Page 25 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows (Runaway Prince Hotel #5)

Chapter Eighteen

DEVIL’S BACKBONE

Théo

T he Mediterranean sun blazes through the sleek windows of the high-end restaurant as I push open the door to the private back room. I sigh, about to step in.

This place is worlds apart from the sterile luxury of the Monaco penthouse where Alexis sealed the deal with his boss.

My mood? Also worlds apart.

And my sidekick? From a realm of his own—but nowhere in my contract did it say that I had to deliver the goods alone.

Thinking back on how adamant I’d been about working solo, I can’t help but laugh.

This crazy scheme? Without Zagreus, Prince of the Underworld, it wouldn’t have been born, let alone taken shape.

This opportunity wouldn’t have surfaced if I hadn’t met him, if I hadn’t robbed him, and if I hadn’t fallen for him—fierce and fast…

Far too fast, but some things just hit you.

I found my person, and he’s not human. Refusing to dwell on the implications of that, I bask in the heady feeling.

The tips of his fingers graze mine, sending a shiver through me. I hadn’t realized I needed it; what I’m about to do is so far outside of my comfort zone.

Too soon, Zagreus’s fingers leave mine, and I groan at the loss before I enter the room where my future will play out. No, not my future… our future, together, for as long as my favorite immortal Greek god will have me by his side.

“Promise me it’s your last rodeo, Théo,” my lover had repeated yet again, his eyes boring into mine while he caressed my jaw with this thumb after we made sweet love all day long.

Upon our arrival yesterday, we christened every room of our Monte Carlo-area hotel suite.

“Please stop breaking the law or your soul will be sent to a dark place. Then, it’ll be too late, and I can’t fathom losing you again. Redemption is key.”

“I hear you and won’t fail you. That’s a promise, because I can’t bear causing you grief.

” I then kissed him, pouring everything I felt for him into it.

I convinced myself that nothing compared to the thrill of my job.

That was before Zagreus came along and elicited emotions and sensations I had no clue existed.

Back then, I wasn’t… equipped, for lack of a better word, to welcome them.

Now, I see the world in a new light, and I have him to thank for it.

If Zagreus’s plan works, my life will take a drastic turn. Well, if it doesn’t, and I wind up dead for betraying Volkoff, that’ll be another drastic turn, a more sinister one where I won’t get to enjoy Zagreus’s skin against mine. And that would be a shame.

Angling his strong body towards mine, his lips ghost over my earlobe. “Let’s rock ‘n roll, babe.”

I shiver at his mere touch, subtle—almost human—breathing, and hoarse voice. The sound of it is so familiar that I overlook his unusual physique—and my own.

A while back, Zagreus confessed he didn’t have magical powers, but I misinterpreted his assertion.

When I was young, I was a die-hard fan of mythology—and here I am, forgetting even the basics!

My late dad, who first sparked my interest would be ashamed of me.

How could I have neglected that some Greek gods can alter their appearance?

The way he presents himself to the human world is his choice; seeing his true form would kill us.

Today, he resembles a young Owen Wilson, with his hair pulled back.

His talent came in handy when blurring the lines with this organization; our proximity enabled him to “glamor” me, and thereby I’m Dolus, without the props of my movie-style makeover.

Zagreus and I are such a stark contrast, and in far more than this occasion.

This pleases me to no end, and our complementary nature fuels the appeal.

We’re so in sync that I’ll have to be extra careful not to expose our relationship.

Funny how, thanks to this meeting, it dawned on me that Zagreus’s striking physique isn’t why I fell for him.

Who he is attracted me. His manners. His spirit.

His quirks. Such as the suit he’s wearing.

He aimed for something more formal for this meeting, opting for a three-piece suit, yet he chose a light blue windowpane jacket and a raspberry vest; I made him promise to wear the jacket as I plow him into the mattress tonight.

The subdued laughter and clinking glasses from the main dining area fail to penetrate the heavy oak door that separates us from the rest of the world. Inside, the atmosphere shifts—private, tense, and suffused with the scent of cigars and polished wood.

Addams family Lurch look-alike Alexis is standing on the other side of the door, immaculate as ever in a slim-cut navy suit. His poker face vanishes for a split second—replaced with a sudden, wild expression on his angular face—when he notices Zagreus’s broad frame behind me.

“It’s good to see you again, sir.”

I grin since he sounds genuine.

Without a word, he assesses Zagreus and shoots a measured stare at the package he’s clutching. No questions—Alexis has no choice but to trust me with a delivery so vital to his boss.

