The Playboy God (Gods of Olympus Book 7)

by Erin Hayes

  It’s all ruined.

  I groan and rub my hands on my face. “Thanks, Max.”

  She lets out a breath and nods. She’s probably worried about job security, especially with clients dropping like flies and my reputation in the shitter. I wouldn’t blame her if she were looking for another job or trying to find other means of making money.

  Then again, I don’t think my life would be able to function without her.

  “Do you need any coffee or anything, Mr. Liu?” she asks my publicist, raising her chin a bit. I see her lips quirk a bit.

  “You’re supposed to ask me if I need any coffee as well,” I tell her playfully. “I’m out of scotch.” I wiggle my glass, and the ice cubes clink loudly against one another.

  Her grin grows, but she pointedly keeps her eyes on Steven.

  Steven regards her for a moment before giving her a sly smile, one that doesn’t make sense to me. “No, I’m all right. Thank you, though.”

  Now Max whips her gaze over to me. “Your appointments are done for the day,” she says.

  “All right.” I nod. “I’ll finish up with Steven here, but you can go ahead and go home. Thanks, Max.”

  “Actually,” Steven says, shifting in his chair, “I will take that coffee.”

  Max nods curtly. “Sure, I’ll just be right back—”

  “A Starbucks grande macchiato,” Steven continues, interrupting her, “with nonfat milk, medium temperature. I can’t drink anything else.” He gives her an apologetic smile.

  Max looks at him incredulously, her eyebrow pinched together as irritation settles in on her layer by layer. I frown at my publicist as well, wondering at his sudden change. I almost tell Max that it’s fine and that I’d get him a coffee myself, but Steven looks back at me, his eyes imploring to just go along with it.

  “O…kay,” Max says slowly. She glances back at me, waiting for me to intervene, and when I don’t, her cheeks color in anger. “Instead of spending that fifteen minutes heading home early, I’ll spend it getting you coffee at the most inconvenient place. Do you want anything to add to that order, Mr. Eros?”

  I know better than to agree, so I just shake my head. “Thanks, Max.”

  She spins on her heel and slams my office door behind her, rattling it on its hinges.

  “She’s a fiery one,” Steven says sitting back.

  “Yeah,” I say, exasperated. “What the fuck was that about?”

  Steven throws back his head and laughs. “Only a crazy idea about how we can repair your reputation. How well do you know…?”

  “Maxine Galloway,” I finish. “And not well. She’s been my personal assistant ever since I’ve had the matchmaking agency, but she’s rather private with her life.”

  Steven clasps his hands on my desk, looking at me like I’m the asshole now. “And you never had a heart-to-heart with her in all that time? You never invited her family over to your place for a holiday party?”

  I shrug. As a god myself, I don’t tend to celebrate mortal holidays, especially when they’re based in a religion that celebrates a single god. I was lucky to remember to give Max Christmas off that first year.

  “As I said, we keep work and our personal lives very separate,” I finally answer.

  “Is she married?”

  I frown. “I think she’s divorced.”

  “Think? What about kids?” Steven presses, and I don’t like that he’s interrogating me like this. It’s too close to when I had that disastrous interview with the newspaper. “Have you not paid attention to photos on her desk? Her skipping days of work to take care of her family?”

  Max’s desk is the most immaculate on the planet. Not a paper clip is out of place, and she doesn’t have photographs framed or lying around. It doesn’t fit with the vibe of a super-elite matchmaking agency. She’s organized to a fault, and that’s helped her become one of the best personal assistants around.

  “She has at least one. Other than that, I don’t know.” But I do know she’s a single mother, even if she doesn’t talk about her home life.

  Steven laughs and shakes his head. “You don’t deserve a personal assistant like her.”

  I stiffen. “Weren’t you the one who asked her to go out to Starbucks after I told her she could go home?”

  He waggles his finger at me. “Only because I had a great idea that she’ll need to be here for.”

  “Which is?”

