The Playboy God (Gods of Olympus Book 7)

by Erin Hayes

  I don’t know how this can be any different, but I can’t give up on her.

  “Please call me back,” I say at length. “I love you. Don’t throw that away before hearing me out.”

  I hang up and toss the phone onto my desk, spent.

  I haven’t gotten any sleep in the week since Max left my office, so my mind feels like it’s been run over by a hydra. Everything seems muddied right now. I can’t focus on anything beyond Max’s absence.

  Everything is incomplete without her by my side.

  A part of me knows that I’m failing. A paparazzi snapped a photo of Max running away from me, and Psyche went to the press after our confrontation, saying that it’s a result of us being together.

  Childish, really. Yet the damage is done.

  Almost half of my clients have canceled in the fallout. Without Max, I can’t keep up with the demands of all my clients. They call me, demand answers that I can’t give, and cancel their meetings with me. I’ve had to dole out refunds to new clients and to those that have been matched but are no longer in their relationship.

  Love is a reflection of my own mental state—with Max gone, nothing is working out correctly. Love in the post-Max-world is floundering. Dying.

  And I couldn’t give a fuck.

  All I want is Max.

  I could go to her house in Jersey City to see her, but if I know Max, I know that wouldn’t go over well at all, considering her past with Logan.

  I’d rather lose Max than make her think that I’m anything like Logan. But…

  I just want her.

  “Mr. Eros,” Carrie says from the door. Since Psyche was here, she’s been more timid in how she talks to me. Like she’s afraid of upsetting me. And I know I haven’t been the best boss in the aftermath of that argument.

  “Yes, Carrie?” I sound tired, even to myself.

  “Mr. Steven Liu is here to see you.”

  I see him peeking around her shoulder. “Let him in.”

  Supposedly, I have an appointment in twenty minutes, but I doubt it will actually happen. People have been dropping their appointments left and right.

  “We have a problem, Damien,” Steven says, his voice hushed and urgent. “A big one.”

  I eye him warily. “I know.”

  Ever since my “scandalous affair” with “Nadya” has been brought to light, I’ve seen Steven every day, trying to think of ways to repair my image and save my business.

  But I don’t have anything left in me. I don’t have the strength to keep fighting.

  Poor Steven wants to, though. I can tell that he’s been wracking his brain trying to find a way. He even suggested an online coupon for deeply discounted matchmaking services. I only laughed at that.

  I know I’m a terrible client. But I’ve lost everything worth living for.

  “I can’t fix this,” Steven says.

  “I know that, too.”

  He just stares at me, aghast. “You’re not making this easy on me.”

  I give him a blithe smile. “I’ve never made it easy on anyone.”

  An unlovable god of love. I’m a walking contradiction.

  “Damien…”

  “It’s fine, Steven. Truly, it’s fine.” I sigh and close my eyes. “It’s fine. I’ve lost Max. I’m losing my business. Maybe this is the way it has to be.”

  Steven says nothing. I can’t help but feel like I’m letting him down, too, but I don’t have it in me anymore to fight my public image and to prove to anyone that I’m someone I’m not.

  Psyche will get what she wants—my life destroyed. And maybe it deserves to be destroyed.

  “I’m sorry about you and Max,” Steven says, and I open my eyes to look at him. “I didn’t realize that you would… After…”

  I smile at him. “No, thank you for that. It took that push to make me realize what I had in front of me. Too late to do anything, but it made me remember why I do what I do.” For the moment. “Just…hold on to Katherine and never let her go.”

  Steven’s face says everything, and I let out a shuddering breath, bracing myself for what’s coming next.

  “Katherine and I are…going through a rough patch.” He combs a hand through his hair, his eyes listless. “She’s staying at her parents’ while we work things out.”

  “I’m… I’m so sorry.” It’s all I can say at the moment, but I’m raging inside and fighting the urge to punch through a wall. Not only is my life in shambles, but it’s impacting those around me. I thought—was sure—that Steve and his wife would be all right through all this.

