Page 33 of Loved By Aphrodite

“Yeah,” she said softly, her gaze fixed on the pot.

They worked in companionable silence, the familiarity of the moment settling over them. Every now and then, their hands would touch as they reached for the same utensil or ingredient, and each time, Aphrodite felt her pulse quicken.

By the time the cooking was finished, she glanced at him as they plated the food, catching a flicker of warmth in his expression that made her chest tighten. “I guess we still make a good team.”

He looked at her, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small, genuine smile. “Yeah. We do.”

Dinner had been unexpectedly delightful. The food was excellent, the wine rich and smooth, and the initial tension between them began to dissolve as the conversation turned light and easy. She found herself smiling more than she had in days, and even Hephaestus seemed more at ease, his laughter coming more freely than usual.

As they finished the last sips of wine, a strange sensation jolted through her chair. Before she could react, she was pushed to her feet. “What is—” she started, but her words trailed off as a soft melody began to play.

She looked over at Hephaestus, who was already on his feet, his chair nudging him forward like an impatient child.

Their eyes met, and she raised a brow. “Is this house serious?”

He chuckled. “Seems like it.” His gaze softened, and a rare, playful grin spread across his face. “So, do you want to dance?”

She blinked, momentarily thrown off by how different he seemed. He looked…relaxed, lighter than she’d seen him in ages. Something about it tugged at her. Without thinking too much, she slipped her hand into his. “Alright, let’s dance.”

He held her close, one hand resting on her waist as the other held hers. The dinner table vanished, replaced by a soft glow of candles that lined the walls, casting flickering shadows.

She glanced around and let out a huff of mock indignation. “Damn, I wanted a bit more of the food.”

Hephaestus grinned, a sparkle of amusement lighting his eyes. “Yeah, it was pretty good.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “This house is way too dramatic for its own good.”

“Maybe it knows something we don’t,” he murmured, his gaze dipping to meet hers.

They moved slowly, swaying to the gentle rhythm of the music. She let herself relax, her head resting lightly on his shoulder as they turned in small circles. The flicker of candlelight painted warmth across his features, and she felt an odd sense of comfort and nostalgia as if they’d done this a hundred times before.

She looked up at him, catching the way the warm candlelight softened his features. “What do you think is happening here?”

He glanced around, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “I wish I could tell you. But since we’re stuck in this room, it’s not like we can search the house for clues. Whatever this is, it wants us right here.”

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” she tilted her head, studying him. “No frustration? No attempts to tear the place apart?”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “Would it help if I said I’m used to unpredictability? Besides, it’s not so bad.”

“Not so bad?” she echoed, one brow arching in mock disbelief.

Hephaestus’s hand on her waist tightened slightly, a grin tugging at his lips. “I mean, good music, candles, dancing…could be worse.”

She felt her heart skip a beat, and she cursed herself for the warmth creeping up her neck. She rolled her eyes, trying to cover her reaction. “You’re ridiculous.”

His grin widened. “Maybe. But you’re still here, dancing with me.”

She opened her mouth to respond but was momentarily at a loss. The music swelled around them, and after a beat, she looked at him again. “Do you think this is connected to why the sirens sent us here?”

He hesitated, his expression turning more serious. “I don’t know. But if the house wanted us to focus on something else, it’s doing a good job of it.”

She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “We can’t just stay here and?—”

“And what?” He cut in gently, his gaze steady on hers. “Sometimes, the only way forward is to stop fighting and just let things happen.”

She stared at him for a long moment. The idea of letting go felt foreign, almost impossible—but she had to admit standingthere, swaying to the music, with his steady presence grounding her, it didn’t feel so bad.

“Fine,” she said at last and waited until he looked at her. “But if this house starts throwing more surprises at us, don’t expect me to handle it quietly.”

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