From across the room, I catch sight of Natasha closing in on Mr. Volkoff. Her beige dress is tailored to precision, her hair styled with unerring care, her nails lacquered red. She radiates poised elegance—more threatening than inviting.

Behind her boss—her lover?—Natasha’s gaze bears down on me, but my focus stays locked on Volkoff, who lifts his eyes from the papers to face me. His appraisal doesn’t faze me, nor does his dismissal of Zagreus.

Seated at the massive marble table, he remains quiet while Natasha’s manicured fingers dig into the back of the chair. Per usual, he embodies restrained menace. Distinctive allure. Sleek hairstyle. Piercing stare. His presence commands the room with unnerving control.

Two men flank him, watching my every move.

Don’t show emotion, Théo!

Without waiting for an invitation, I pull out a chair, and Zagreus follows suit, setting down the custom-made crate.

Volkoff’s eyes widen at the sight, then narrow as they land on the stranger to my right.

If I weren’t sitting next to him, I’d think he wandered in by mistake.

I would never fathom that he’s the painter behind the priceless artwork.

He doesn’t ask. I don’t tell. We just wait.

Volkoff flicks a quick look at Zagreus, then returns his gaze to me. “Ah, Dolus,” he says with smooth ease. My lover casts a sideways glance when Volkoff uses my alias; I was so preoccupied with our plan that I forgot to warn Zagreus. “Punctual, as always. I trust you came prepared.”

Unsure whether he means my delivery or my sidekick, I jut my chin towards him in a silent challenge, asking who his goons are. He explains that one is an art expert, here to verify the painting’s authenticity, while the other will handle the final steps to secure the deal.

So be it.

Squaring my shoulders, I hold back my surprise that Volkoff hasn’t mentioned the stranger beside me. “I’m nothing if not reliable,” I reply with a faint smirk, my usual mask of confidence sliding into place.

“Reliable enough to pull off something extraordinary.” Volkoff leans forward, intertwined fingers on the table.

So, that’s why nothing has been said about Zagreus—my feat silenced any doubts.

“You’ve caught my interest. I’d love to hear how you managed it.

Cameras, guards, all of it. How did you get it to vanish and go undetected until today’s delivery? ”

I shift back in my chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Trade secret, Volkoff. You understand how this works.” Even my lover doesn’t have that info yet.

He huffs out a short laugh. “Trade secret? Come on, Dolus. Humor me. I couldn’t resist asking.”

Zagreus jumps in, cheerful as if we’re discussing the weather.

“You want the details, sir? You hired Dolus for a reason—his reputation speaks volumes. He’s nimble as a cat, clever as a fox, and calm as a shadow.

” Zagreus snorts, unimpressed by Volkoff and his crew.

“Dolus runs on instinct—you ought to appreciate that.”

I suppress a smirk at Zagreus’s remark. Instinct drives me—after careful planning.

That he glamored anyone who could have blocked our path, ensuring the painting slips from the U.S.

to Monaco unseen? I’ll never admit it. My skill as a con artist is one thing; Z bending reality to clear obstacles is another.

Natasha’s steady gaze flickers to him, sizing him up like a puzzle she can’t quite solve. “And you are?”

“Oh, a fan of fine art,” Zagreus says, bowing his head with a playful toss of his curls. “Thrilled to be in such esteemed company, obviously.”

Her frown deepens. “Don’t you pride yourself on working solo, Dolus? Has something changed that Mr. Volkoff isn’t aware of?”

“Let the man speak, Natasha,” Volkoff cuts in—his voice icy and snappy—and unmoved by Zagreus’s humor.

“I’m Sonny.” I school my features to hide the grin tugging at my lips… Needless to say, no one here catches the reference, so he adds, “I’ll be Dolus’s sidekick today—handling the money and guaranteeing his security, if necessary.”

My heart swells at his immediate grasp of the situation. Ignoring Natasha’s jab about how I work shows good sense. Had he been less driven by the need to save my soul, and if I were less adamant about working alone, we would have made a great team.

Natasha sizes him up with a pointed glance, contempt palpable.

Good luck trying to figure him out, Natasha!

How could she grasp that beneath this outdated suit lives a preternatural being—his home steeped in the darkness of men?

A god who moves like one. Fights like one.

Fucks like one… but I’m relieved she remains blind to it, especially the fucking part.

I shove those thoughts to the side before snippets of our naked activities take the forefront. I clear my throat.