Page 4 of The Perfect Matchmaking (Cupids & Goddesses #2)

“Well, you’re clearly late, since you didn’t deign to dress for the occasion, Athena.

” As zingers went, Hera’s attempt was decidedly subpar, and everyone around the table knew it.

Athena just shrugged her tweed clad shoulders, before shucking off the blazer and revealing a black, sleeveless turtleneck and a set of arms…

Had it gotten warm in the room all of a sudden?

No university professor in the boonies of New England had any business having those kinds of biceps, triceps, delts…

Aphrodite completely missed everyone standing up to toast something Zeus was pontificating about.

She shook her head to clear the cobwebs of whatever it was that had suddenly discombobulated her, and no, the proximity of tanned, chiseled, uncovered arms was absolutely not the reason for her confusion.

A deep breath and Zeus’s speech made its way to her ears.

“… glad you lot are taking your family obligations seriously and showed up for this reunion. I think this is a tremendous occasion to take stock of who we are and what our responsibilities as both members of this family but also as Olympians are. Some of you have been relaxing, maybe slacking off a bit.”

His eyes met Aphrodite’s and she felt the same premonition she’d had in Paris.

Responsibility, duty, marriage…

Zeus winked at her and went on, “But don’t worry, you can always rely on family to lend a shoulder, to help you make the correct decision, to pick up that mantle of responsibility and return to the good old days.

To family!” He raised his champagne, and the rest of the gods followed suit.

Last thing she saw before she hid her face behind the rim of her flute was Ares’s smug, goading grin.

Her hands trembled, and she had to slowly set the glass down so as not to give herself and her anxiety away.

But she felt faint and could sense the blood draining from her face.

The room spun. Before she could decide what to do, the long-fingered hand she had admired just minutes ago covered her trembling one, and Athena spoke haltingly, distracting her from the viciousness of her ex’s gaze.

“Aphrodite… Ah… You’ve gone pale...” Any port in a storm, or whatever it was mortals said?

She could maintain a conversation with the devil if she had to, just to escape the uncomfortable sensation that she was being set up as the sacrificial lamb yet again.

Too bad Hades wasn’t here. Athena would have to do.

Except Athena more than did . Perhaps not seeing the Goddess of Wisdom for a couple of centuries and generally avoiding her for millennia had been a mistake.

Had she always been this oddly appealing, with those horn-rimmed glasses on the slim, high cheek-boned face?

Had her eyes always been this shade of amber?

And appealing ? How strange to see the raw sensuality on the marble-like, sculpted, classic features devoid of all make-up and pretense.

Aphrodite’s now-steady hand picked up her glass and she took a long swig, but before she could answer, Zeus coughed loudly and every stare turned his way.

“It has been brought to my attention…” He inclined his salt-and-pepper-haired head in the direction of Hera and Ares before continuing. “...that mortals are abandoning some of the long-standing doctrines of our social order. And love is one of those doctrines.”

Zeus narrowed his eyes and finally turned to her fully.

“The steady decline in perfect matches delivered by your cupids, Aphrodite, the lack of clear direction for that segment of our subjects because of your non-existent romantic involvement, has certainly affected the general perception of love in the world. This needs to be rectified. To this end, we have gathered here, my dear.”

Aphrodite felt the world tilt under her feet yet again, and only sheer will held her upright in her seat.

Her premonition had been correct. The ancient asshole and his meddlesome posse were up to their old tricks.

Since she saw no other reason for them to do this, she assumed that Zeus had some ulterior motive for his assholery.

And not that he needed help in being awful, but alternatively it could’ve been that Hera was either bored, or someone had reminded her of the many times Aphrodite had bested her at an assortment of things since the goddamn Trojan War.

“I see Ares has turned into a busybody. Like he’d recognize anything about the mortals and their behavioral trends?

” Athena murmured, following Aphrodite’s gaze.

She seemed to have come to the same conclusion as Aphrodite had, and the steady pressure of Athena’s hand on hers did not waver, grounding her. It was time to stop taking hits though.

But panic was still clawing at her throat, and she struggled to draw breath.

All her fears were gathered right in this room, staring back at her.

And she wasn’t certain she had what it took to stand up for herself.

At the end of the day, she so rarely did where Zeus was concerned.

But Athena’s hand on hers was warm, and while it did not magically give her the courage the Goddess of Wisdom herself possessed, it stilled her somewhat, allowing her to take that deeper breath.

After all, Athena would know, would understand like no other what Aphrodite was going through, as a woman and as a Goddess.

Being made to be a pawn was something they had both endured many times over.

