Chapter Nine
Maximus
It’s my first full day back at Alameda, and my office entrance seems to have grown an invisible revolving door. If the visitors were all just students seeking answers to their wonderings about divine authority, moral justice, and the true definition of hell, I’m sure I’d be pumping my fist in triumph instead of grinding enamel off my teeth—especially as another knock at the doorjamb cracks the air.
“Yes?”
I don’t hide the asshole-level growl from my voice. Already I wonder what new emissary has been sent down to me from Veronica Valari’s hill. So far today, I’ve had stop-ins from the woman’s social media manager, press adviser, legal team lead, brand endorsement specialist—and yes, even a coiffure consultant, who tried coming at me with trimming shears.
I was kind about my hard no to that. I’m not feeling so kind anymore. How many more can there be?
I’m done stressing about the answer, so I keep my head down and my fingers going on my laptop, eager to finish commenting on the essay filling the screen—the same essay I’ve been grading for the last two hours.
“Weird flex from the guy with the little miss hottie walking out of his office, muttering nonstop about his goldilocks.”
I look up and laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to see your face, Mr. North.”
“Good thing I like yours too, sweetheart,” he quips. “Because I’m seeing it a lot lately. By the way, I think your right side is your best. At least from what I could see during the ‘Juicy Scoop’ segment on the monitor over the gas pump this morning.”
“Jesus.” I drop my nose into my fingers.
“So, back to the cute little number dedicated to your luscious locks. You got her number, right? Asking for a friend.”
“Married,” I supply while pushing my laptop aside. “With one kid. Trying for another.”
Jesse mutters a curse beneath his breath.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, unwilling to surrender my grin. “Just get in here and flip the sign on your way.” If any more members of the Valari optics squad swarm in, they’ll have to wait.
After fulfilling the request, Jesse pins me with an impressive version of his scientist’s scrutiny. His eyes are steely as scalpels, his jaw’s set like a canyon wall, and his shoulders are the cliffs to go along with that chiseled rock. It’s all enhanced more because his hair isn’t in the way. The unruly waves have been wrestled back, leaving some dancing room for his impressively wicked brows. Alameda should hire every member of the science department by auditioning them on that look.
“Has the student tidal wave been that bad already?” he questions. “It’s still October, right? Too late for adds or drops, and too early for semester-finals stress. Maybe they’re all just interested in Alameda’s newest pop culture it dude.” He snickers but cuts in on himself with a grimace. “Or has it been more drama with the board? You were vague about it in your messages.”
“I was vague because the board was too. I was advised to take a few days off, but then I wasn’t.”
He frowns. “Just like that?”
I refrain from mirroring his look. It wasn’t just like that, thanks to Veronica pulling magic strings behind the Alameda curtain in order to reopen the university’s gates for me. But no way am I ready to hit him with all that. I give Jesse complete credit for how his scientist’s imagination can stretch, but there are limits to the realm of scientific possibility—even his.
Besides, there’s another reality I’ve got to bring him up to speed about. One that’s more urgent than craziness like my king-of-gods father and my eight forgotten years in the land of myths and immortals.
“Just like that,” I finally say. “Maybe the board finally gathered their collective shit and realized that in the grand scheme of campus scandals, Kara and I are a blip on the radar.”
Jesse settles his elbows on his wheelchair arms. Then narrows that stare again. “Just a blip,” he repeats. “To the tune of hair stylists making office calls and—”
A knock on the door cuts him off. “Professor Kane? It’s Natalie, from Ms. Valari’s office. I need to know how much longer you’ll be, please. I have to take a picture of your ID so they can expedite your security clearance for the red carpet on Friday night. I also have Veronica’s preliminary talking points for the Gold Circle Dinner. You have to review them as soon as possible so the research team can have them done by Saturday. All of this is time sensitive, so—”
“Natalie?” I hate answering her interruption with the same, but there’s no other choice.