  “How long have you had a thing for Max?”

  It takes a moment for his words to make sense, and when they do, they’re ludicrous. Nonsensical. Crazy.

  I sit back and shake my head. “I don’t have a thing for Max.”

  And, to my horror, I sound like I’m in denial. So much, that Steven laughs. “Could have fooled me. You two have chemistry, even if you don’t realize it. I don’t have to be a matchmaker to see it.”

  “So?” Defensive. In denial.

  “So,” he says, mocking me, “what better way to prove that you’re not a playboy than by showing that you’re settling down with one woman?”

  “Settling…” I blink before I get to my feet in shock. “You’re saying marry her?”

  Steven shrugs. “In a manner of speaking. I was thinking you could have an extended engagement with her. A fake one, of course. But one that shows that you can be serious and can be entirely committed to one woman.”

  “And how is a fake engagement supposed to prove that I’m not a playboy?”

  Steven taps his temple. “That’s why you have the extended engagement. This will blow over, and you can quietly ‘break up’ with her when the cameras aren’t watching. Wash your hands of it; you’re done. Forgotten.”

  I shake my head. “And that will go over so well with my clients. The ones that I speak to on a regular basis.”

  “Well, that’s why I was asking how long you had a thing for Max.” Steven glances at the door. “Because, well, I was thinking you could do a marriage of convenience.”

  The idea is so stupid, I laugh out loud. “What, like a romantic comedy?” I waggle my finger. “I know this movie. It’s a fake marriage of this poor schmuck, and he falls in love with the person he was in a fake relationship with?”

  He snickers. “Well, when you put it that way…” His voice trails off, and he waits for my reaction. “Listen, there is a reason you pay me—for out-of-the-box thinking—”

  “Yeah, I pay you for ideas that work.”

  “—and this will give you the results that you want,” he insists. “Everyone loves a playboy who finds love where he doesn’t expect. If you follow through with this, I promise, it will get your reputation back on track.”

  “You’re full of shit,” I tell him without mirth.

  He shrugs and grabs his coat as he taps the articles on my desk. “Regardless of what you think, Damien, you’ve got a huge problem on your hands. And you need creative thinking to fix this.” He eyes me. “By the way, thank you for setting me up with Katherine,” he says softly, his face warming at the thought of his brand-new wife. “She’s expecting our first child.”

  “Congratulations,” I say.

  “I do believe in the work you do. Which is why I don’t want some bad publicity to drag you down.”

  He doesn’t know the half of it.

  “I don’t want to drag Max into it either.”

  He considers this for a moment, then nods. “Think on it. Regardless, whatever you do, don’t be the Damien Eros that we know and hate.” He winks.

  I snicker. “I’m sure that won’t be easy.”

  We shake hands in good-bye, but Steven pulls me close. “Seriously—think on what I said.”

  “I will.” I mean it sincerely, although I don’t see how it can go that way. First of all, it’s a very bad idea to ruin my working relationship with the best goddamn personal assistant ever to walk the earth. And secondly, Max would never go for something like this.

  She’s too pragmatic.

  Steven grins as he gathers up the new artic
les he had clipped for me. “I’ll be back next week to discuss any developments.”

  I wave him away. “It will just be more gloom and doom. Tell Katherine I said hi.”

  His eyes crinkle at the corner as he reflects fondly on his wife. “Will do.”

  And he leaves. I blow out a big sigh and turn to face the big window overlooking Central Park. I muss my hair, thinking on his words and the incredibly stupid proposition.

  Did I have a thing for Max? Possibly? But even an idiot like myself would know better than to attempt to do anything with her. She was hard around the edges, like an expertly forged katana. Beautiful to look at, but if you get too close, it will slice you in two.

  I laugh softly to myself. More like slaughtered in Max’s case.

  I couldn’t do that to her. Wouldn’t do that to her. Not for my sake. I’m the god of freaking love. I should be able to figure this out. They’re only mortals that I’m dealing with.

