Full Summary: Annabeth Chase, an impassive, though quite impressive woman who works underneath the tight-lipped rule of her father in the Athenian Owl Industries, is engaged to Percy Jackson, heir to Poseidon's Trident Industries, and notorious member of the Los Angelos Mafia, high in their ranks. There's no love in their relationship: one's too formal, and the other is too much of a dick. Annabeth perceives him to be a whore, though she secretly finds him quite entertaining and spirited, and Percy finds her to be a prude, though annoying her has it's benefits. These haters can't help but become physically attracted to one another, and before long, they both find themselves unable to stop touching the other. But before long, both Annabeth's and Percy's pasts catch up to them. Mysteries are uncovered, ties are severed, and maybe, just maybe, love can set into the equation. Or maybe lust will dominate.

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A BOYFRIEND WITH AN ADAMANT LIBIDO
[ edited ]
[ 4.19.17 ]
[ 2,862 words ]

ANNABETH CHASE DID NOT want to be the wife of a skilled Mafia assassin, however many luxuries the life brought along with it. Nope, nada, non. She was perfectly fine with the prim, orderly way her life was moving, and she didn't need the action-packed adventure that being the Mafia's wife would bring along with it.

And besides, she didn't like the sound of it either. The Mafia assassin's wife? That really just made it sound like she was a servant, or a slave, of the assassin, and the sexist quality of that opinion did not suit her well.

And she had a steady boyfriend as well - Luke Castellan was just the jock for her, and she was perfectly content with how things were going on between them.

Well, there was a bit of a lack of a connection in their relationship, since it was all touch and go, but Annabeth was fine with that. Just fine. She wasn't worried about him at all, nor about their relationship.

Luke Castellan wouldn't betray her for the World - would he? Sure, their relationship was purely based on physical touch, well, just recently, it had been mainly based on touch. Sex with him suited her just fine; sleeping with him wasn't something new to her. But there was no communication in their relationship anymore, and that, Annabeth had to admit, scared her the tiniest of bits. Three months ago, it had all been sweet kisses and flowers, and even boxes of candy. He had showered her with affection, and she could see it glimmering in his eyes every time he looked at her.

Now, not so much. It was all lust. Either he had recently attained an adamant libido, (which Annabeth didn't mind, it was just that he was going at it more than usual), or there was something else going on, something he hadn't mentioned to Annabeth.

Annabeth had a bad feeling that it was the second one, but she pushed away that feeling, and told herself that Luke had decided to focus on her body, and his body, and their bodies. But if she were to be honest, when they went at it, it didn't feel like he was making love to her. It felt like he was using her as a toy, a sexual trinket to release all that pent up stress and anxiousness, and he was channeling all that stress into his, erm, manly parts, and using her as the release of it.

Annabeth preferred not to think of it that way. She endorsed the idea that he had started to obsess over her body, even though that fact that if that were true, he might have started to obsess a little too much entered her mind. She ignored that little voice.

But Luke - no, it wouldn't do any good to think about to Luke. A new man might possibly be entering her carefully arranged life, a man who would bring the most luxurious of riches, and the most dangerous of adventures. A man whom she had no choice but to marry.

When her parents had told her, she hadn't put up a fight. Since the beginning of her teenage years, she had never been a rebellious figure, unlike almost every other teenager in her whole school. No partying? Okay, mother. No drinking? Okay, mother. No boys until she was old enough? Okay, father. No sex until her wedding night? Of course, father.

She only first started to break them when she met Luke, but that was fair, because he was the first boy in her life, and she met him precisely when she was seventeen years, half a month, and seven days. Their first night together was when she was exactly seventeen years, eleven months, and nineteen days. Yeah, she kept track. She was a perfectionist, and that was a quality in her that she was very much proud of.

A perfectionist, who, apparently, had a knack for writing the precise dates of everything down, which she thought made her life a whole lot more orderly. And that knack for writing everything down was exactly how she knew exactly how old she was and exactly what day she met Luke, exactly what day, time, and what precise age she was when she had first started dating him, and when she slept with him. She was quite the perfectionist, she had to admit, but she didn't mind. She liked it that way. She liked that thing about herself. Why, she couldn't exactly explain but-

Oh, goddammit, she shouldn't be thinking about how she approved of herself being a perfectionist. She was supposed to be pondering over whether she wanted to or didn't want to marry the so called glorious assassin what's-his-face. Yeah, about that. She really didn't give a damn about him. She had heard from some other girls in school when she was still back there, girls who liked to squeal over men who they couldn't possibly have a chance with because they didn't even know them, that said assassin was in his early twenties, quite single, and very much a looker.

