Page 39 of Gilded Gods

I glance at Atlas. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, watching us with curiosity. His eyebrows raise an inch. He’s wondering if I’ll kiss his brother.

“I don’t know,” I tell Ares. “Do you really want a kiss from your stepsister?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” His grip tightens on my shirt, his lips inches from mine. “It’s good luck to get a kiss from a beautiful woman before a fight.”

“So if I don’t kiss you, you’ll turn around and kiss someone else?”

His lips brush mine. “You’re so stubborn, woman. Shut up and kiss me.”

I press my lips to his. As our tongues tangle, it feels like we’re fighting a war. We both know what we’re doing is fucked up.

Sick.

We shouldn’t have started this game. But after Ares left my room that night, I used the dirty memory to get myself off. I still dream about his rough touch when I’m alone.

“Ophelia.”

The front door slams.

Uncle Alexander.

Shit.

I shove my palms into Ares’s chest, knocking him backward and gasping for air. “Get out of here.”

Ares frowns. “You don’t like how I kiss you?”

“No, it’s not that,” I whisper. “I don’t want my uncle to see you practically naked when my hair is a mess from you running your fingers through it, and my lips probably look like they’ve just been kissed.” I wave my hand. “Go before he sees you.”

Ares groans. “Fine, but this isn’t over.”

“I’m in the kitchen,” I tell my uncle.

It’s been weird without Alexander at the club. He mostly stayed upstairs in the office with his friends while I slipped into the basement to cater to The O Club members. But it was nice having him around. Now Apollo has inserted himself into our business.

I haven’t seen my uncle since Dad’s engagement, which is odd. He usually stops by the house several times a week.

Are they fighting again?

My dad has a bad temper and so does my uncle. They’re brothers in name only. My grandparents adopted Alexander three months before getting pregnant with my dad.

Ares and Atlas approach the same door Alexander is entering. They should have used their heads and exited through the chef’s entrance that leads to the back staircase.

Dumbasses.

“Hello, my sweet girl,” Alexander says with a big ass smile when he sees me, ignoring Ares and Atlas.

My smile mirrors his. “Hey, yourself.”

Unlike my dad, my uncle is blond with blue eyes and doesn’t look like he has an ounce of Greek in him. Because he doesn’t. You would never know he’s the infamous Alexander Drakos. He’s clean-cut with a sharp jaw and wears suits like a knight does armor.

He slaps Ares on the back and grins. “Are you ready for the fight tonight, Champ?”

Ares glares at him, his top lip quivering as if he’s ready to attack. “Born ready.”

What am I missing here?

Ares’s whole demeanor changed when Alexander entered the kitchen. Atlas looks equally uncomfortable, with his eyes narrowed into slits at my uncle. They’re both seething mad at the sight of him.

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