the biggest of thank you's to everyshadedsilver who beta read this for me.
Summary
Annabeth Chase is just a 25 year old waitress trying desperately to pay her next bill and take proper care of her 13 year old younger brother. Life for her is simple, and as much as she tries to convince her otherwise, she doesn't like it that way.
Perseus "Percy" Jackson is a prominent 27 year old businessman who will do anything to inherit what was promised to him. But getting that inheritance has proved to be a lot more difficult than he'd anticipated.
With the deadline looming over his horizon, how far is he willing to go to get what's his? How far is Annabeth willing to go to provide her brother the childhood he deserves?
An engagement contract seems a simple enough answer to their problems, but is it? And as Annabeth is drawn further and further into Percy's world, how long until she uncovers the truth behind his family's wealth?
Annabeth
.
Annabeth finds herself reeling as she desperately attempts to process what she had just heard.
She's being offered to marry a man she had barely met a few hours ago.
A man who's made her nervous for reasons unknown on multiple accounts.
A man whose name she does not know.
A man who, so far, puts her at unease.
Think of the money, she assures herself. Harley needs it. You might as well agree to the contract.
"If you could please stop staring at the door with your mouth open, Ms. Chase. I'd like to get this show on the road and I would very much prefer if you weren't catching flies." The deep timbre of the man's voice shatters her thoughts, disorganizing her train of thought.
Annabeth turns to see that the man had stood. Now that they are side by side, she registers just how tall he is, or rather, just how short she is. Poseidon Jackson's (assumed) son towers over her, his broad shoulders measuring up to the crown of her head. He straightens the expensive-looking silver watch on his wrist and looks down at her, his tempestuous sea-green eyes piercing her soul.
The waitress decides to ignore his rudeness. She tugs on the end of one of her waves and cranes her neck to look up at him, cocking her head slightly to the side. "What are you going on about?"
Rather than answer her question, he holds out his hand. Annabeth's gaze falls to it. "My name is Perseus Jackson," he says. His words are empty and cold, and the way that his voice vibrates in his chest reminds her of the gentle hum of a machine.
He's like machinery… cold, rumbling, emotionless. Driven by duty and nothing else.
Annabeth grasps his hand as firm as she can, refusing to acknowledge the fact that her palm is nearly completely swallowed by his own. She's startled at the heat that envelops her hand, expecting his skin to be as cold as his voice.
The 25-year-old woman then withdraws and narrows her eyes at him. "Are you going to answer my question, Perseus?"
He chuckles emptily, the vibration of the sound rumbling in his chest. Annabeth finds herself swallowing thickly as he continues. "Do you want to know the reason why you're to be engaged to me, Ms. Chase?" His lips flicker up into a dangerous smirk before passiveness overtakes his expression.
"I'd rather be called Annabeth." Her response is instant. Then, as an afterthought, "And yes, I would like to know."
"Well then, Annabeth," He corrects himself. His Italian accent rears its head as the name rolls off his tongue, and she forces herself to tear her gaze away from his intense stare. When the businessman continues speaking, she can feel his heated attention rolling over her body. If her skin were any lighter, her face would be red. "My grandfather- the current owner of Atlantis Consolidated- left me this company and a rather large fortune in his will. But in order for me to actually obtain that money, I have to married- or at least engaged."
Her arms tighten into a fold across her chest. Annabeth turns back to him, meeting his eyes head-on. "So why do you need me? What's in this for me?" Her tone borders on desperation and she forces herself to reel it in a little. "What purpose do you and your father have for choosing a random middle-class waitress?" She pauses for a second before mulling it over. "Why don't you just get engaged to some model or whatever and leave me out of it?"
Perseus runs a hand through his hair in slight exasperation, not that it makes it look any worse. Annabeth swears that the Italian-speaking man before her could be dressed in absolute shit and still look like a god.
Or at least a celebrity.
"Because you were the only option, Annabeth." He insists.