Those weren't quite the words that they had used, but Annabeth preferred not thinking about the words they had used. She might have to erase her memory to get rid of the vulgarity of their words.

But the point was that he was decent looking, according to what Annabeth had heard. But she didn't want just a hot husband. She wanted someone whom she could just plainly settle down with, and do her business proceedings with, without having to suspect him. That was the kind of person she wanted to be married to. But judging from the way this man was described, he most probably took advantage of his good looks. He didn't want to settle down, he wanted to fuck around.

Annabeth knew for sure, and her laptop had all the evidence she needed. Thousands of suggestions came up with she searched up his name: 'Perseus Orion Jackson'.

Percy Jackson & McKenzie Normest: Scandal Or No Scandal?

So, the shortened version of his name was Percy? Interesting.

Percy Jackson Going Behind Ayonne Charfel's Back? Percy Jackson Is Officially Dating His Ex-Girlfriend's Best Friend: True Or Not True? Percy Jackson Engaged? Percy Jackson Gay? Percy Jackson Accused Of Murder? Percy Jackson Cleared Of Charges.

All that Percy Jackson this, and Percy Jackson that, made Annabeth's mind whirl. He had had quite a few affairs, which proved him to be what Annabeth thought him to be: a whore, a playboy, hell, maybe even a fuckboy. If that was how he was before, and how he still was now, how would he be when he was married to Annabeth? Would he go behind her back?

But revolting scandals aside, one very recent title caught Annabeth's eye: "Percy Jackson A New York Mafia Mobster?"

Annabeth sat back, and let the laptop drop from her lap down to her bed, where it bounced, and fell with it's screen resting on the bed's surface and the keyboard in the air. She stared at it. "Percy Jackson A New York Mafia Mobster?" "Percy Jackson A New York Mafia Mobster?" "Percy Jackson A New York Mafia Mobster?"

What the hell did that mean? Wasn't it a known fact that he was a member of the Los Angelos and New York Mafia? Wasn't this old news? Very old news? Didn't the world already know? How was this fucking recent? This wasn't frigging possible.

Annabeth racked her brain, and when it settled on something, she almost cursed herself silly. Of course it wasn't a public fact. Why had she assumed that the rest of the World knew that he was a gang member, just because she knew? If they knew, he'd be a wanted criminal. They'd have caught him, convicted him of all the murders he had committed - and he had committed murders, many of them, way too many to count - and he wouldn't be this famous. He wouldn't be all over the tabloids in the fashion they portrayed him now.

He would be a badass, he would be wanted, he would be a criminal. But in the tabloids and magazines, they portrayed him as some kind of celebrity. Why was that?

Upon searching a little bit deeper into the internet, Annabeth found her answer: Percy Jackson was the heir to Poseidon's Trident Industries, as well as the son of the owner, Poseidon Olympus. He was the heir, and he would be taking the business from his father.

Suddenly, some of the missing puzzle pieces of the puzzle fit. A part of this arrangement was beneficial to both sides: the company investment. Annabeth's dad owned a company, along with her step-mother, a company that had been passed on from her biological mother. The Athenian Owls Industries. Owner was unidentified, meaning that Annabeth didn't know who it was, though some others, including her father, would probably know. Of course he'd know the name of the woman he'd screwed around with and had a kid with. He just wouldn't tell Annabeth her name, which infuriated Annabeth, but she'd never admit to it. Why should she?

But this Percy guy - did he agree to this arrangement as well?

She couldn't see someone like him giving into marrying - hell, dating was one thing, but marrying? - when he could have so many others. If he weren't married to her, he could bring any woman, and any number of woman into his bed. He probably would too when he was married to her. As far as she knew, she had no choice, and neither did he.

Annabeth wondered; what kind of person was he? Was he that scandalous, egotistical man the world perceived him to be? Or was there more to his story? Why had he decided to become a part of the Mafia? What had impacted his life so hard, that he had to resort to killing people? What had happened to him?