“I welcome you all to my event to celebrate love. I don’t believe that love is dead. Neither do I believe my cupids are slacking.” She began tentatively. “My romantic involvements have never influenced them before?—“

Ares drained his glass and gave her an indulgent, patronizing smirk before interrupting. “If only you had any, maybe they’d encourage your disciples to be more diligent in their duties. Lead by example, I always say. Release a sex tape or something. I’m sure that would be inspirational.”

Artemis’s gagging sounds from across the table made Hermes and Apollo burst into laughter. The warm pressure on her skin became almost painful before Athena lessened her hold, perhaps realizing that her palpable anger was inadvertently hurting Aphrodite.

She bit her lip, but when she finally replied, her voice was steady. “I’ve led my cupids since time began, Ares. Your choice in partners is your own, however, so don’t blame my subjects for all the STDs you’ve had to seek medical attention for.”

“Zing! Dite 1, Macho War Dude 0!” Hermes high-fived Artemis.

“Children!” Zeus’ bellow made all of them flinch and settle down.

“I mean, you’re not wrong regarding Ares’s medical history, my dear, but he’s not wrong either when he says your prolonged singlehood isn’t setting the best example for mortals and cupids.

I completely understand that your marriage to Hephaestus left you traumatized?—“

“Hey!” Hephaestus’ indignant shout didn’t deter Zeus from continuing.

“—but it is time to get over all that, and to look around you and choose a mate.” He deliberately overextended the word ‘choose,’ and it resonated in her mind in all its fake glory.

No, there wouldn’t be a choice for her. As she lowered her gaze, he continued, “Surely, with your cupids excelling—as you insist they are—one of them will find you a perfect match.”

She lifted her head so quickly at his words that the hitherto rather steady room, whirled again.

She allowed herself to turn her palm in Athena’s hand and grip right back, taking solace where she could.

Meanwhile, Zeus simply winked at her once more, his smile sly, his eyes shrewd, no sign of the daft old man that he often played to get out of whatever he needed to.

No, this was the cunning god who had ruled the roost since the dawn of time.

He knew his family, and he had played her into a corner.

With silence reigning over the table, Zeus signaled for the food to finally be served before turning to her one last time. “I think a week, surrounded by the best and the brightest two thousand of your subjects, my dear, will be sufficient for you to find your perfect match?”

It had been a trap. Aphrodite chose not to dwell on her relived trauma, panic attacks, and anxiety-ridden visions of herself being bartered to the highest bidder again, all in some sort of accursed power play.

Instead, she decided to find someone to blame.

Well, that would be easy. Because whatever trap was being laid, she had walked into it with her eyes and brain fogged by the foolishness that had possessed her to drool over horn-rimmed glasses and chiseled arms. For shame.

Outplayed at her own game. Aphrodite threw back two fingers of Glenmorangie, placed the tumbler next to the three empty ones, and signaled for another.

“I heard the evenings before the Convention are particularly stressful, but I didn’t realize they were quite this bad.” Sabine Goddard gracefully sat down on the barstool close to Aphrodite and raised her hand for the bartender, who promptly filled a glass.

“Are you here to make jokes?” Aphrodite gulped down her next whiskey and turned to watch the audacious cupid take a gingerly sip of hers.

“Well, your summons were terse. One could say downright brusque. Considering how I was engaged at the time of receiving your message, I would even go as far as saying they were rude.”

“Oh please, I have no idea when a good time to summon you these days would be, since you’re always face down in your wife!”

Sabine’s expression could only be described as smug.

“I was about to do more than that and was cruelly interrupted?—”

“You’re just milking it now, Goddard.”

That earned her another self-satisfied look before Sabine sobered.

“I assume I’ve been summoned because you’ve been summoned?”

“So you know?” Aphrodite signaled for a new tumbler.

“Apollo let slip in strict confidence that it’s open season, with Zeus challenging the cupids to deliver a perfect match for you. So of course, it’s now known to any and all, as all Apollo’s strictest confidences are.”

“Fucking idiot.”

“Which one?”

“All of them. The whole damn family.” The whiskey was doing nothing to dissipate the fogginess over her heart and brain. If anything, everything was getting more and more blurry.

“Well, Maddison St. James is just about losing her mind over whom she’ll pair you with.”

“If I catch her and her quiver anywhere near me, I’ll pluck her wings myself.”

“Just keeping you abreast of current events...”

There was so much compassion in the cupid’s voice that Aphrodite almost blanched. She didn’t need anybody’s damn commiseration! She was still the Goddess of Love. And nobody pitied her.

“Mind your business, Sabine. And do your job. I’ve noticed you have not cast a single arrow in the two months since I ordered you to come out of retirement. How are you going to win the goddamn crown with no arrows shot?”

Sabine took a long swallow, polishing off her drink, and placed her glass on the bar, aligning it with the four empty ones Aphrodite had set in front of herself.

“That’s for me to worry about. You watch your six, boss. So many cupids, so many arrows, so few perfect matches.”