Page 3 of The Perfect Matchmaking (Cupids & Goddesses #2)

WHERE A TRAP IS LAID (IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE)

T wo thousand loud, unruly cupids? Check.

Nine apathetic muses? Check.

Twelve accursed family members, er, Olympian deities? Check.

Among those, one ex-husband, his brother—also a former lover—a manipulative ex-mother-in-law, and a crazy ruler of the world with despotic yet sexualized proclivities. Oh, and Erato. Perpetually horny.

As Aphrodite went through her mental list, she realized one person was still unaccounted for.

Her Queen of the Perfect Match. She checked her watch as she left the bustling MGM Convention Center to head for her meeting.

Still no sight of Sabine Goddard. Neither could she see her wife, the lovely, adorable and decidedly shrewd—despite certain claims to the title of Cinnamon Roll Extraordinaire—Abby Angellini.

Or whatever cutesy, hyphenated names those two were going by these days.

It should be sweet.

Aphrodite, as the Goddess of Love, should see it that way and toast their saccharine marriage with whatever alcoholic beverage she happened to be holding at that time. Instead, she grimaced and got disgusted with herself for feeling disgusted at the cupids who were constantly sucking face nowadays.

She sighed as she reached the reserved table at the most trendy Vegas restaurant.

She exhaled and reveled in being the first one there.

At least, Mizumi, with its Michelin star, and the out-of-this-world Japanese cuisine, were worth partaking in a meal with a bunch of spoiled prima donnas.

Still, as her heart rate spiked and her vision grayed in what was certainly an impending panic attack, she thought that perhaps she was more unsettled than she had allowed herself to acknowledge.

No, tonight’s upcoming dinner with Zeus and his posse was getting to her, that was all.

Breathe. In and out. In and out.

“It’s not going to be that bad, Dite.”

She should’ve scented him before she even heard him since he approached her in his customary cloud of perfume, but her distraction and self-pity were starting to take their toll. Annoying as Apollo was, his powers of foresight were sadly unmatched, so him reading her was not a surprise.

“If prior experience is anything to go by, are you really calling getting interrogated for two hours instead of enjoying amazing food ‘not that bad’?”

“You’ve gotten too spoiled in Paris. All this ‘do as I please’ if you will, is not necessarily good for you. The optics?—”

She had no time for his pussyfooting around.

“Optics be damned! It’s my will. And it’s my domain, Apollo. Well, if by ‘spoiled’ you mean that I’ve gotten used to other gods minding their own business and staying out of mine, since they have no Earthly idea what the hell they’re doing when it comes to love, then, yes, I’ve gotten spoiled.”

“I meant the dinner company, Dite, but sure, whatever you say. I’m determined to enjoy the food, the entourage, not to mention placating Zeus helps keep the peace.

And moreover, you really can’t expect to start doing your own thing, remain unaccountable to everyone for so long, and not invite some Olympian scrutiny. ”

He performed a carefully choreographed toss of his flowing blonde mane.

Half the people sitting at nearby tables swooned.

She’d have laughed at the pretentiousness of it all, but she had more pressing issues.

She remembered Erato’s advice to question him about what was really going on.

Plus something in his tone, in the way he was wording his sentences, gave her the creeps.

Hadn’t he mentioned ‘optics’ a few minutes ago?

“Is this why he’s here? Why you’re all here? The Olympian scrutiny of my wayward, independent ways? And don’t tell me you don’t know. Even if nobody told you, you’d have figured it out.”

“I mean, I don’t need to employ my divine powers of deductive reasoning, Dite, to know that nothing happens among this crowd that isn’t caused by the old horn-dog getting spun up about something.

Plus the whole business with Athena… Here he comes, though, so we shall see.

If I were you, I’d pretend to enjoy the hell out of myself and probably keep my mouth shut.

Oh, and if possible, make yourself invisible? ”

The whole business with Athena?

She decidedly did not remember what Apollo was talking about, until it hit her. Athena and her rebellion. Her veritable emancipation. The abandonment of her divine duties…

Aphrodite had scarcely had any time to take in his advice, as ten figures descended on their table in a cavalcade of chaos.

