A Touch of Ruin (Hades x Persephone #2)(10)

“Good morning, Persephone!” she said in a sing-song voice. “I hope getting here wasn’t too difficult for you.”

“No, not difficult at all,” she managed to keep her voice even. That was probably the second worst lie she had ever told, next to the one where she promised her mother she’d stay away from Hades. “Thank you, Helen.”

“You have already received several calls this morning. If they were about a story I thought you’d be interested in, I transferred them to voicemail, but if they called to interview you, I took a message. She held up a ridiculous stack of colorful sticky notes. “Do you want any of these?”

Persephone stared at the stack of notes. “No, thank you, Helen. You really are the best.”

She grinned.

Just as Persephone started toward her desk, Helen called to her, “Oh, and before you go, Demetri has asked to see you.”

Dread grew heavy and hard in her stomach, as if someone had dropped a stone straight down her throat. She swallowed, managing to smile at the girl.

“Thank you, Helen.”

Persephone crossed the workroom floor, flanked by perfectly lined desks, stowed her things and grabbed a cup of coffee before approaching Demetri’s office. She stood in the doorway, not ready to call attention to herself. Her boss sat behind his desk looking at his tablet. Demetri was a handsome, middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a perpetual five o’clock shadow. He liked colorful clothing and patterned neckties. Today, he wore a bright red shirt and a blue bowtie with white polka dots.

A stack of newspapers lay on the desk in front of him bearing headlines like: IS LORD HADES IN RELATIONSHIP WITH A MORTAL?

JOURNALIST CAUGHT KISSING GOD OF THE DEAD.

MORTAL WHO SLANDERED KING OF THE UNDERWORLD IN LOVE?

Demetri must have felt her staring because he finally looked up from his tablet, the article he was reading reflected off his black-framed glasses. She noted the title. It was another piece about her.

“Persephone. Please, come in. Close the door.”

That stone in her stomach was suddenly heavier. Shutting herself in Demetri’s office was like walking right back into her mother’s greenhouse—anxiety built, and she felt fear at the thought of being punished. Her skin grew hot and uncomfortable, her throat constricted, her tongue thickened...she was going to suffocate.

This is it. She thought. He is going to fire me.

She found herself frustrated that he was drawing it out. Why invite her to sit? Act like it had to be a conversation?

She took a deep breath and sat on the edge of her chair.

“What did you do?” she asked, glancing at the pile of newspapers. “Pick one up on every block?”

“Couldn’t help it,” he said, smirking. “The story was fascinating.”

Persephone glared.

“Did you need something?” she asked finally, hoping to change the subject—hoping that the reason he called her into his office had nothing to do with this morning’s headlines.

“Persephone,” Demetri said, and she cringed at the gentle tone his voice had taken. Whatever was coming, it wasn’t good. “You have a lot of potential and you have proven you’re willing to fight for the truth, which I appreciate.”

He paused and her body stayed tense, preparing for the blow he was about to deliver.

“But,” she said, guessing the direction of this conversation.

Demetri looked even more sympathetic.

“You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to,” he said.

She blinked, brows furrowing. “Ask what?”

“For an exclusive. On your relationship with Hades.”

The dread crawled up her stomach, and spread, sizzling in her chest and lungs and she felt the heat abruptly leave her face.

“Why do you have to ask?” Her voice was tight, and she tried to stay calm, but her hands were already shaking and squeezing her coffee cup.

“Per—”

“You said you wouldn’t ask if you didn't have to,” she stopped him. She was tired of him saying her name. Tired of how long it was taking him to get to the point. “So why are you asking?”

“It came from the top,” he answered. “It was very clear that you either offer us your story or you don’t have a job here anymore.”

“The top?” she echoed, and paused for a moment, searching for a name. After a moment, it came to her. “Kal Stavros?”

Kal Stavros was a mortal. He was the CEO of Epik Communications—which owned New Athens News. Persephone didn’t know much about him except that he was a tabloid favorite. Mostly, because he was beautiful—his name literally meant crowned the most beautiful.

“Why would the CEO request an exclusive?”

“It’s not every day the girlfriend of the God of the Dead works for you,” Demetri said. “Everything you touch will turn to gold.”

“Then let me write something else,” she said. “I have a voicemail and an inbox full of leads.”

It was true. The messages had started pouring in the moment she published her first article on Hades. She’d slowly been sorting through them, organizing them into folders based on the god they criticized. She could write about any Olympian, even her mother.

“You can write something else,” Demetri said. “But I’m afraid we’ll still need that exclusive.”