Annabeth's POV
"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," I muttered to myself as I opened the door to my suite and pushed it shut behind me. I didn't have time to take in the immaculate room or the platter of fresh fruit and chocolate that had been left on the bar—I was too busy freaking the fuck out.
Percy Jackson had just kissed me. My boss's brother—technically, my boss—had just kissed me. I was a cliche. That's what it was: I was the idiotic young woman who landed her dream job and then screwed it all up by nailing her boss.
I sunk to the floor, my back still against the door. I had one job, to kill this weekend trip, to be the best surrogate for Nico I could be. And what did I do? I made out with his brother.
Anyway I thought about it, it wasn't getting better. I'd fucked up. Royally, wholly, and without question.
Just then, I felt my phone vibrate through my purse.
Dad: Hi Petal.
Dad: How's Tuscany?
Dad: Make sure you take enough photographs so I can see everything you're experiencing!
Dad: And bring some wine home!
Dad: But only the good stuff. Please.
Dad: Enjoy ;)
"Hi, Petal," I heard from the other end. He was somewhere crowded—I could hear a bunch of different voices in the background.
"Hi, Dad!" I exclaimed, trying to hide the anxiety in my voice. "Where are you?"
"I'm visiting Mom at the home. How's Italy? Why are you calling me? Shouldn't you be out on some adventure?"
I grimaced, trying to forget about my so-called adventure. "Just wanted to check in!"
"Well, check out," he instructed. "Tuscany's waiting for you, my girl."
"Bossy as usual."
"Ha! Coming from you, my Petal, that's gold!"
I couldn't help but smile. My dad and I were two sides of the same stubborn, know-it-all coin. "Did you hang up yet?" he asked.
"No."
"Want to speak to Mom?"
I thought about it for a second. About talking to my Mom, the woman who'd been my best friend for so much of my life. But it wouldn't really be talking to Mom—it'd be talking to the later stages of Alzheimer's that had wiped most of her away.
"That's okay. I better run."
"Now, you're talking. And listen when I tell you, Petal, if you don't bring me back a good bottle, you're disowned. Do you hear me?"
I laughed. "I heard you, Dad."
"Good. Love you!"
"Love you more," I said, hanging up. I clunked the back of my head against the hard door behind me, letting it rest against it.
It was evening now, and I didn't have any responsibilities until first things tomorrow.
It was my first time in Tuscany. Hell, it was my first time in Italy. I couldn't either sulk like some poor maiden who was too prude to get over one kiss, or I could make the best of my all-expenses-paid trip to fucking Florence and get myself a goddamn drink.
I took a breath and then stood up, newly energized. I unzipped my pencil skirt and unbuttoned my blouse, fishing around in my suitcase for a more Tuscany-appropriate outfit.
I picked up a flowy tunic out and slipped it on, checking myself out in the full-length mirror. It stopped mid-thigh and made my thighs look long as hell, and the soft rose color made my skin glow. It would do.
I grabbed my purse off the floor and opened the door, heading straight for the elevator.
When I got to the lobby, the same bellboy who greeted us earlier hurried over to me. "Buona sera," he greeted. "Good evening, Miss. Can I help you with something?"
I nodded at him. "The bar?"
He pointed me down a hallway to the left, and thanked him, walking through it until I reached a massive oak door. I pulled it open, and my breath caught in my throat—the bar was all dark wood and glistening candles. It was beautiful.
And then I saw him. Sitting by himself at the bar in a crisp white linen shirt. I ogled him shamelessly for a second, taking in the way his broad shoulders were hunched forward, elbows on the bar, allowing his biceps to strain against the shirt's fabric.
"Scusi." The hostess approached me, interrupting my ogling. "Can I help you?"
"Oh, I'll just…just sit at the bar," I responded. I had no choice but to walk over to him—it would've been rude to sit somewhere else. And besides, I wasn't some immature teenager. It was just some kiss. We could still be civil.
"Hi," I said when I was standing next to him. I was going to say more, but then he turned to face me, and I fell silent. I felt my cheeks burn.
"Hi," he said back.
"I just came to…well, to drink," I stammered. Jesus.
"Well, I can vouch for this as the place to come to drink around here," he replied without a trace of irony. "Please, sit," he said, reaching to pull the barstool out for me. But he missed it by a few inches. Without thinking, I grabbed his hand and guided it to the stool.
He looked at me, surprised, and then pulled it out.
I sat down, and the bartender came over immediately. "La signorina?" he asked.
"I'll have a glass of white. Whatever you recommend," I told him.
"Make it two." Percy added. He downed the last of his wine glass, and the bartender took it away. Then, he turned back to me. "You know, any other girl would've just pulled the stool out herself."
"I think by now you know me well enough to know I'm not like other girls," I replied, and then chided myself. What are you doing? Flirting?
"Yes, that has become very clear."