“Yes?” The young woman is softer, responding to the authority in my tone.
“There’s a café in the courtyard in front of the library. I’ll meet you down there in thirty minutes.”
Already I feel her hesitancy. In Mama Valari time, that’s a lot of minutes. In my world, where I’ve got to explain the last forty-eight hours to Jesse with clarity and diplomacy, it’s a hiccup. But not in any funny sense of the word. Already his face reflects stunned creases at the mention of the Gold Circle Dinner. The annual event at President McCarthy’s home is so swanky, most of the Alameda professors aren’t invited.
“Very well, Professor,” she finally says.
My relief is palpable. So is the low hum of frustration I’ve been battling to subdue all day.
“And that officially hit my saturation point on the day for hearing Veronica’s name,” I grumble, half to myself, half to my audience of one.
“Red carpet clearance, eh? And the Gold Circle Dinner?” Jesse works his jaw back and forth while studying the mesh of his fingers at the center of his lap. “I guess the board really did come to their senses about welcoming you back to the fold.”
I pull in a harsh breath. “Jesse…”
“Hey. It’s cool, man.”
“I can assure you, it’s not.”
“Oh, come on.” He drops his hands. “You know me better than that, sugar Kane. Am I pissed because you’re going to the Alameda University version of the VIP backstage party? Of course. But will I hold it against you?” He spews some gruff air. “Fuck that.”
“Want to swap places?” I’m half-serious and tell him so with a deliberate stamp of my gaze. “You know that just thinking of this stuff gives me hives.”
“Hell yeah, I know. Which, of course, only firms up my overriding conclusion about all of this.”
“Which is?”
“That you must have it bad for that woman.” He brings his hands together again. “Clearly you’ve been holding back a few details since we last spoke—all of them beginning with Kara and ending in Valari.”
“And you can dream on about getting any more details than that,” I jibe in response to his waggling brows.
He shrugs. “A best friend since childhood can only hope.”
Though his banter is obvious, it gives me pause for thought—and inspiration. I fix a tighter regard on him, rubbing at my bottom lip. “Would a best friend since childhood consider a Gold Circle invite as an acceptable olive branch?”
“Whoa. You’re serious?”
“As much as I can be.” I lower my finger and rest my chin on my knuckles. “I have no idea how much sway I have with the venerable Veronica, but it’s worth an ask.”
He looks equal parts gobsmacked and humbled. “All right, but an ‘olive branch’ isn’t necessary, man. We’re good. You don’t have to do anything to prove that.”
“Maybe I want to. And maybe…”
“What?” he pushes after my significant pause.
I spin my chair around and then rise to look out the window before answering. “Maybe it’s a selfish move on my part.”
I’m grateful when Jesse backs off on the pressure. Hopefully he gets it with those simple words and won’t get nosy on me for the rest. Normally he can read enough of me to know which end of my mind is up and which is down. And there’s a damn good possibility those poles won’t be correctly balanced come this Saturday night.
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“Well, if that’s the case, you know I’ve got your back, buddy. Even if we’re barreling headfirst into the Valari family fray.”
“Thanks. Though I’m pretty sure it’s not my head leading the way this time.”
“You won’t be the first in history to say that, my friend. Nor the last.”
“True,” I mutter. Just maybe the most screwed.
Especially once I’m in the same room as Arden Prieto. Maybe even forced to interact with him.
Even if Veronica is flexing her full PR muscle to enforce the new order of things here, Kara can barely stand to say his name.
I’ll just have to stick to the facts and trust that Prieto feels the same and will act accordingly. That he yearns to please his underworld overlords more than he wants to throw down with a son of fucking Zeus.
I force myself to kill the budding fantasy of all the ways it could go down. Because that party has to go right. Everything this week has to.
If Kara and I fail to win massive social clout…
If Z goes bust at making nice with his brothers…
If Arden decides he doesn’t want to play nice…
I can’t begin to consider the very real consequences. A life without Kara.