  I’m not the only one who’s suffering. I’ve let him down in so many ways, and he has no idea.

  He gives me a thin-lipped smile. “Well, with the baby due soon, we’ll figure it out. We have to.”

  I can only nod. “I hope you do.”

  He rises and extends his hand. “I’ll keep thinking of things we can do, but…”

  I take it and give him a firm handshake. “No promises. I understand. You’ve been a really great publicist, Steven, and I really appreciate what you’ve done for me.”

  “I’ll see you soon, Damien.” He gives one last nod and heads out the door with a loud sigh.

  I put my hands in my trouser pockets, frowning after him. It feels like it’s goodbye.

  Regardless, I have to get my shit together. Psyche is succeeding at destroying my life, but she’s doing so much more harm than probably she herself realizes.

  Steven doesn’t deserve unhappiness.

  The person I need to apologize to is Max, but I don’t want to upset her. It’s not her fault that a god fell in love with her. It’s not her fault that I’ve been such an ass and I’m getting my just deserts.

  But it’s impacting everyone across the world. And I should be concerned about how it’s affecting everyone, but I’ve been avoiding the news. War could break out without love in the world.

  Can I move on from this broken heart and try again?

  Fuck, do I even have time before something worse happens?

  I look down at my phone and have the same debate I’ve had with myself this entire week. Should I call Max? Or just head over there like a knight in shining armor?

  To my shock, the phone rings just as I reach out to it. It’s Max’s number, accompanied by a picture I took of her while we were lying in bed together in a happy moment before it all went to shit. She looks like a woman in love. And now she’s calling me.

  I swallow back the lump in my throat before I seize it and answer.

  “Max?”

  There’s a hiccup on the other end. “M—Mr. Arrows?”

  I blink. “Gotham? Gotham, what are you doing, calling me?”

  He lets out a sob on the end. “Where are you, Mr. Arrows?”

  I close my eyes and put a hand to my forehead. Where do you even begin to talk about this stuff with a kid? “Gotham, your mom and I—”

  “Daddy’s here,” he says suddenly, his voice hushed. “And he and Mommy are arguing.”

  I freeze. “Your daddy’s there, Gotham?” Max has a restraining order against him. And she had done everything she could to protect Gotham from seeing him at the door. So, what happened to have them arguing in her house? “What’s he doing?”

  “He’s…scary.”

  “Where’s your grandfather, Gotham?” I demand, hoping that Hector would have the sense to call 9-1-1.

  “He put me in his bedroom,” Gotham sobs. “And then went out again to help Mommy.”

  I close my eyes and swallow back the lump in my throat. “Gotham, listen to me. When I hang up here, I want you to call 9-1-1 and tell them to come to your house, okay? Can you do that for me, buddy?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’ll be right there, okay? Hang on. I’m going to save you and your mommy.”

  “Hurry.”

  The line goes dead.

  I fling my phone away and look up, feeling the rage bubbling up inside me. If that creep laid a finger on Max or her family,
I’ll…

  I hit the intercom button. “Carrie,” I say through clenched teeth. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Mr. Eros?” she asks, confused. I guess she would be since I’m not telling her anything as I leave the office. “What—”

  I don’t get the rest of her question, as I teleport myself out of my office using my powers. It’s about time that Eros proved himself to Max. I’ll prove that I am who I am and keep her family safe.

  And at least put the fear of this god into one abusive son of a bitch.

  20

  I hear Logan’s shouting even before I fully materialize in the doorway of Max’s house. I miss this form of travel. Limos are nice and all, but there’s nothing like teleportation.

  I look to my left and see that the door is off its hinges, with what looks to be a shotgun blast blown right through the wood in the center. The lock is in pieces on the floor, with wood chips all over the place.

  It looks like he blasted his way in.

  What the actual fuck? From what Gotham said, I was expecting there to be a verbal fight. Nothing like this. I knew that Logan was angry, but this is another level entirely.

  Another shout comes from the kitchen, and I whip my head toward it. It’s slurred and so muddied that I can’t quite make out the words, but I hear an answering sob.