The bartender brought two new glasses and opened a bottle in front of us. "This is the Vernaccia. It is a house favorite," he said, pouring us each a taste.
Percy brought the glass to his lips, and I did the same. When the liquid entered my mouth, I was blown away with how smooth it was. The flavor was like a soft caress down my throat.
"It's lovely," I told the bartender.
"Lovely," Percy echoed. When the bartender walked away, he started a new train of thought. "You know, I've been thinking about what you said earlier."
"Which part?" I asked, taking a bigger sip of wine.
"The doing things for myself, enjoying life part. You're right. I can't let the unknown keep me from enjoying the present."
That's the spirit."
"It's been a while since I've done anything for myself, really. When I'm home, my focus is on Thalia. Or on doing whatever I can to keep her, to build the custody case and all that. It's so goddamn time consuming."
"What do you miss most?" I asked him, genuinely curious.
He whipped his eyes back to me, giving me a look that said, you are opening a can of worms. Maybe it was being out of town in a beautiful hotel, or maybe it was the warmth of the wine running through my system, but in that moment I didn't care. Let the can open.
"Come one," I pressed him. "What's the one thing you think about before Thalia—before any of this?"
He pressed his lips together tightly, and then relaxed them. "You really want to know?"
"I really want to know."
"Having a sub," he said, like it was the same thing as having a dog. I thought I'd misheard him.
"Having a what?"
"A sub. You know, a submissive.'
Blood rushed to my cheeks, and I could feel the hairs standing up on the back of my neck.
He just said submissive. The man I kissed, my sort-of boss, just said HE MISSED HAVING A SUBMISSIVE!
"Uh," I got out, not knowing how to respond. "That's…"
"Not what you were expecting," he said with a chuckle. "That's okay. The lifestyle is kind of hard to wrap your head around at first, but when you're in it, living it, damn," he explained, and the way he said the last word made me even more aroused.
I imagined what I'd feel like to have him say damn like that about me.
Stop it, Annabeth.
"So, you're…a dominant?"
"That's right. Are you surprised?"
I took in his powerful demeanor, his easy self-assurance. "No," I responded. "Not at all. I just couldn't imagine being a submissive. To anyone," I said.
"I wasn't asking you to be," he said, with a laugh.
Immediately, my cheeks turn even redder. "I didn't mean—I wasn't saying…"
"Relax," he said, still laughing. "But being a sub, just so you know, it's not about relinquishing control. It's not about losing who you are because someone tells you to. It's actually kind of the opposite."
"That's gonna need more of an explanation," I said, taking another huge gulp of wine.
"Being a sub is about pleasing you dom. It's about doing things you know he'll like, because you want him to enjoy himself—because when he enjoys himself, you do too."
I felt a pang of arousal hit me right between my legs. It was like Percy was speaking directly to my inner psyche; I was nothing if not a people pleaser. I iced to be validated for a job well done. Nothing brought me more joy than that.
"I see."
"The whole premise of the dom-sub dynamic, Annie, is the balance of respect and mutual satisfaction. If that premise isn't there, the dynamic's no good."
"Mm," I responded, drinking the last of my wine. I crossed my legs, trying to hide just how turned-on I was by this conversation. And then, I remembered the last time I was this aroused near Percy, he'd smelled it.
That made me even wetter.
"Let's get you another glass,' he said to me, putting a hand on my bare thigh. The touch alone was enough to drive me into a pleasure-fueled spirit.
"No, that's okay. That's really okay," I said, climbing off my stool and grabbing my purse. "I think it's time for me to go to bed—you know, early morning tomorrow and all," I stammered.
I turned to leave, but I felt his hand reach out and grab my arm. And then, he was standing up, directly behind me. His hot breath was on the back of my neck, and I could feel my body leaning back leaning back into him like there was sort of magnetic pull.
"Let me walk you to the elevator," he breathed into my ear.
I couldn't muster anything beyond a nod.
We walked out of the bar, his hand still holding my arm. There was hardly any space between us at all. By the time we were through the lobby and the elevator bank, my heart was beating out of my chest.
Sub. Dom. Pleasing your dom. Pleasing yourself.
The words were reeling through my mind, and my body was reacting.
Hard.
We stopped in front of the elevator, and I pressed the up button. The doors opened almost instantaneously—but Percy pulled me back. Directly into him. We were chest-to-chest, and he gazed at me, his eyes sparkling even though I knew he couldn't see much.
He lowered his mouth until it was almost touching my lips. "I lied before," he whispered. "I was asking you to."
"You were asking me to what?" I murmured back, dizzy from desire.
"To be my sub." He held me close like that, not quite kissing me, not quite letting me go, for another moment. The sexual tension, the proximity…it was all too much for me. I was going to explode.
And then, Percy Jackson did the unexpected.
He let me go.
"Good night, mio piccolo topo," he said, as he walked into the elevator—leaving me alone in a Tuscan hotel lobby, with the proposition of a lifetime still hanging in the air.
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