That triggers an eyebrow raise. The 25-year-old feels her eyes narrow. "Really? The only option? I'm sure that some woman would be-"
Perseus cuts her sentence in two, his voice thundering out of his chest with an air of power yet lacking high volume. His words are tense. "Yes, you were the only option, Ms. Chase. Believe me on that one."
"My name's Annabeth." She takes a step backward, both of her eyebrows lifting this time. "And believe you? I don't know you." She deadpans.
His deep green eyes brighten to an iron-gray as he advances slightly. Annabeth swallows again when an eyebrow cocks upward and a corner of his lips tugs slightly into a cold smile. "You will."
The way that he states it... as if it is a promise… her chest can only heave as she takes another step backward.
Perseus notices the movement and chuckles again, but this time the sound of amusement is clearly there and it's dark. He licks his lips and gestures to the door. "Let me escort you home, Annabeth. Please."
If the look in his eyes hadn't been there, she might have snorted. But it is there, and so she doesn't. Instead, Annabeth thinks of her tiny apartment on the other side of town, the part that he would probably refer to as a third world country. Despite herself, shame flutters in her stomach. "I'm capable of getting home on my own, thank you very much."
Annabeth then turns to leave but halts her movements when she hears him crossing over to her. Perseus stops just a few inches away, close enough that she can feel slivers of the heat that emanates from his body in waves.
She glances at him through the corner of her eye, hating the fact that he's making her feel like cornered prey. Hating it especially since she has all the room in the world to walk out the door and hurry home.
But even so, Annabeth stills and waits.
Why?
She isn't sure.
He stares back down at her, the greyness in his irises gone, leaving nothing but a pair of sea-green eyes that elicit goosebumps to line her skin. When Perseus reaches forward, his large hand skimming her forearm before dropping to his side, she fights back a flinch. He sighs. "You don't understand, Annabeth. I have to escort you home." He pauses, taking several steps back to give her space before continuing. "After all, we have to appear to be dating first before we get 'engaged.' We can't just come out of nowhere and say, 'We're getting married!' That would do nothing for my cause, and it would appear to be just a ploy to get the money and the company."
That triggers her pivot to face him fully. "But isn't that exactly what this is-" She tries to point out.
Perseus cuts her off again. "That's not the point, Chase. The thing is that we have to look believable. Am I understood?" His warning reminds her too much of her old elementary principal.
Annabeth nods, simply playing along because she has no more energy to argue despite the fact that none of this is remotely legal. But she needs the money… Harley needs the money.
The man beside her mirrors her actions, nodding, before releasing a smile. His evenly-lined teeth are pearly, which is no surprise to her, but the lack of warmth behind the gesture leaves her put off. "Good, now come on," He glances at the clock. "Knowing my father, the paparazzi he's ordered should be arriving outside the building in any minute." Then his cold gaze falls back to her and Annabeth suddenly feels exposed. "Where do you live?"
That's not creepy at all...
Shame and embarrassment crawl up the heat of her skin at the mentioning of her home. "Spotswood Oaks. It's an apartment neighborhood on the other side of-"
Other than cutting her off (again), Perseus makes no reaction. "I'm aware of where it is." He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, his eyes fluttering shut. The tension in her chest lessens. "I guess it would be best for you to come to my house. We could get acquainted there," he pauses to open his eyes and the tension returns. His next words are both chilling and heating. "Possibly spend the night."
Different connotations of the phrase scatter across the forefront of Annabeth's mind, but they are all drowned out by her common sense. She gapes at him with incredulity lacing her words. "Spend the night? Yeah, sorry, sir, but I have a little brother to look after. He isn't capable of making his own dinner."
And there's no food at home, she doesn't say.
"Where is he at the moment?"
"He's at a friend's house: Anyssa Valdenzia."
Perseus's jaw clenches for a moment, his eyes tightening. "Valdenzia, you said?" If possible, his expression grows colder by the second.
Annabeth frowns, puzzled at his reaction. "Yes, Valdenzia…" She trails off before pressing on. "Why?"