  “Well, Mr. Give-Me-A-Starbucks-Drink couldn’t even stay for his fucking macchiato,” Max mutters behind me.

  Shit.

  I whirl to look back at her. Frankly, she looks pissed and is holding two to-go cups.

  “Max! I’m so sorry. He had to leave and—”

  “Do things that are more important than my time,” she sneers. She plucks out the green stir stick from the mouth of the cup and sips. “That’s why I got a double-shot latte. I knew he wouldn’t want to hang around. Asshole.” She closes her eyes and slowly licks the foam away from her lips.

  And, to my horror, my cock stiffens at the sensual gesture. I hide behind my desk, away from Max so she couldn’t see my well-tailored pants bulging in the front. The curse of being a well-endowed god.

  It’s just because Steven put it in my head that I had a “thing” for Max. Nothing more.

  “I got you your usual, by the way,” Max says, striding over and setting down a steaming Americano. “I figured you would be jealous if I got a drink and you didn’t. You’re always looking at what others have that you don’t.”

  I chuckle as I pick it up. She really does know everything about me. And it’s enough to take my mind off my erection. “Thanks.”

  “I used the company credit card, and I’ll make sure that his company sees the bill for my time and the drink,” she says, meeting my gaze, daring me to complain.

  I don’t. I just realize how green her eyes are. Almost feral. A wood nymph would be jealous of how wild she looks. And how beautiful.

  Shit, I need to stop with the sexy thoughts.

  She smiles serenely after a moment and steps back. “Glad we could agree on that. Did you have a good meeting with Mr. Liu?”

  I swallow back the dry lump in my throat. “Mostly.”

  “Good. Anything interesting? Or is he as incompetent as he is at waiting for a damn cup of coffee?”

  I laugh. “Only this crazy idea that he had to help my reputation.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? What is it?”

  And then I freeze, realizing how close I had been to telling her the stupid idea that Steven had.

  “It’s nothing.” And fucking Hades, I blush like some sort of embarrassed asshole.

  Of course, Max doesn’t miss a thing. “Nothing?”

  Nonchalantly, I wave it away. “He had this crazy idea of you acting as my fake fiancée for a while to show that I’m not a playboy and that I can commit to one woman and that I do believe in love.”

  And I immediately regret telling her. Her eyes widen as she takes this in, her gaze drifting from my face with this thousand-yard stare. What the hell is she thinking?

  I try to smooth it over as quickly and painlessly as possible. Max is about to freak out, and I really don’t want to lose the only stable thing in my life. “Of course, I told Steven that he was fucking nuts, which is why he probably left early and—”

  “A quarter million dollars.”

  Her voice is so soft I doubt that I even hear it correctly. I blink at her, but she holds my gaze defiantly. “I’m sorry, what?” I ask in disbelief. Because there was no way I heard that. No way that had anything to do with Steven’s insane idea.

  “A quarter million dollars,” she repeats, this time stronger. “I will act as your fiancée for however long you need for a quarter million dollars.” She pauses and gives a self-deprecating laugh. “Hell, I’ll even marry you for that amount of money.”

  I widen my eyes. “What?”

  “I mean,” Max muses, as if to herself, “I’ve already been married once, and marriage is a sham anyway, and—”

  “So, you’re saying that you’ll act as my fake fiancée—and possibly marry me, which wouldn’t be necessary—for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?”

  She shrugs. “Well, yeah.”

  That lump is back in my throat again. “Why?” And, goddammit, I’m nervous about what she has to say.

  Max holds up her right hand and extends a finger for each of her points. “First of all, that much money is something no one should sniff at. Two, if you lose your clients, I’m out of a job. And three, well…” Her voice trails off, and I wonder if there truly is a third point. There is. “I could really, really use that money right now.”

  “Max, you could have asked.”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t want your charity. I don’t want to feel indebted to my employer because I wasn’t as lucky in the money department. But if you want me to do this ridiculous thing, then I’ll agree to it. But I’ll ask for a ridiculous amount of money, too. Just promise me that you won’t pry into my personal life.”