  Max. And I’ve never heard her sound like that. Ever.

  I storm through the hallway, closer and closer.

  Max, I’m coming.

  I hear the words better now as I near them. And I know that I have to tread lightly, or else this could blow up. I doubt that Hades or Zeus would give me a pass to bring back Max from the dead if something terrible were to happen.

  “I just want to see my son,” Logan tells her. “You’re keeping my son from me.”

  “Because you’re—” Max says, her voice wavering, but Logan cuts her off with a slurred, “Shut up!”

  I stop in the doorway, and my breath catches in my throat as I take in the scene before me.

  Logan stands in front of Max with a fucking shotgun trained on her chest. She is pale and still as she sits in a chair, her eyes on the twin barrels of the gun. Tears run down her face, but her face is set, hard.

  Hector is slumped in the corner of the kitchen, bleeding from a wound on his head. Like Logan had attacked him with the butt of a shotgun.

  What a despicable piece of shit.

  As I appear in the door to the hallway, both of them turn their heads to look me, Logan in confusion and Max in quiet shock. Her mouth moves, but no words come out. Logan blinks stupidly as if trying to figure out why I’m here.

  Isn’t it obvious?

  “Let her go,” I say, holding out my hand. “Let Max go, all right? This isn’t the way to do it, Logan.”

  Logan’s eyebrows pinch together. “You’re the guy she was fucking,” he says as if putting the pieces together in his state. “Damien Eros.”

  Max watches me, begging with her eyes to get out of here. To call the cops. Anything to get out of harm’s way.

  But I don’t move. After all, I’m here to save her.

  “Put the gun down,” I tell him, waving the motion with my hand. “Put it down, Logan.”

  He doesn’t. “You know, I remember seeing that you had cheated on Max.” He snickers. “She is pretty forgettable, isn’t she? There’s always some other piece of ass that’s better, right?”

  Max still has her eyes wide but doesn’t say anything.

  I keep my eyes on Logan, on that shotgun. “And that’s where you’re so wrong,” I tell him. “There’s never been anyone else like Max. Believe me, I’ve looked.”

  I step forward.

  An ear-splitting crack shatters through the tight space of the kitchen. Max screams. The idiot shot me. Shot a motherfucking god with a mortal weapon. I almost laugh at the sheer idiocy of it.

  The force of the blast makes me stumble slightly, but I keep upright.

  I don’t even feel it, except for the metallic pieces being pushed out of my back. I don’t bleed, don’t have a single mark marring my smooth body. One of the perks of being immortal.

  He did ruin my shirt, though.

  “You really are special, aren’t you?” I growl before I tear off my shirt. I use the motion to pull away my mortal glamour, a technique that I use to keep my glowing godliness from mortal eyes. I glow from the inside out, and I don’t mean with health. I’m my own light source.

  In my god form, I’m the perfect specimen. My hair curls at my brow, my muscles bulge with superhuman strength. I’ve changed from my suit to my traditional chiton, with golden clasps holding white fabric over my chest and waist. My expensive dress shoes are replaced with sandals that lace up my calves. I have my bow and quiver at my shoulder, full of arrows meant to make one fall in love or strike them down.

  No diapers though. I hate that interpretation of Cupid. It’s just plain insulting.

  Logan stares at me in shock, his triumphant call at shooting me stuck in his throat. Max stares at me agape, like she can’t believe her eyes.

  I did tell her though, I want to say. I did tell her that I am Eros. Not that she believed me then.

  She does now. And this isn’t even my most powerful form. If a mortal were to ever see that, they’d disintegrate.

  “What the fuck are you?” Logan breathes.

  I round on him, flashing what I know is a dashing smile that makes him cower. “I’m the god who loves Maxine.”

  And I merely shove him. The man flies through the wall into the living room like he’d been hit by a wrecking ball. I’d almost forgotten how strong I am in my true form.

  I make a mental note to pay for the repairs later.