All emotion drops from his face and he shakes his head. "It doesn't matter." Then, he steps forward and holds her elbow between his thumb and forefinger. Perseus begins pulling her towards the door. "Let's go."
. .
The elevator ride is silent.
All the way down the 37 floors of Atlantis Consolidated, Perseus and her stand mutely side by side. But whether the silence is awkward or not, she isn't able to decipher.
When the 2nd floor dings, she feels the heat of Perseus's hand coming to rest at the small of her back. Annabeth sucks in a breath sharply from the tingle of his touch and from the warmth of his body, fighting the urge to flinch away.
She shouldn't even be feeling a damn tingle.
1st floor.
The elevator doors roll open, revealing the bustling lobby she had just hurried through barely half an hour beforehand.
Businessmen and women hurry to different elevators and hassle between desks- shuffling papers, filing bills, and making business calls with other cities all across the world.
Perseus guides her out of the elevator and they start towards the doors. Many employees greet Perseus as they pass them. Annabeth also catches a handful of stares (and glares) sent her way that she was most likely not meant to see.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Jackson."
"Good evening, Mr. Jackson."
"Hello, Mr. Jackson."
"Have a nice day, Mr. Jackson."
Annabeth leans up a bit to whisper into Perseus's ear. "Doesn't that get... annoying?"
The pair of them stop by the receptionist's desk.
The businessman beside her chuckles a little beneath his breath before answering in the same hushed tone. "Very."
She finds herself cracking a smile before shaking her head a little. Ridiculous.
Perseus continues, "It appears that you're a better actress than I originally thought, Annabeth."
The 25-year-old opens her mouth to respond with a calm retort, but freezes immediately when he presses a barely noticeable kiss to the skin below her ear.
Think of the money, think of the money… Annabeth forces herself to relax despite the fact that every bit of common sense within her tells her that this is wrong. This is moving too fast.
Giving no truth to the haphazardous thoughts that plague her, the waitress decides to play the bashful card. A smile of that caliber stretches over her lips as Perseus pulls away. Their eyes meet. "Thank you."
Again, his eyes remain cold when he smiles. "Of course."
"Mr. Jackson?" A feminine voice calls out.
They both turn to find the receptionist staring at pair of them. In truth, her slight glare is directed at Annabeth, but the woman's head is angled towards Perseus.
The Italian-speaking man releases his hand from the small of Annabeth's back, leaving the skin there to feel cold and exposed. The waitress shifts a bit and lets her smile drop. Perseus then digs his hands into his pocket to fish out a key. "Ah, yes, sorry," he clears his throat, his tone lacking any sense of apology. "When my father comes back, would you be so kind as to give this to him, Miss Lawton? Thank you."
She smiles with sweetness, oblivious to the lack of emotion in the dark, yet bright green eyes that stare her down. "Of course, Mr. Jackson. Have a nice day."
He throws a slightly exasperated glance over his shoulder, nearly causing Annabeth to snort unattractively with laughter. Instead, she bites back a smile and covers her lips with her hand. Lawton's glare strengthens tenfold.
Perseus turns back to her. "Thank you, Ms. Lawton. You too."
Without missing a beat, the tall man then slides his arm around Annabeth's waist and tugs their bodies close to one another. Faking reflex, she does the same.
Think of the money, think of the money…
They head out the door. When they reach outside, Annabeth finds that she's nearly blinded by the rapid flashes and blinks of lights all heralding the presence of the paparazzi.
Already?
"Mr. Jackson! Who is that fine lady?"
"Are you two dating?"
"Are you two secretly married?" (Honestly?)
"Perseus, will you be inheriting Atlantis Consolidated from your grandfather?"
Annabeth loosely flinches, her skin flushing with heat, as Perseus's grip on her waistline tightens. He tries to push his way through the throngs of reporters with news cameras and make his way to the car. When he realizes the fault in that, the Italian-speaking man lets go of her waist entirely before enclosing his warm palm over her cold hands, catching her fingers in a death grip.