  That last request piques my interest, and I tuck it away in the back of my mind. Max has her boundaries she wants to keep, so I won’t breach them.

  “If you act as my fiancée, I’ll have to know a little bit about your home life.”

  She swallows and nods. “I’ll tell you the bare minimum. Just…I don’t want you dragging my family into this.”

  I sit back. I have to say, a quarter million dollars actually isn’t a lot of money to me. At least, at the moment—that could change at any point if I never get another client. But if this crazy idea does indeed work out, then it wouldn’t be that much.

  So, I make a promise to myself that I’ll add a bonus if it all works out according to plan.

  “Okay,” I say softly, surprising both her and me. “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars for acting as my fake fiancée. I’ll give you half now and half once the spotlight is off me.”

  “Done,” she says, thrusting her hand out. I look at it, unmoving and she rolls her eyes. “You’re supposed to shake on deals. Especially the weird Faustian agreements like this.”

  I start laughing and shake my head, trying to keep this light, like it’s a joke. Like my future isn’t riding on this. “I think this requires a different way to seal the deal.”

  And, as if this day couldn’t get any weirder, I come out from behind the desk to take her hand. “Maxine Galloway,” I say. She blanches because we both realize that shit is about to get real. We stay like this for a several heartbeats, looking into each other’s eyes. She’s beautiful, I realize. Stunning, in fact. If the world had been more fair, she could have been a model or a movie star. She could compete with the most gorgeous of them. I was an asshole for thinking she was an eight.

  “Will you be my fake fiancée?” I say, feeling a little breathless.

  She gives a slow nod. “Yes. Yes, I will be your fake fiancée.” She stops. “For a quarter million dollars.”

  Leave it to Max to be keeping it real.

  5

  “Is this the engagement ring?” Max asks playfully. I try hiding the box from her, feeling embarrassed, but she reaches across from me and grabs the velvety thing.

  We are sitting in the back of a limousine. She’s dressed in a simple black cocktail dress that accentuates her ladylike curves, and her hair is pulled up into a French twist. A string of old pearls encircles her neck, and she looks like something out of Brea
kfast at Tiffany’s.

  Meanwhile, I’m dressed in a three-piece suit. After all, this high-end restaurant that we’re going to has a strict dress code where they’ll kick you out if you are wearing colors that are no longer in vogue. I hate places like this. Everyone judging you and trying to get a read on why you’re there and what you’re doing.

  Which is exactly why Max and I are going there for our first “date” as a couple. It’s a very public place, with a lot of the “who’s who” of New York and the 1% of the world wining and dining.

  Perfect for Max’s debut at my side.

  And I’m feeling so damn embarrassed about the whole thing.

  Max pries open the box and peers down at the ring. It actually catches a streetlight and glints in her eyes. She inspects it for a moment, gives a little giggle, and then her face falls.

  “You didn’t have to get such a big one, Damien.” She pulls out the ring, a twenty-thousand-dollar diamond ring I got from Tiffany’s. I went as cheap as I could without looking like I was trying to save money. I know people would notice. But I wanted something that could pass for a ring that I’d give to my real fiancée.

  I shrug. “Only the best for you.”

  She slides it onto her ring finger and inspects it, wriggling her fingers. “Really, I could have done with a Ring Pop.”

  “What’s a Ring Pop?” I blurt before I realize my mistake by Max’s skeptical expression. It must be one of those things that mortals know about.

  “You don’t hang around a lot of kids, do you?” she asks, giving a shrug. I hope that’s the end of it, because I’d fail a test about anything to do with kids. My realm is dealing with true love, and while that sometimes deals with children meeting their loves at a young age, I’m much more used to adults.

  She takes the ring off and puts it back in the box, handing it back to me.

  I frown at her, refusing to take it back. “What are you doing?”

  “The diamond is way too big.”