  I step through the wall, straightening to my full height. Somehow, Logan is still conscious and trying to scramble away from me. He looks up at me, terrified, like his whole world has shattered.

  All I can think about is how Max’s peace of mind has been shattered for years. He’s been terrorizing them for too long.

  “St—stay away from me!” he shouts, holding up a hand, as if it could stop me.

  I stop and bare my teeth at him. “Like Max told you to stay away from her? Like the court ordered you to stay away from her and her family?”

  “I—I—”

  I take him by the throat and easily lift him with one hand against the wall. His feet leave the floor. He gags, scrabbling at my hand holding him. My grip is like a vice, though, and I consider the possibility of never letting him go again.

  “You’re pathetic and use fear to get your way,” I tell him coolly. “You’re scum. You’re the reason why humans can’t govern themselves.”

  Logan’s eyes bulge, but I’m not done yet. I let another level of my power shine through, allowing a little of my glow to burn into his retinas and fry his addled brain. He struggles some more like a cornered beast.

  Yes, it’s scary what we gods are capable of. But what he wrought onto Max is even worse.

  I lean into Logan, and I whisper in his ear, “Logan Barber, may you never find happiness. May you never be in love with yourself or your situation. May you loathe yourself so much, you can’t even bring yourself to end it.”

  These aren’t idle threats. They’re promises. I’m telling the whole universe to ignore this mortal in front of me for the rest of his miserable life and into his eternity.

  His body goes limp in my hand. I toss him aside in disgust. He won’t hurt anyone now or ever again. When he wakes up, he’ll have gaps in his memory about what he saw. But I’ll be haunting his nightmares for years to come.

  He won’t be bothering Max anymore.

  I hear someone stumble in the rubble, and I look up to see Max staring at me. She holds onto the sides of the walls for support as she huffs, looking at me.

  I immediately put my mortal glamour back on, so as to not overpower her brain with my true form. I also use my magic to repair my destroyed shirt, so that it wouldn’t attract unwanted attention. The sudden
change and darkness in the living room make her blink multiple times as if she’s adjusting her eyes.

  “Are you okay?” I finally ask.

  A stupid question, since it’s obvious that she isn’t all right.

  “You…” Her voice trails off as she looks at me, shaking her head.

  “Gotham called me,” I say. “I came as fast as I could.”

  I feel the need to explain myself, to let her know that I wouldn’t come over to her house uninvited. After all, she had basically just broken up with me. I don’t want to betray her trust any more than I have. I don’t want her thinking that I come anywhere close to Logan’s level.

  “It’s true,” she whispers. “You’re…”

  I nod. “I am Eros.”

  A swirl of emotions flits across her face as she takes this in. She crosses her arms, considering everything. “So this whole thing…”

  I nod again. “Was to get me to fall in love with love again. And you helped me, Max.” I give a dry chuckle and comb my hand through my hair. “You’re the one who taught the god of love how to love. I’d nearly forgotten after everything that happened with Psyche.”

  “And Nadya—Psyche—” she corrects, trying out the different names on her lips.

  I shake my head. “Psyche actually pretended to be a whole bunch of my…mistakes. Before you, Max. Please.” I swallow back the lump in my throat. “Please believe me.”

  She only watches me.

  Sirens break us out of our stupor, and we both turn to look at the open front door. A sob escapes Max’s throat.

  “Dad!” she cries, ducking back into the kitchen to check on Hector.

  I follow and kneel beside her as she checks on her father’s condition. He’s still unconscious and has a huge knot on his head from where Logan struck him with the shotgun, but he’ll live.

  “Go check on Gotham,” I tell Max. “He’s in Hector’s room. I’ll make sure that the old man’s all right.”

  She meets my eyes before she glances at my lips, and then runs to bedroom, shouting her son’s name.

  I sigh and sit back as the police come into the kitchen. They have their pistols trained on me as they approach. “He’s in the living room, officers,” I say, gesturing with my head. “We’ll need some paramedics for him though,” I add, nodding to Hector, who groans.