The waitress notices the blond man from this morning standing by the doors of a shiny, expensive-looking car, fending off paparazzi. He's halfway into threatening a paparazzo to back off before he makes her eat her Nikon when he catches sight of Annabeth and Perseus. The Englishman then pries the door open and the businessman nearly dives inside, sending the young woman tumbling after him.
"Shut the door, shut the door," Perseus's words come out heated and intense as he gestures towards Annabeth, his eyes flickering to the flashes of cameras and shouted questions that are aimed at them.
Annabeth reaches over and slams the door shut. Without missing a beat, the man from before then revs the engine and peels down the street. The sound of a deep breath coming from her left pulls her gaze to look at the businessman beside her. She sees that Perseus is breathing heavily, and his previously impeccable suit is slightly wrinkled.
He takes in another weighted breath and loosens his tie, sighing in relief as he stretches out over the comfortable seats.
The waitress hums in satisfaction as she runs a hand over the soft, smooth leather. She doesn't think she'll ever be satisfied with taking public transportation ever again. The car might as well as have been heaven transformed into an automobile. She doesn't feel a single bump on the road- the tires smooth over the asphalt like it's cream.
"Well, that was certainly exciting," Annabeth mutters.
Perseus groans in response, the tantalizing depth of his voice like music to her ears. "I think my father ordered a tad too many. I was only expecting a handful, maybe two or five."
Her response is sarcastic. "Just a tad."
The man beside her doesn't answer as the driver rolls up the glass divider. A bit uncomfortable with the silence, Annabeth decides to fill it. "So, where are we going?" She asks.
Perseus looks over at her, his gaze intense and slightly detached. Annoyance flickers into his green irises before the emotion disappears altogether. "Did I not make myself clear in the office building? We're headed to my house since I don't know if your neighborhood is completely safe."
She tears her eyes away from his face while rolling them, annoyance rising in her chest. "I've been living there for the last 5 years and I've never been subject to criminal activity… and neither has anyone that I know. Spotswood Oaks is perfectly safe." Through her peripheral vision, the young woman sees his eyebrows lift. She blushes before pressing on. "Ish."
Perseus waves that away. "That doesn't guarantee anything. I take safety very seriously, Ms. Chase. So in the meantime, you'll have to be staying somewhere else."
Annabeth feels her jaw drop as she turns back to the businessman beside her. "Excuse me?" The incredulity that laces her words burns like fire. "You have no right to tell me where I live." Her eyes narrow as the shock quickly turns to anger. "No right."
The man beside her looks up from his phone with an empty expression, as if signaling that the conversation is over.
Ha.
When she continues to stare him down, Perseus finally answers. "Is that so?" He frowns a little.
The audacity!
Annabeth sucks in a breath through her nostrils, forcing her emotions into check. "You can't be serious. I," she pauses to wave frantically at the space between them. "Just fucking met you. This 'engagement' that isn't even agreed upon yet is fake. And even if all of that were untrue," Annabeth takes in another deep breath when she feels her anger surge. "You are not the boss of me, nor will you ever be the boss of me. You have no right to tell me anything about my own life."
Perseus cocks his head to the side, taking her words into consideration. Then, almost as if he's confused, the Italian breathes out, "But wouldn't you prefer an actual house?"
Her thoughts joined his side. A better living space. A safer home for Harley.
That causes her to falter. "Well…" She realizes that he's right. "Yes, but-"
He cuts her off for the umpteenth time, angling his pale eyes towards his phone again. "Then it's settled. You can spend the night and I'll begin looking for homes tomorrow."
Confusion rises in her chest. "Wait, what?" Looking for homes? "What are you talking about?"
The businessman doesn't bother to glance in her direction this time. "You can't seriously expect to continue living in Spotswood Oaks for as long as we're involved in any capacity. The press would have a field day."