Annabeth had many questions, and she was frustrated to find that none of them could be answered.

"Helen?" Annabeth started out stiffly, her eyes concentrated on her stepmother's navy blue blazer. Helen's chocolate brown hair was curled up into a tight bun, and when she turned around, the streaks of the red highlights she had put in could be seen. Her light blue eyes surveyed Annabeth critically and impassively, and Annabeth stood to attention, meeting her gaze.

"Yes, Annabeth?" Her voice was cool and careless, and for a moment, Annabeth forgot what she had wanted to say. It was ironic, really. She herself was the one who usually gazed at people so emotionlessly that it made them uncomfortable, but here she was, made uncomfortable by her stepmother, no less. Not even her biological mother.

"I wanted some details regarding my engagement with Poseidon's son."Apparently losing interest in the conversation with those words being said, her stepmother turned back around, and busied herself with looking through her suitcase.

"What would you like to know?" Her stepmother's voice was all business, and Annabeth resisted the urge to cringe. Was this how she herself sounded like, when talking business?

"When will we be married? And do I still have no say in this?" Multiple questions ran through Annabeth's head, but she chose only two of them, and carefully so. Her composure had to be kept at both work and at home, and losing her cool by asking a steady stream of questions wouldn't elevate her stepmother's and her father's thoughts of her.

The first wave of faint suspicion hit her when her stepmother stiffened momentarily.

"By tomorrow or the day after - it hasn't been made final yet - you and your father will meet up with your fiance and his father, and there, he will propose to you, first in private so you will both have an idea of what to expect when he does, and in public, so the public can acknowledge it. Merely - " Here, her stepmother's emotionless voice was smothered with pity, and Annabeth stared into her eyes, her expression stone cold, not knowing what to think. Maybe she had imagined it? Either way, she did not like that pity one bit.

" - a week later, you two will be wed. The place has not been finalized, but I assure you, we will look for the most fanciest place we can find, no matter what the cost. Then - " She didn't want the most fanciest of places. What did they think she wanted? She - she - she was getting married in one fucking week! Today was Tuesday, meaning either tomorrow, or the day after, she would meet the whore who was to be her husband. A week from that - either next Wednesday, or Thursday, would be her wedding. Did they not think the public would get suspicious at their hastiness to send their daughter off to get married so quick? And with no warning either? And what about her? What about her?

" - then, oh wait. Of course, you and your future husband to be will be meeting up an infinite number of times to discuss everything; arrange everything. You will choose the dress, the wedding, the flowers, and etc. You will be wed next week, as I have mentioned, and after that, you two will both be required to go on a honeymoon for quite a while. Longer than most couples, really. You will also be required to have some form of sexual interaction, because we will be expecting a child from the two of you, to fully fulfill our agreement with the groom's family. Whether it is mandatory or not is to be questioned. I hope you are aware - " She continued, and Annabeth was lost in a haze of confusion. A child? A child? Sexual interaction? She was to sleep with this whore?

" - that the child has to be with his sperm and your egg, nobody else's. We will be checking to see as soon as we can to make sure it is specifically you and your husband's child, and no one else's, if you two do end up having a child. Note that there will be consequences if it is another's child, and I imagine, that if you two start off to a rocky start, you will both have to face much more if you don't agree to this willingly, and don't play by our rules. And you especially, Annabeth - you will have to break it off with Luke Castellan sometime before the wedding." Her stepmother paused.

She angled herself so half of her was facing Annabeth directly, and the other half was facing her suitcase.

"I wish you the best of luck, Annabeth." She turned around completely now, the suitcase taking up all of her attention, and stood with her back facing Annabeth, who suddenly had the urge to scream and thrash and put up one hell of a tantrum.

But she couldn't, because, after all, she was the CEO's daughter, who worked in the same building as her father. She was famous; she was a celebrity. She was known. Articles, thousands of thousands of articles, had her name printed neatly anywhere that concerned her.

And soon, millions of articles would have her name printed even more neatly, in shockingly big, black letters; printed right next to the famous man that she had no choice but to marry: Perseus Orion Jackson.

The man whom she had labeled as a whore, and her rage was such, that it didn't occur to her that she was being extremely judgemental. The man who she would have to share a bed with, a responsibility with, and a life with. The man who might father her child. The man who could never be what she had always wanted.