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He said it would take me right to him, but I landed in his main entry way, right in front of a sprawling mural. I’d seen it when Emre first gave me a tour. It covered the entire wall, a dramatic scene of each god, surrounded by their imagery, climbing up towards the clouds. TowardsOlympus. One side Greek, one side Roman, but with the same destination.

The second I could make out the details of each god, I turned on my heel and charged straight for Adrian’s office.

I’d been wide-eyed and hungry enough for pieces of Adrian’s real life that I’d cataloged exactly how to get to his office—the place it was clear he spent most of his time.

The sound of my heels clicked loudly on the hardwood floors as I turned down the final hallway. My speed kicked up a notch when I spotted his door.

It was from desperation, obviously, not from the distant nervous flutter in my stomach that some might call excitement.

His door opened seconds later, revealing Emre walking about with a stack of files. When his eyes landed on me, his telltale wry grin kicked up a notch. “Fancy seeing you here, Reyna.”

“Nice to see you, Emre,” I greeted in a rushed but kind tone, but never stopping as I strode past him, knocking Adrian’s door open further.

Adrian was standing, staring out the window to the view of Olympus and the mountains outside. He turned right as I entered, smiling like he’d somehow expected me.

“Reyna,” he said and I promptly ignored the shiver that licked down my spine. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“You are taking me on a date,” I growled, close to stomping in frustration. “Right.Now.”

?

“Are you ready to talk about it now?” Adrian asked as I angrily shoved another wine bottle into the crate I was making him hold.

He was a god. He was freakishly strong on his own, doubly so based on the muscles I’d felt hiding under his suit. He could handle it.

And he’d failed to put his normal suit jacket on when I’d dragged him out of his house, opting for a starched white shirt. Still buttoned at the wrist, though. Which was an optical illusion of its own because I couldn’t see even a hint of black ink under his shirt, but could see the tan of his skin and the outline of his torso.

“I’d rather not.” I pulled a red out of the wall to inspect the label. It was a good year. And the label was pretty. The wax was a gorgeous deep purple, too. That one was coming home with me. “But in the spirit of honesty,” I said, because that was a factor of this little arrangement, “My father reacted exactly how I expected him to. I just didn’t account for the fact that it would still make me mad.”

I was smoothing my thumb over the corner of the bottle’s label, so I didn’t notice Adrian stepping close until I looked up at to find him peering over me with a stern expression. “What did he say to you?”

“It wasn’t what he said. It wasn’t anything I haven’t heard before. That I have to consider my family’s reputation. That I’m not considering how it affects him and my mother. It just—”

I cut myself off quickly, realizing that I was just about to reveal something highly personal like it was a casual statement.

“It justwhat?” Adrian pressed, not an ounce of theintensity gone from his voice.

I nestled the wine bottle into the free spot in the second tier of the box. Then I answered him, just not with what I was originally going to say. “They make it seem like I’m very difficult to deal with.” And then softer, against my better judgment. “They always have.”

A pained groan rumbled from Adrian’s chest.

“You don’t have to carry all the wine at once,” I said, trying to relieve some of the weight.

Adrian looked down at me and held my stare in a brutal grip, making sure my attention was focused on him. “It’s not heavy, Reyna.”

Wait, so was that groan—

“Come on, honey,” Adrian prodded, jerking his chin toward the far end of the cellar. “You haven’t even seen the expensive bottles yet.”

I had half the mind to tell him he didn’t have to call mehoneyin private, but instead I just followed him to the end of the hallway. I narrowed my eyes on the shadow of his spine under his shirt, trying to look for his tattoos.

Might as well ask. “Why can’t I see your tattoos?”

Adrian’s shoulders stiffened. It was clear he regretted telling me.

Too bad, I thought. If he got to wreak havoc on my nervous system, I was going to attempt to scale his walls.

I poked him in the back, my finger digging into the rock hard muscle. “Tell me.”