And before the 25-year-old woman can form a proper response, Perseus begins to talk on the phone, yammering in a language that sounds like German. She scowls and crosses her arms over her chest, her thoughts jogging to the rhythm of chaos.
Think of Harley, she tells herself. He needs this more than you do.
And the notion is a fact in and of itself. Despite that her sudden involvement with Perseus isn't binding in the slightest, she still can't afford to back out. If Poseidon Jackson was telling the truth, then she'll be getting paid to marry the man beside her.
Or, in his own words, paid to get engaged.
Disregarding her own feelings, Annabeth knows that this opportunity is one that cannot be passed up. Her younger brother's chances of success are at stake.
She's vowed before to put Harley first, and she's keeping said promise by remaining at Perseus's side…
No matter how off-putting the cold-eyed businessman may be.
. .
Annabeth doesn't remember falling asleep, but it obviously happened. When she opens her eyes, she sees Perseus's blurred form standing above her in front of the opened car door. The waitress lifts her head to further look at him, rubbing the fatigue from her eyelids. "Where am I?" Her words are slurred with a half-yawn, half-murmur.
His expression is devoid of emotion. "You're at my house, Ms. Chase. And I would appreciate it if you did not spend the little time we have to get to know each other sleeping in my car."
That jars her enough to sit up and rub more sleepiness from her eyes. "My name is Annabeth," she mumbles. Her clothes are rumpled and her feet throb with soreness from being stuffed into her (admittedly beautiful) heels for such a long time.
Without meaning to, a few questions slip through her lips. "Can I at least change my clothes? And possibly take a shower? I feel… disgusting."
Perseus's face remains blank as he nods. "Of course. My housekeeper will provide you with a spare set of clothing and a toothbrush." He then offers his hand towards her.
So the machine can be a gentleman. How reassuring.
Annabeth wrinkles her nose when she takes his hand and exits the car. "Why would I need a toothbrush?"
"We agreed that you would be staying the night, correct?" Perseus's hand drops back to his side, his response flat.
She frowns. "No, you agreed to it. I never said a word." Annabeth has to crane her neck to glare up at him, folding her arms over her chest.
A flicker of amusement passes over his lips when the Italian's eyes narrow for a split moment. "And yet… you didn't make any further objection. Instead," his gaze travels down her body before returning its focus to her face. "You fell asleep."
Annabeth opens her mouth to protest but is annoyed to find that she can't combat his words. He's right.
And besides, she had agreed to spend the night. She just never told him audibly. But even so, the waitress still manages to say, "I can't leave my brother home alone. And I'm not even sure that he has his key."
Perseus leans over her, bringing his body close, and she tenses immediately. His hands reach past her waistline and Annabeth's eyes flutter shut.
What is he going to do?
Her joints are locked and aligned tightly as she awaits her demise. But it never comes. Instead, the sound of the car door slamming reaches her eardrums and the 25-year-old is doused with both understanding and embarrassment.
When Annabeth's eyes open, she sees Perseus staring down at her with a sort of passive expression. But there's something else lingering in his gaze that she can't place, and the sight of it causes goosebumps to line her skin.
Then he nods. "You said he was staying at a Valdenzia house?"
She rubs her elbow, a bit uncomfortable. "He just went over to hang out. I can't ask them to have him spend the night so last-minute, and I don't have their numbers either."
Perseus checks his watch before settling his sea-green eyes on her. His words drip with assurity. "I know the Valdenzias. They'll let him stay. Now come on, we're wasting time." Without another word, the businessman spins on his heel and begins walking towards the house.
Speechless, Annabeth can do nothing but stare at his rapidly retreating backside. How was he so sure that Harley would be able to spend the night?
But then her gaze lifts to the mansion that lays before her, and she realizes just how much money Perseus Jackson is made of.
And it's a lot.
The Italian stops walking and glances over his shoulder, a lightly sour expression glazing over his face. Annabeth studies him closer, noticing just how disheveled he looks. And impatient.
