautiful young women, I remembered my professor telling me how each girl who worked here was handpicked. Most of these girls were admitted to Ivy League schools, too, and they knew the connections made at Hawthorne Country Club would further them into a powerful position.

My nails curled into my palms. I needed that; connections.

I towered over the group of girls and held my chin high. It had taken years for me to embrace my five-foot-eight height and now I used it to my advantage.

The days were long and uncomfortable in the tight white uniform, but none of the girls backed down. I soon realized after four days of being here that these women were just as determined, just as dedicated to their futures as I was.

And a rumor had spread that only one would be given a bonus and a reference from Mrs. Hawthorne herself.

Nathaniel’s mother.

I had researched her after my unsavory encounter with her son. She had kept her maiden name, focusing on rebuilding her family’s empire and updating it to a more vibrant, friendly environment. But only for the rich and famous, of course.

I’d found news articles showcasing pictures of her shaking hands with the former president as he stayed here with his family for the last four summers. There were also many interviews in which she discussed her involvement with various charities. Some articles gossiped about how cold and obsessed she was with her own projects. A ruthless businesswoman, she had been named the most influential woman in the United States five years in a row.

My heart had clenched at that.

Her reference on my resume would make me stand out.

I needed to be the best. I needed to focus.

As I gathered used towels from the pool lounges, I saw two of the girls I worked with watching the beach longingly. The sun beat down on my back, sweat pooling on my brow. I edged closer, stuffing the wet towels into a bag. Grabbing a towel by the girls’ feet, I shoved the bag into the cart beside them.

“I heard the judge was going to reopen the case,” Mandy said.

“What case?” Danielle asked, arching a brow.

Mandy shot her a dirty look. “About the boys. You know?”

Danielle shook her head, redness painting her fair skin like a rash.

Mandy groaned. “You didn’t hear about the ‘American Gods’?” I froze and Mandy caught that, grinning widely. “See! Juliette has!”

I focused on reorganizing the cleaning supplies, annoyed we had stopped moving along. We still had ten bedrooms to clean before the afternoon was up.

“Okay. So you see those guys there?” Mandy pointed over at the beach and I couldn’t help but sneak a look.

Sure enough, the three men known as the American Gods were out on the sand. James and Gabe were tossing a football back and forth between them, their smiles too white, too perfect, their bodies tanned and sleek with sweat.

Arsen was lounging in a chair, tattooed body gleaming, a scowl pressed to his mouth as if the sun pissed him off. A tiny golden necklace hung loosely around his neck—a cross.

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat.

There was something untouchable, something holy and unholy about the boys. Sacred and sinful all at once. Bastards of Grace. Fame, wealth and power poured out of them. They were the things of legends and myths.

These three men, along with Nathaniel, were nothing short of Yale royalty, ruling the campus with their secret society club.

Rolling my eyes, I thought back to the stupid pamphlet that had been released just after last year’s winter semester. It named each member of their billionaire boy club and someone had ranked them based on their eligibility in three categories.

Wealth.

Power.

Attractiveness.

Gabe Easton had ranked 1st.

A magnetic, intoxicating personality. A deadly smile paired with looks blessed by the goddess of beauty and a sharp, intelligent mind made him a force to be reckoned with. Not to mention his future was set in stone. His family had raised two former presidents before him.

His own father would have been the third president in the Easton family had he not been assassinated during his campaign. It had been all over the news in every country. They’d made it sound like a king had died. Gabe had been only eleven then and I couldn’t imagine the kind of psychological damage it caused as he had witnessed it during his father’s speech.

Everyone knew in their bones that Gabe Easton would accomplish bigger things than most men. He’d get whatever he wanted and go to whatever length to get it. He’d be elected president of America one day. I knew that by the way he held himself, the way his gaze, sharp and deadly, scanned the crowd of students in our classes. There was determination and anger and a pinch of darkness inside of him.