I push open the door and walk into the next room.
I’m not sure what I expect. With a name like the Underworld, it could go a number of ways. Instead, it looks like any bar in some high-end spot. Booths line the walls, each tucked back into the dark gray walls and shrouded in shadows except for a single small stylized chandelier that hangs over each. They’re all different shapes and styles, but each is made of silver and has either glass or crystal pieces muting the light. It’s a startlingly classy effect considering I know what goes on in this place.
The rest of the floor is much better lit with the circular bar acting as the main attraction. It showcases a wide array of alcohol options that border a giant marble sculpture that’s… I blink. It’s almost abstract, but I’m certain that it’s depicting an orgy.
What catches and holds my attention is the man lounging against the bar, his black-on-black suit somehow making him look ever more distinguished than the last time I saw him.
Hades.
What the hell?
He arches a brow at me. “Don’t look so confused. You honestly think you can come to my front door and ask after Meg and I wouldn’t know about it?” He gives me that same half smile that’s haunted me for days. “I think we both know you’re smarter than that.”
Maybe I am.
Maybe I knew it would come down to seeing him again.
I don’t know. My stomach is twisting in on itself, a toxic combination of anger and self-righteousness and desire making it hard to think. I clear my throat. “I’d like to see her.”
“So intent on my Meg.” He motions and a tall, curvy Latina woman appears behind the bar, deposits two drinks, and moves away. There’s no one else in the room, so she must be trying to offer some privacy. Hades picks up the glass, and I can’t help noticing the elegance of his hands, the graceful way he moves. He crooks his finger. “I promise I won’t bite. Unless you ask nicely.”
My blood rushes to my cock, and I don’t fucking understand it. I should want to knock this guy out, but something about him has my instincts misfiring. There’s no fight or flight. It’s flight or fuck, and even in my current confusion, I know better than to play into the latter.
I should know better than to play into the latter.
Hades sighs. “Fine, I’ll take on the role of the bad guy. Either you sit, have a conversation with me, and I decide whether or not I want my Meg around you, or I call in Allecto and she escorts you out. It’s really that simple.”
I don’t know who this Allecto is, but I’m too focused on the first part of his sentence to worry about her. “Meg is a person, not a pet. You don’t get to decide who she does or doesn’t talk to.”
“Meg is both a person and a pet.” There goes that smile again, the one that seems to say he’s enjoying a private joke that I have no access to. “Sit, Hercules.”
My body snaps to attention, obeying the sharpness in his command before I can decide if I want to. I stride to him, and his smile widens. “What a good boy you are.” He tilts his head to the side, studying me in a way that makes me feel like he can see beneath my clothes. “I wonder… Would you kneel if I told you to?”
“No,” I snarl to cover up the truth. I’m not sure what I would do. I can almost feel the bite of the floor through my jeans. The weight of his hand on my head the same way he touched Meg that night. It makes my chest ache, and I don’t understand why.
Another of those shrugs that means everything and nothing at all. “I suppose we’ll find out.”
“I want to see Meg.”
He takes a sip of his drink and raises his eyebrows. Reluctantly, I pick up mine and do the same. It’s scotch. Very, very expensive scotch. I lick my lips, going still at the predatory way he watches the movement. “I want to see Meg,” I repeat.
“Yes, yes. All in good time.” He leans back against the bar. “Let’s be honest between the two of us, shall we? You don’t want to see Meg. You want a whole lot more than that.”
How can he know that when even I don’t know what I want? I take another drink to cover up my mixed responses. “Why do you think that?”
“I have many talents. Reading people is one of them. You, my dear boy, got your head spun around by Meg’s pussy. I can’t blame you. She’s divine, isn’t she?”
“Don’t talk about her that way.” Even if I dream about her pussy. Even if I wish I hadn’t dicked around the first fifteen minutes of our acquaintance so I got more time with her taste on my tongue. It’s more than that. He’s making it sound cheap and dirty.