Page 8 of Witches and Wine (The Mythical Mates of Arcane Cove #1)

Hermes was going to have a fucking field day with this one.

Not only was he right about Apollo, but I bit back my pride to do it for her .

I’m tempted to avoid him at all costs for the foreseeable future, but that often proved difficult with someone who can run at the speed of light.

I knew Apollo would jump at the chance to have a PR manager like Chelsea because she wasn’t human—a small fact she wasn’t aware of yet and more of the reason to hurry this shit along.

More and more hints about what she was kept piling up, and I knew I needed to tell her as soon as possible.

The sooner she knew, the sooner we could navigate it together.

At least, I hoped it would happen that way.

Chelsea never seemed the type to have freak-outs, but this was entirely new territory for her and me.

The way I figured, it’d go one of two ways.

One, she’d be shocked at first but soon settle into curiosity and excitement.

Two, she’d call me a liar or something, storm off, and move back to the human world ignoring any of her magical abilities.

I wished with every ounce of my unnatural power for the former possibility.

The way her eyes had glistened at the mention of him being a rock star gave me a peculiar tingling sensation in my chest. Her happiness breathed new life into me, and now all I could think about was continually making that expression appear on her.

To make her happy had become a new intoxicating, addictive drug.

Forty minutes had gone by, and she was still locked away in the bathroom.

A nagging itch at the base of my spine—the feral variety—made me jealous and protective when I thought about her going to all this trouble for my shit-eating half-brother and not me .

But that was the beast in me talking. The other, the more laid-back side of me, recognized the stolen glances and smiles she gave me when she thought I wasn’t looking.

Chelsea’s ferret Riley curled up in a ball in the crook of my arm and slept, the tiniest of snores I’d ever heard escaping his throat.

She called him a pet, but I had the gut feeling he was far more than that.

I busied myself snooping around the apartment while I waited, a dopey grin plastered on my face from how much every square inch broadcast her personality.

But other things, like the several unpacked boxes, surprised me.

She’d always seemed so well-kept, down to the way she folded her jacket and neatly placed it on the back of her chair before sitting.

She did, however, take the time to hang a singular item on the wall above her desk—a framed ABBA vinyl record. Specifically, a red heart-shaped one with the band posed together in a photo at the center.

“Do you like ABBA?” Chelsea asked, appearing at my side the way I’d met her the first time—a black designer jacket pressed to perfection and a matching skirt, black pumps that were undoubtedly red on the bottom, and an emerald button-up shirt.

Her hair fell in pristine waves over her shoulders, and my gaze dropped to her plump, glossed lips.

Smirking, I offered a still-slumbering Riley to her. “Doesn’t everyone? I don’t recognize this album, though.”

Considering the heart shape, I could’ve made an easy guess what song was on the label on the other side, but I wanted her to tell me.

After Chelsea secured Riley in his carpeted tower, she sauntered back to the framed album and, despite it not being crooked, adjusted the corners. She rested her hands on her hips and gave a wistful sigh. “It’s a special Valentine’s edition with Lay All Your Love on Me on it.”

I caught myself staring at her profile—the way her nose did an elaborate swoosh from the bridge to the tip. Fucking adorable. “Oh, yeah? That your favorite song of theirs?”

“You have no idea,” she breathed out. She snapped her attention to me, and I forced my gaze away from the exposed cleavage, given the three buttons undone. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah. He said he’d meet us at Prancing Pegasus . It’s a diner. That cool with you?” Slipping my phone from my back pocket, I checked my text message to ensure I had the time correct.

Chelsea shrugged and snatched her tan purse resting on the desk. “Sure. I can schmooze just about anywhere.” A confident smile graced her lips, and the sight of it made me want to wrap my hand around the back of her neck, pull her to me, and finish what we’d started at her doorway earlier.

“I bet you can. Think this is the first time I’ll get to witness the magic , so to speak, huh?” Walking to the door, I held it open for her.

“It isn’t magic, Dion, just experience,” she responded, her eyes sparking to life as she got into publicist mode.

Or it was magic. Time will tell.

We’d ordered coffee and slunk into a corner booth at the back of the diner.

I opted to sit on the same side as her because I sure as shit didn’t want Apollo that close to her.

Chelsea had her hands wrapped around her mug, her fingernails rhythmically tapping against it.

Her gaze was fixed on the door, and if she had an ounce of nervousness about her, she didn’t show it.

My phone buzzed, and I lifted the screen, peeking at the preview of a text message.

Dick Head

I’m here.

Sighing and resting my phone back down, I nudged Chelsea’s arm. “He’s here.”

“Wait, are you two on texting terms? Is this someone you know personally?” Chelsea’s eyes lit up, undoubtedly piecing it together bit by bit. She knew I was a Greek god with a huge family.

I’d have answered her, but the sound of the door chiming garnered her attention, and her hands flattened on the table. “Dion, is that Ace? As in Apollo of Apollo’s Suns?”

Fuck me.

“You know that band?” I flippantly asked.

Chelsea zipped her spine straight and quickly combed her fingers through her hair. “I’m a woman. Of course, I do.”

Of course, she did.

“Dion,” Apollo shouted from the entrance, waving at us with an emphatic raised hand. His ridiculously white teeth glinted when he smiled, grabbing the attention of the three other customers in the restaurant.

Rolling my eyes, I slouched in the seat, pretending for the moment that I didn’t know him.

Chelsea stood and tugged on the bottom of her jacket, immediately extending a hand once Apollo approached us. “Ace, it’s an honor to meet you and even more of an honor that you’re considering me as your publicist.”

