A Touch of Ruin (Hades & Persephone #2) - Scarlett St. Clair Page 0,77
about you?”
The woman shrugged. “It’s good money, and most of the time these men aren’t even after sex. They just want conversation.”
Well that was good, because that’s all Persephone had come for—conversation and a bargain.
The woman in crimson returned and clapped her hands, drawing everyone’s attention.
“It’s time, ladies and gentlemen.”
Persephone followed Ismena’s lead. They filed into an adjacent room were a series of chairs were arranged. As they entered, they were given numbers and took their seats. One by one, the Madame summoned men and women, and as they disappeared into the darkness around her, Persephone’s heart raced. She wondered what Hades would do if he found out she was about to auction herself off to the highest bidder in a brothel.
Then another thought occurred to her—what if she couldn’t find Apollo?
She waited forever—until everyone in the room was gone except for her.
The Madam entered.
“Your turn, Kora.”
Persephone rose and followed the woman into the shadow. She was directed onto a round stage. She could see nothing beyond it, but she knew people were scattered in the dark beyond because she could sense them. A torrent of emotions hit her—intense loneliness and longing, beneath that, there was a tinge of amusement. She looked up into the darkness and offered a soft half smile.
“I’m here for you, Apollo.”
The madam appeared from the shadow, as quick as lightning, and snatched her by the wrist.
“How dare you! This auction is supposed to be anonymous.”
A voice crackled through an intercom.
“Don’t leave a bruise, Madam Selene, or you will face the wrath of Hades.”
So much for anonymity.
The woman inhaled sharply and released her; eyes wide.
“You are Persephone?”
Apollo’s voice crackled over the intercom again.
“Escort her to my suite.”
Persephone turned to the Madam expectantly. It took her a moment to move, she seemed frozen, staring at her as if she were one of the dead herself. After a moment, she cleared her throat and bowed her head.
“This way, my lady.”
The Madam led Persephone out of the room and into a mirrored elevator. When the doors closed, Madame Selene stared at Persephone through the reflection.
“Why did you let me treat you like one of my girls?”
Persephone shrugged. “I was curious. Don’t worry, if everyone in attendance tonight keeps my secret, I’ll ensure Hades never finds out that you laid a hand on me. Understood?”
“Of course.”
Madame Selene pulled out a key and inserted it into the panel, pressing the button for the third floor. They were silent until the Madame asked, “Are you here to bargain with him?”
Persephone’s heart raced. “Why would I bargain with Apollo?”
“Because you’re desperate.”
Persephone stared at the woman.
“I see desperation every day, my love. If you’re seeking an end to it, trust me, Apollo’s not the answer.”
Persephone clenched her jaw. “Remember my promise earlier, Madame? You’d do well to stay quiet.”
The woman offered a half smile and Persephone thought it hinted at her wickedness. “Apologies, my lady.”
The elevator came to a halt, and Persephone stepped into a well-furnished and luxurious living room. The place was covered in rich fabrics, textured rugs, and fine artwork.
Persephone felt on edge as she moved into the space, thinking that the God of Music might appear out of thin air just to scare her, but as she rounded the sitting area, she found Apollo in an adjacent room. He was naked, relaxing in a giant bath. When he saw her, the god stretched out, resting his feet and draping his arms over the edge of the bath.
“Ah, Lady Persephone,” he said. “A true pleasure.”
“Apollo,” she acknowledged.
“Come, join me!”
“Did you not just warn Madame Selene of Hades’ wrath? He will cut your balls off and feed them to you if you touch me.”
Apollo chuckled, as if he thoroughly enjoyed the visual Persephone had just given him.
“Would you deny me what I am due? I bought and paid for you, after all.”
“Then that is your loss,” she replied.
Apollo chuckled, narrowing those inky violet eyes.
Suddenly, the elevator doors opened again, and three nymphs entered the room. They were dressed in shimmery slips. One carried a bowl, the other a tray of various bottles, and the last a stack of towels.
“Put the oils in the bath. I have waited long enough,” Apollo snapped as they approached.
The nymph with the tray didn’t seem at all anxious by the god’s rudeness. Her movements were unhurried and precise. She sat the tray down, chose a bottle, and measured the oil with the cap. When that nymph was finished, the other scattered rose petals into Apollo’s bath, and the