The spectacle was the perfect example of why she’d moved to Paris and away from this Olympian mess.

Because it was messy, and loud, and obnoxious, and so damn fake, she could barely stand these gods.

Hera still acted like the queen of everything, despite not being Zeus’s wife for the last couple of centuries.

Hephaestus still pretended to be the injured party every time he looked at her.

And he still hung on Hera’s every word, even though he wasn’t her favorite son and was generally ignored by his mother in favor of Ares, who swaggered like his balls were so big they prevented him from walking normally.

They weren’t. She had firsthand knowledge.

Which she regretted deeply. For many reasons.

Artemis and Hermes were whispering between themselves, probably sharing the latest gossip, and Aphrodite wished she was seated closer to them. At least she’d enjoy some conversation. Apollo, for all his clairvoyance, was still the same self-involved prick.

The rest of the crowd was a pretentious, extravagant blur. Including Zeus, who was busy flirting with the mortals.

Yeah, so what else was new?

Except as most of the gods were taking their seats with varied aplomb and demands for attention from the dining public surrounding them, the chair next to her was quietly pulled back by a slim, long-fingered hand, attached to a tall lanky body, smelling faintly of chalk and something Aphrodite couldn’t immediately identify.

But it was so familiar and so cozy, it suddenly made her feel less exposed in her off-the-shoulder Armani gown, being drooled over by the entire restaurant and most of her table companions.

That scent propped her up, gave her the illusion of being supported, and comforted.

So did the tweed jacket with the corduroy elbow patches.

She found herself craning her neck to get a better look at the person slowly lowering themselves next to her, and did a double take when an oh-so-familiar face turned itself in her direction with a shy crooked smile playing on sensuous lips.

Sensuous? Did she really just think that?

But before the aforementioned sensuous mouth—yes, decidedly so with that sculpted upper lip bow—could formulate a greeting, they were predictably interrupted.

“Ah, Athena! Daughter! So nice of you to join us! What with you abandoning your official duties, I had no idea whether I should expect you to accept an invitation from your father anymore. Better late than never, I always say!”

Zeus’s booming voice managed to sound even more patronizing than usual.

And of course, he was loud enough to immediately overwhelm every ear within a one-mile radius.

God of Fucking Thunder indeed. At least, to everyone’s pleasure, Poseidon’s face soured.

Upstaged yet again. Aphrodite wanted to sigh.

Zeus hadn’t addressed anyone but Athena, and she was already sick of his pompous ass.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only one.

“I’m not late, Father. And your orders were more than a mere invitation.

As for abandoning my duties, I haven’t. Sciences and discoveries have burgeoned since I managed to devote my full attention to them and not divide myself between war and wisdom.

Ares can handle the former. The latter is clearly out of his league.

Plus, I didn’t want to interrupt your socializing with the redhead who seemed taken with you. ”

The cultured, thoroughly pacifying tones of the low voice beside her betrayed nothing, but Apollo covered his laughter with a cough, and Aphrodite had to bite her lip to suppress a smile.

Now she recalled the kerfuffle with Athena somewhat better.

Brave, foolhardy Athena, who had one day said ‘screw you all, I’m done with war and I choose to dedicate myself to the sciences’.

Very brave indeed. Aphrodite didn’t know exactly how things had come about, but the fallout had been massive.

For a while, Athena was exiled and, if she wasn’t mistaken, pretty much cut off from the family.

Maybe that was why—while all the other Olympians languished in a rather comfortable, if not to say opulent and idle lifestyle for most of their days—Athena actually worked for a living.

Some professorial job in some god-awful New England place with lots of bears and snow and dreadful winter clothing.

But one thing Aphrodite did remember well: Athena had quite a mouth on her.

A very smart and—as she had already stated—sensuous one, too.

And you should never turn your back on her, because she could and would neutralize you with ease and poise.

Just as she had a minute ago. Three hits in a sentence.

It was obvious Zeus was properly placated by the remark on his pulling powers, Ares was left completely flabbergasted, no doubt knowing he’d been insulted somehow, but unable to recover enough to summon a clever retort, and Aphrodite knew Hera would be totally incensed by the reminder about Zeus’s philandering ways.