The smile had yet to fade from Apollo’s tanned face.

He tossed some of that light blonde mop on his head that he called hair from his eyes before shaking her hand.

“Pleasure is all mine, Miss Stewart. Dion here had nothing but good things to say about you. And you can call me Apollo. We’re all family here, right?

” Apollo winked at me before taking a seat across from us.

I fought every compulsion not to kick his shin underneath the table.

“I—alright. I guess you are aware of my ties with your brothers and knowing their true selves, huh?” Chelsea sat and removed an e-tablet from her purse, quickly inputting the PIN code to unlock the screen.

Apollo drummed his fingers on the table before rubbing the sun pendant hanging to his chest between two fingers. He looked like he’d just come from a damn concert wearing only a metallic gold vest and fucking leather pants. “And your sister, right?”

Chelsea perked up. “That’s right.” She laughed and opened a screen with typed-up notes. “I’m sure you’re a very busy man, Apollo, so I don’t wish to keep you long, but I did have one question.”

“Only one?” Apollo stretched his arms over the booth’s back, and he kept glancing between me and Chelsea, still grinning.

“I figured a musician of your caliber would already have a publicist?”

Apollo nodded. “I did and unfortunately had to let him go last week.”

Chelsea’s fingers flew as she typed on the touch screen. “I’m sorry to hear that. May I ask why?”

“I guess I came to realize that someone like me—what I am—needed more of a—” Apollo waved his hands around, his bottom lip sticking out like he was thinking of the proper word. “—special touch.”

Heat prickled my neck, and I sat forward, pressing my elbows into the table so harshly I dented it.

“Special? Oh, you mean you prefer having a female publicist?”

Apollo chuckled, gave me a glance, and continued. “No, no. That doesn’t matter. What I guess I meant was I need someone more— magical .”

And now I did kick him under the table, a growl bubbling at the back of my throat.

Apollo grunted, smiled, and tapped his forehead where my horns normally protruded.

“Magical?” Chelsea laughed, bubbly and bright. “I guess you could compare what publicists do to performing miracles.”

Apollo rested his chin on his hand. “Precisely. And I’ve heard you’re one of the best miracle workers.”

“I’m flattered, thank you.” Chelsea re-positioned on her seat, crossing her legs beneath the table and sitting with perfect posture. “What all do you expect from a publicist?”

Apollo squinted his blue eyes at the ceiling before answering. “I suppose the biggest concern is keeping my identity hidden from the general public.”

There was no stopping the snort that blurted from my mouth. For someone so concerned about blowing his cover, one would think he wouldn’t display his powers during every fucking concert.

Chelsea glanced at me, giving me a pinched smile. Like a silently chastised canine, I sat up, prepared to zip my mouth for the duration of the conversation.

“That’s completely understandable, and your confidentiality would be my top priority, I assure you. What else?” Chelsea continued to type and paused, lifting her gleaming eyes back to Apollo.

“As long as you make me look good, Miss Stewart, I’m a pretty easy man to please.” Apollo winked at her, a spark flashing in his right eye.

The front of my skull ached, the horns trying to force themselves out. Balling my hand into a fist and resting it on my lap, I tempered the beast down.

“Absolutely. I’d be happy to give you contact information for former clients who agreed to speak on my behalf if you wish.”

Apollo flicked his wrist. “Not necessary. You’re already coming with glowing recommendations.”

Chelsea’s cheeks turned rosy.

“And say, Dion, does this also mean you got my reply to your wanted ad? The one looking for performances for your club?” Apollo swayed his hand back and forth like he was conducting an orchestra.

This son of a bitch.

“You own a club?” Chelsea asked, curiosity lacing her tone but also a hint of hurt that made my stomach clench.

Giving a quick nod, I stayed focused on my idiot half-brother. “Are you signing on with her or not, Apollo?”

“Oh, there’s no need to rush.” Chelsea pressed a hand over my bicep, and the contact made my entire body feel like melting wax. I couldn’t say I’d ever felt so relaxed before.

“No point in dragging it out, Miss Stewart. You’re hired.” Apollo offered his hand again, and they shook, Chelsea’s eyes beaming. “Where do I sign?”

“Give me one moment,” Chelsea replied, excitedly swiping through screens on her tablet before turning it around and sliding it toward Apollo. “If you don’t want to use your finger, I have a?—”

Apollo signed his name with a flourish of his index finger and flipped the tablet back to her.

“—stylus,” Chelsea finished, pulling it from her purse and staring gobsmacked at the signature. “You didn’t want to read through the contract first?”

Apollo beat his fingers on the table before pushing to his feet. “No need. I trust you.”

Chelsea rubbed her collarbones, causing her skin to redden. “Well, thank you. I should give you my cell number before you leave.”

Apollo slipped his hands in his pockets. “Dion has my number; you can text it to me. Right, bro?”

“I’ll give it to her. Shouldn’t you be getting back to New York?” I’d said it through gritted teeth, unsure how much longer I could hold back from sucker-punching him in the jaw.

Apollo pressed his palms together and bowed. “Guilty as charged. But text me, Chelsea, and we’ll set a meeting up next week to iron everything out, yeah?”

“Perfect.” Chelsea rose and shook Apollo’s hand. “Thank you again.”

Apollo turned and headed for the exit right as an ogre entered the diner.

His skin was a pale green,with two large curved tusks sticking out from his bottom lip.

He had to duck to fit through the doorway.

I sprung to action, purposely scooting past Chelsea and moving to the spot across from her, keeping her attention away from the obvious before I had a chance to tell her.

And that time was now .