Apple of Fate

by Elle Beaumont

  Apple of Fate

  Copyright © 2021 by Elle Beaumont

  Published by Midnight Tide Publishing.

  www.midnighttidepublishing.com

  Cover designed by Harvest Moon Designs

  facebook.com/groups/HarvestMoonDesigns

  Edited by Meg Dailey

  thedaileyeditor.wordpress.com/editing-services

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, trademarks, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

  * * *

  All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  To be continued…

  Acknowledgments

  About Elle Beaumont

  Street Team

  The Official Playlist

  More From Elle Beaumont

  More Books You’ll Love

  The Medusa Project by Lou Wilham

  Clouded by Envy by Candace Robinson

  Constellations of Scars by Melissa Eskue Ousley

  Kendel, this one is for our insta-love relationship.

  One week on the beach with you was enough to send me head over heels into our happily ever after.

  Acontius

  * * *

  2019

  Modern Day Ephesus

  Selçuk, Turkey

  Tourists milled around the dirt pathway in front of the temple’s ruins. There wasn’t much left of Artemis’ temple, which had been rebuilt thrice in the past thousands of years. Eventually, patrons gave up and said it was the will of the gods that the temple remain in ruins. It wasn’t. Acontius had listened to the goddess curse the names of her patrons as they forgot her and called her a myth and no more.

  A myth couldn’t bring a mortal to their knees.

  At a young age, Acontius had witnessed what Artemis was capable of: love, wrath, vengeance. She’d saved him from death once as a plague swept through his home island, raised him as one of her own, and in return, she asked for his service, his allegiance. Which he’d given her freely as a boy, but after centuries of being alone, he wanted more.

  Day in and day out, he watched as families strolled through the old sacred grounds. Children laughing, couples leaning in together as they took pictures. Acontius wanted that.

  Acontius pulled an apple from a brown paper bag, buffing the golden skin on the lapel of his black sports jacket. He sighed, raising the apple to his mouth, just as he caught sight of one tourist venting to her companion.

  “I don’t want to be stuck behind the newlywed couple,” the female tourist muttered. “Because, yes, I’m still getting over Matt.” She spun away from the sight of the ruins, her chestnut hair woven into a crown braid. Luminous brown eyes caught ahold of his hazel pair for a moment, and in that instant, Acontius saw what he often felt churning inside him: loneliness. But as quickly as their eyes met, her father (he guessed, judging by their similar facial structure) pulled her back toward the site.

  In recent years, Acontius’ immortality had gnawed at him. But it was more than that; it was the fact that he’d taken a vow to remain untethered. After thousands of years alone, he finally wanted what he couldn’t have: a life with one he loved.

  Twisting his lips, he plucked a pen from his pocket and stared down at the apple in his hand. With little thought, he etched words into the skin of the fruit.

  A voice up the pathway called out to the group. “We are about to continue speaking, please join us if you don’t want to miss out.”

  The woman that had caught his attention didn’t budge. The man she was with shrugged and continued on, muttering something Acontius couldn’t hear.

  She turned, facing the ruins. A pile of stone rubble, a lone column, and a sad pool of water that had once been a great pond.

  Idly, Acontius wondered what she saw beyond the ruins.

  He couldn’t think about it for too long. This was his moment. Now or never.

  Rolling the apple toward the young woman’s feet, he quickly dodged out of her line of sight.

  The apple rolled until it nudged her foot. She yelped in surprise and bent down, inspecting it as if it were from an alien planet. She spun it around until the etched surface stared up at her, and in disbelief, she recited the words. “I swear by Artemis to marry Acontius.” She squinted at the apple, scoffing before she tossed it down the hill.

  Acontius’ heart thundered in his ears. She had no idea the weight her words held, or what a vow meant on sacred ground.

  What had he done in that foolish moment?

  Artemis would have his immortality, and then hunt him down when she found out. But then, why did he grin? Why did his eyes light with pure joy?

  That young woman had made a vow on sacred ground, which meant one thing: it’d have to come to fruition.

  Delia

  * * *

  Present Day

  West Palm Beach, Florida

  * * *

  Delia’s nails clacked away at her laptop’s keyboard as she updated her resume. In the past six months, she’d managed to not only lose her job but also her relationship with her long-term boyfriend. 2020 was not looking to be her year like she’d claimed it would be.

  She groaned.

  The doctors had been puzzled over what caused her hospitalizations. Each time she’d collapsed, unresponsive, and her blood test results tanked, showing her organs about to fail. It was the third time she had been admitted to the hospital when they deemed it a possibility she was doing this to herself.

  Why, in heaven's name, would she send herself to the hospital in such a state?

  They claimed it was for attention.

  Delia claimed something was wrong with her.

