and he believed in a world order that was anathema to me.
I hoped that Cyrus just happened to be passing by, his presence nothing but a coincidence. Too bad I don’t believe in coincidence.
Cyrus finished crossing the street, obviously not caring about the indignant drivers who were honking at him. He smiled and waved at me through the window and made a beeline for the bistro’s door. So much for my plans for a quiet, uncomplicated lunch.
Either assuming he was welcome or not caring if he wasn’t, Cyrus plunked himself down on the seat across from me.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked with a charming smile.
“If I told you I minded, would you leave?”
Why I bothered to ask the question, I don’t know. Cyrus gave me a mock-reproachful look and helped himself to my menu. I considered getting up and walking away, but as I said, Cyrus is likable enough, and I harbored more than my fair share of curiosity about him. For one thing, I knew he and Steph’s . . . Well, I didn’t quite know what to call Blake. Boyfriend, I guess, although as far as I knew, they weren’t sleeping together. Blake, being a descendant of Eros, is apparently such a supernaturally good lover that any woman he sleeps with more than once will never be satisfied with another man. Anyway, it seemed that Blake’s unfortunate ability didn’t have the same effect on men, so he and Cyrus had hooked up in the past. Having seen the two of them interact before, I wasn’t sure how mutual—or how permanent—the breakup had been. Blake had described their former relationship as “friends with benefits,” but I suspected there was more to it than that. If there was any chance Cyrus would play a continuing role in Blake’s life, Steph had a right to know, and I figured I could try to work in a pointed question or two.
The waitress came over to take our orders. I guessed Cyrus was staying for lunch, since he ordered a croque monsieur, which is a fancy name for a grilled ham and cheese sandwich. I’d gone for a light soup-and-salad combo, resisting the temptation of all that butter and cheese. I felt virtuous and deprived at the same time.
“So to what do I owe the dubious pleasure of your company?” I inquired as soon as the waitress had retreated.
“Dubious pleasure?” He put a hand on his chest as if it hurt. “Why, you wound me.” He’d have looked a lot more wounded without the glint of humor in his eyes.
If he weren’t the leader of a bunch of rapists and murderers, I might have let myself relax and be charmed. I certainly liked his pleasant, easygoing demeanor a lot better than I’d liked that of any other Olympian I’d met. Which made it even more imperative that I keep reminding myself what he was. It would be easy to become unguarded with him, and that would be a very bad mistake.
“Look, I’m not making a big scene here because I refuse to let you chase me out of my favorite restaurant and because I know I can’t get you to leave. That doesn’t mean we’re friends, and that doesn’t mean I actually want you here.”
Cyrus’s grin faded, but there was no hint that my admittedly rude pronouncement had annoyed him.
“Sorry,” he said, and he sounded like he actually meant it. “I’m a dyed-in-the-wool wiseass and I couldn’t resist teasing you. But that was overly familiar of me.”
Yes, it was. But his admission made me like him better.
“I know we’re not friends,” he continued, “and considering our . . . differences, I don’t suppose we ever will be. But that doesn’t mean we have to be enemies.”
I frowned at that. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at. Assuming you’re actually getting at something.”
“You’re ruining my soliloquy,” he said in mock annoyance, then shook his head and made a face. “I told you, dyed-in-the-wool. I’ll just issue a blanket apology now and hope it’ll cover our entire conversation. Konstantin did his best to beat the wiseassery out of me when I was growing up, but it never took.”
It was no surprise to hear that Konstantin physically abused his kid. From what Anderson had told me, Cyrus was Konstantin’s only surviving child, but there had been others. Others he’d distrusted so much he’d killed them. I’d spent a lot of years in foster homes, and yet I bet I’d had a better, happier childhood