The truth is as biting and brutal as the chilled wind that beats at the window and visibly slices across the courtyard below. It tears dried leaves and twigs off the trees, making people huddle into scarves and light jackets. Overnight, Southern California has decided to become Upstate New York. A different landscape.
Just like me. Suddenly changed. Confronting a new, uncontrollable normal. And trying to prevent the useless leaves from clogging up my mind.
In the days, weeks, and even months to come, keeping my head screwed on straight—and my self-control tethered—is going to be more crucial than ever.
Chapter Ten
Kara
“What exactly do you plan to do with all that forbidden fruit, Miss Valari?”
I smirk and ignore Maximus’s teasing question as I hand over some cash to the young woman working one of the food stands at the farmer’s market.
“Thanks so much,” the worker murmurs, her hands shaking as she returns my change along with a bulging sack of ripe GoldRush apples. “Have a great day.”
Her nervousness, which I try to soothe with a kind smile, gives her away. She’s one of a dozen people who’ve already recognized me here. Plenty of photos have been snapped. I’ve noticed a few familiar faces from the Yamashiro swarm lurking in the periphery, but luckily we’ve managed to miss the full onslaught of media attention this afternoon. It’s a welcome and wonderful change from the horde who’ve been tagging along on our public outings the last few days.
I take one of the golden apples for myself before Maximus collects the bag from my hand, adding it to the others lining his arm.
“Not to mention the lifetime supply of fresh produce you’ve amassed here,” he adds.
I take a second to just bask in his gorgeous glory. Between the wind in his hair, his tight black T-shirt, and the jeans hugging his stunning legs, I almost forget where I am. What day it is. My own name.
“The apple is just a metaphor, you know,” I manage to get out. “Most likely not the actual forbidden fruit that got poor Eve into so much trouble.”
He cuts in on my verbal apple essay by swiping it from my grasp and taking a bite, his eyes alight with mischief.
“Malus,” I continue, “is Latin for both apple and evil. Wordplay is all. I’m surprised you didn’t know that, Professor Kane.”
“What makes you think I didn’t?”
I snatch the apple back. “Because you’re just the type to interject when you know the right answer. But all I heard was you chomping on my apple.”
He chuckles softly. “Sounds like you’re projecting a little bit, sweetheart. Missing your classes much?”
“Mostly just yours,” I say with a listless sigh.
The truth is, I miss more than his lectures about sin and morality, along with all the wicked thoughts I get from his poetic baritone and graceful hand motions. I miss the peace that always comes with just being on campus and focusing on my academic work in general, but with the new agenda in full swing, it’s been impossible to get back to the routine I love so much.
So maybe I was premature in my gratitude for my mother’s benevolence. Maybe she knew exactly what she was doing—giving me permission to go back to school, knowing full well it’d be impossible while juggling her packed schedule for us.
Even so, we have bigger problems to face. Threats that were never on my radar. Another layer of worry that I don’t know how to tell Maximus about—or even if I should.
I haven’t been able to get my talk with Gramps out of my head. And in the hours since I left my mother and him to talk it through, I’ve been waiting for any sign that she’s changing course. I’m still waiting… Waiting and worrying.
Maximus’s playful expression sobers when our gazes meet, as if he’s somehow picked up on my mood shift. “How about tomorrow, then? We can drive to campus together.”
I avoid his gaze as we cross the street on the walk back to his place. “Maybe. I can’t promise anything right now.”
“Why not?”
“Getting ready for a movie premiere is a little like prom. It’s an all-day affair.” I try to hide the dread in my tone and push on. “To answer your earlier question, I was thinking that since we’re looking domestic today, maybe we could be domestic and I could try my hand at apple tarts. I’m not much of a baker, and they won’t be nearly as good as the Yamashiro ones, but…oh…” I glance down at my watch, my thoughts suddenly derailed. “Shit.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing. I guess I lost track of time.” Which is not a good thing. At all.