  And that was how, and why, her last boyfriend, Jacob, dumped her. And why her boss suggested an extended leave of absence, which was another term for, “We don’t want to fire you, but you also can’t work here.”

  Jacob had concluded she was harming herself, either by prescription drugs or something else, and when she denied it—because it wasn’t true—he left. It hurt, but she didn’t need someone like that in her life. What stung more was losing her job. It was the icing on top of the cake.

  Amidst her typing, her phone blared “Waiting for Superman” by Daughtry. She snatched it up and peered at the screen. A picture from last year’s trip to Greece and Turkey stared at her. She and her father stood in front of the remains of the Temple of Artemis in Selçuk.

  She frowned at the screen, then answered. “Hey, Dad. Is everything okay?”

  “Hey, Pumpkin. Everything is all right. I just wanted to go over some details about the upcoming trip.”

  Ever since her mother had passed away fifteen years ago, they’d spent anywhere from two weeks to a month traveling through Greece and Turkey. Mostly because Delia’s father was from Greece, and he enjoyed showing her his old stomping grounds. But more than that, he enjoyed unloading all of his Greek mythology and history knowledge on her. Delia didn’t mind; she enjoyed the trips and spending every ounce of time with her father that she could.

  As much as she didn’t feel like traveling, maybe it was what she needed mentally. A change, and a break from reality, which, in her opinion,
sucked.

  Withholding a sigh, she bit her bottom lip. “Mmhmmm?”

  “I think we should stay for a month this time. Remember last year passed too quickly? I think it’d be good for us.”

  They never stayed in one place too long, which made it fun. And her father was right. Plus, it wasn’t as if she had a job to anchor her anywhere.

  “Yeah? You think?” Delia turned away from her computer and stood up. “A month away would be nice, but are you sure you can get away for that long?”

  Her father chuckled on the other end of the phone. “Perks of being the boss, honey. I don’t have to be in the office. I can work while we’re on vacation.”

  “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?” She laughed.

  “Kind of, but we both need the change of scenery, I think.”

  True enough. Through her many health scares, Delia had seen the toll it took on her father. It wasn’t so much the physical signs, like dark circles beneath his eyes, but it was more his need to check in with her constantly via texting or phone calls. She could only assume it dredged up the horrific memories of watching his wife wither away before him. By the time Delia’s mother had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer, they didn’t have long with her. It was a rapid decline. As difficult as it was, she and her father still cherished their last memories with her.

  “Well, as of right now, I have nothing planned. At the rate I’m going, I don’t think I’ll have any bites on my resume.” Delia sighed. Who wanted a young woman who would have to work from home often and perhaps spend time in the hospital at random?

  Likely, no one.

  “Shoot. The lawyer is calling. I’ve got to let you go, Pumpkin. Love you, talk soon.”

  Once the call ended, Delia opened her e-mail app. She had two new emails from different companies regarding her resume and job opportunities. A month and a half without a job passed surprisingly quickly, but it was funny how once there was no reason to get up in the morning—or put on real clothes—the days blurred together.

  She opened the first one and didn’t read past the opening line, which was full of regret. “We regret to inform you,” Delia muttered. “My ass.” The next email was no better.

  The most infuriating thing was that Delia loved her job. She loved working, creating graphics, and coming up with ideas for public relations. All the marketing her previous employer had done was her idea. It had been one of the most successful quarters for the construction company in a long time.

  Frustrated, she took her laptop out onto the balcony of her apartment and settled in to apply for more jobs.

  The view from here was her favorite. Beyond the small park, which boasted tall palm trees, the harbor was in clear view. The sun reflected off the water, scattering across the rolling waves, lending the surface a gem-like appearance. At night, she could hear the pluplupluplup of the boat engines as they docked. But it was the sunset that took her breath away every evening with its purples, blues, and golds.

  Sitting down, she focused on finishing the five new applications she’d filled out. All she could do was take a deep breath and ask whatever Fates were listening in to pull their magical strings and make sure everything was all right.

  * * *

  The next morning, Delia received a phone call from a potential employer. Nerves rattled her as they always did, no matter how often she endured interviews. Something about selling herself didn’t settle well with her, but she’d give it her all, like she did with everything.

  With a pen in hand, Delia took a deep breath and started the gut-twisting process.

  The interview passed by in a blur, all warbled voices and forced laughter. By the time the painful forty minutes had passed, Delia was wrung out emotionally.

  Hope could invigorate a person, but the mixed feelings of hope and doubt were exhausting.

  Sloan’s Ice Cream Shop called her name in the worst way.

  By early noontime, the sun had heated Delia’s car to the point that she could fry an egg on her black dashboard. “This is the worst year,” she muttered, slipping into her leather seat. “Mother cluckin’ a…” Growling in frustration, she turned the A/C on, then drove away. There was no way she was not getting Sloan’s mixed berry stracciatella.