He frowns. “Do we have to be somewhere?”
We? No.
Me? Unfortunately, yes.
“Just a quick thing I have to take care of,” I offer, hiding a wince. Maximus is the most vital person in my world, which means he should be getting the least lies. Instead, I keep being forced to hide things from him. I hate the situation and myself for it.
Thankfully we come upon the entrance to his building, which provides a couple of minutes of distraction getting inside and bringing all the bags upstairs. I find a wooden bowl in a high cabinet of his kitchen and arrange some of the fruit artfully in it, creating a colorful centerpiece in the tiny space.
After a few silent minutes, his wordlessness has me lifting my head. I catch him staring at me, his blues as brilliant as the sky outside. Just as openly, I stare back. He’s leaning against the counter, one hand tucked casually into his jeans, now shamelessly dragging his gaze over me.
“I like seeing you at home here,” he says quietly.
Warmth rushes to my cheeks because I like being at home here. Modest as his condo is next to my place, it’s still cozy. And quiet. And, most importantly, private. So blessedly, wonderfully ours.
Granted, I’m not ungrateful for the house up in the hills. It’s better than living at the Valari complex, which has every amenity but comes with dangerous proximity to my mother’s controlling vortex.
But between Kell running in and out of our place and my mother’s support staff bothering us at nearly all hours, it’s been a revolving door since she and Z showed up.
Hardly romantic…
But the way Maximus looks at me now feels decidedly more than romantic. The heat in his gaze, with the outer rings of his irises augmented to pure cobalt, hints at a cascade of longing waiting to be set free. It heightens my own pent-up desire. I’d love nothing more than to see it free.
Instead, I swallow over the rush of need coursing through me and refocus on rearranging the fruit bowl. No point starting something we can’t finish.
“Well, Mom actually wants me to stay here for a couple of days. She says the optics are priceless. So if it’s okay with you, I was thinking after the premiere—”
“If it were up to me, Kara, you’d never leave.” The words are low and swift, removing any doubt as to his genuineness—as well as every hot, needy thing it does to my bloodstream.
I close my eyes with a sigh, savoring his adoration more than my aching senses. “And if it were up to me, I don’t think I would either. I just wish it could be that simple.”
He takes one long stride toward me. Inside another second, he’s cradling my hip in one of his large hands as he spins me to face him.
I gaze up, my lips parted as I’m knocked breathless from his speed and his strength. Not to mention the sheer force of his appetite for our closeness. For me. Every molecule between us is weighted with that beautiful, inexorable truth.
“We could make it simple,” Maximus murmurs.
“What?” I force out. “Make what simple?”
“Us. All of it. To hell with the movie premiere. To hell with class this week and photo ops and anything else that puts distance between us. The way my phone has been blowing up every hour of the day, I can assure you, everything we’ve been doing has been sufficiently high profile. Jesus, they’re even calling us ‘Maxkara.’”
I spurt out a soft laugh. “That’s almost catchy.”
“Can’t that be enough publicity to buy us a few days? Just you and me?” He touches his forehead to mine, his eyes searching, passionate and vulnerable all at once. “With nothing between us,” he whispers against my lips.
My breath rushes out, but he doesn’t give me a second to recover. To argue…
With the urgent press of his kiss and the way he pins himself against me, I’m swept away in him. In the heady way he makes me feel and the beautiful fantasy he’s painting of us. Just us. Just this fire and falling and connection. Our bodies reunited. Our souls fully soldered. Our hearts beating as one. Losing track of the days in his bed.
Overwhelmed with that possibility, I moan against his mouth. I can’t reel it back, even knowing how it’s greenlighting his next motions. He begins working the buttons down the front of my dress, carefully enough not to tear the threads keeping them attached to the fragile vintage garment.
Heart of Fire: (Blood of Zeus: Book Two) Page 8