  When she arrived at Rosemary Square, Delia all but raced to Sloan’s. The pink doors and orange accents contrasted with the otherwise bone-white building. Before she even made it to the door, the smell of freshly cooked waffle cones and bowls tickled her senses. As much as she enjoyed the crunch of the cone, she debated on whether to go extreme. Extreme like…

  A boy with short-cropped hair and a massive gap in his front teeth walked out of the shop, grinning from ear to ear as he looked down at his bucket of ice cream. Not a small, cute bucket like a toddler could carry, but a good-sized one that was overflowing with ice cream, whipped cream, and graham crackers. That was the extreme Delia needed… and she needed it now.

  In line, she waited until it was nearly her turn, then watched as the workers slipped from behind the counter and carried a massive order of ice cream to an awaiting table. It wasn’t a bowl, or even a bucket; it was practically a kitchen sink, full of a mountain of cookies, graham crackers, and, somewhere at the bottom she assumed, ice cream.

  For a moment, Delia wondered if her situation was that dire, but decided it wasn’t. A bucket would do fine. Otherwise, she’d need a kitchen sink to evacuate the contents of her stomach.

  One worker reappeared behind the counter. A smile tugged at her lips, and she nearly buzzed with energy. Perhaps the sugar had just leaked into her.

  “What can I get you?”

  Decisions, decisions. “The sandcastle sundae with the mixed berry stracciatella, and yes to everything that comes with it.” After paying, Delia moved to a seat and waited for the bucket to arrive.

  A well of emotions bubbled up. The longer she sat by herself, the more time she had to dwell on her current situation. All of it: the break up, the loss of her job… It felt like everything in her life was crumbling. By the time the worker brought her pail, she was almost in tears.

  “Thank you,” Delia murmured as she picked up her spoon. The first spoonful was heaven, but on the second, Delia almost choked on it as she cried.

  If it hadn’t been Delia’s life, she would have thought it was a romantic comedy, and that she, the poor protagonist, was something to laugh and “aww” over. But this was real, and it plain sucked. The whole year: Jacob not believing how sick she was, the hospital, and then being fired. What more could the Fates drop at her feet?

  Midway through a bite, Delia’s phone rang. It was her dad again. “Mmm?” She sniffled.

  “Where are you? We can meet for lunch today. I can clear all of my meetings and postpone them.”

  Oh, Dad… Delia’s heart squeezed, knowing her father would cancel everything to whisk her away and brighten her day. “No. Don’t do that. I’m eating ice cream at Sloan’s…” Her voice cracked, which she had fought hard against, because Delia knew her father would only…

  “Oh, Pumpkin. You’re going to be all right. Take a deep breath, and know no matter what, I love you and I’m proud of you.”

  …do that. He would do that and open the floodgates. Tears rolled down her cheeks, splashing down onto the checkered tabletop. “I know. Thank you. I know I’m going to be okay, it’s just… I really liked this job.”

  Her father sighed on the other end. “I know. I can help you find a similar position if you’d like. Before you say anything… I realize you don’t want a position handed to you, but you always have a place here at Energesco. You’re brilliant with marketing and publicizing things.”

  As much as Delia didn’t want to admit it, she was very much a spoiled brat. Her father was an immigrant from Greece. He’d come to the states when he was only eleven years old, but he worked his tail off for everything he had today. Alexander Rentumis didn’t know how to relax, not really. But he’d built his energy company from the ground up, finding fresh ways
to conserve and help companies achieve green energy.

  When he met Delia’s mother, Tina, it was love at first sight, or so her father said. They’d given Delia a fairytale kind of life, but the happily ever after soured. Her mother died. Delia’s health was now failing, and she was jobless on top of it all.

  “I’ll think about it. But right now, I just want to think of the beautiful beaches in Greece.”

  Her father laughed. “So… a month it is, then?”

  “Hell yes.”

  Paper crinkled on the other end of the phone, and the sound of scribbling came through too. “All right. Time will fly by, and before you know it, we will be there.”

  “Not soon enough.” Delia stared down into the dwindling amount of ice cream. How did it disappear so quickly? She frowned and eyed her phone’s screen. “I’ll see you soon, Dad.”

  She hung up and debated finishing the last quarter of the ice cream, but it sat in her belly like a brick instead of like the light, airy treat she’d wanted.

  There was no need for the pail. Since she didn’t want a dairy mess in her car, and there was no kid around to enjoy the bucket, Delia returned it to the counter and left the shop.

  The humid air slapped her in the face again.

  When Delia was little, playing with her American Girl doll, she’d always imagined that by the time she was twenty-four, she’d be married with a baby on her hip. Although by no means was she ancient, it’d always been on her list of things she wanted in life. But now? She felt as though she’d known more when she was ten than she did now.