The dim light of the setting sun catches onto his golden skin as he advances towards her slowly. Once again, the little slivers of emotion that he's showed begins to wane as he draws nearer and nearer. Perseus stops right in front of her, his eyes shining gray, and cocks his head to the side.
Annabeth inhales softly and holds his gaze.
"Shall we go, Annabeth?" His tone is patient and calm, the words rumbling in his chest. But as Perseus waits for her answer, his eyes are still so… cold.
So all the waitress can do is nod. Nod and offer the tiniest of smiles. "We shall."
. .
Annabeth steps out of the shower and grips her towel tightly against her freshly-washed skin. The bathroom mirror is foggy with steam, but she doesn't mind.
She closes her hand around the cool doorknob and pads out of the bathroom and into the guest room. Perseus had already introduced her to the majority of the house staff. When he claimed her as his girlfriend, it had taken everything within Annabeth to keep from clenching her jaw.
The waitress's gaze falls to her bed, and she sees that one out of Perseus's legion of housekeepers, Aleane, has set out a few comfortable clothes for her, which Annabeth greatly appreciates. It's just a pair of black leggings and a college sweatshirt, but it's better than nothing. A pair of slippers also sit by the foot of the massive canopy bed.
Annabeth quickly dries off and pulls on the clothing before leaving the room. She can't help but be in awe as she descends the stairs and studies the grandeur of the enormous house once more.
It's all beautiful… but there's something detached about it all that she dislikes. The entire place seems to be entirely for show, without an ounce of comfort that a home should have. Annabeth feels that she's in a museum, prohibited from getting comfortable or touching anything.
But… she supposes that's for the best. No need to get attached to a house when faking an engagement with its owner, right?
As she shuffles into one of the sitting rooms in search of Perseus, she wonders if he lives here alone. The house seems so… big and empty.
The 25-year-old sees another one of his housekeepers dusting a vase. She slows her movements and takes a tentative step forward. "Excuse me?"
The older woman turns, revealing a pair of gray-green eyes and salt-pepper jet black hair. She smiles softly.
Annabeth glances down at her name tag: Raisa.
What a pretty name.
"Yes, how can I help you?" Raisa answers. Her words are heavily accented and a bit stilted with a thick Russian inflection.
"Um, I'm looking for Perseus? Is he around here?" She asks again.
Raisa smiles with kindness and nods. "Yes, yes, Mr. Jackson is in his study… no, his bedroom right now. But no one allowed in there. Very private."
Annabeth returns the grin, although hers is a bit shallower. "Thank you, Raisa."
The housekeeper's smile widens before she bows her head and turns back to dusting. "No… problem, Miss Chase."
That elicits the waitress's instant response. "Just call me Annabeth," she insists.
Raisa gives her a smile, one that says that she won't be calling her by her first name any time soon. But instead of being annoyed at that, Annabeth finds herself returning the grin. She respects the housekeeper in front of her, and she can tell that she likes her already.
"I'm sorry if the guest room is not to your liking," Raisa suddenly frowns. Her eyes cast upwards in the direction of the staircase and the second floor. "Mr. Jackson did not tell us you coming today."
Annabeth feels her cheeks warm before she attempts to assuage the frown on the older woman's face. "No, no, no, it's fine, really," she hurries. Raisa glances at her, clearly unconvinced, so Annabeth continues. "I didn't know I was coming over until today either. Really it's fine."
The housekeeper hums, lowering her head. "You need clothes."
Suddenly self-conscious, the 25-year-old looks down at her attire. She fiddles with the ends of her blonde hair before sinking her teeth into her lower lip. "My clothes…? What do you mean?"
"Cannot wear Miss Bianca's clothes forever," the woman vaguely explains.
A thin surge of anger flares up within Annabeth. Who the hell is Bianca? She bites her lip harder and angles her body away from Raisa so the woman won't think the anger is directed at her.
Perseus has told Annabeth that she was his so-called "only option." But if the man has other women available, including the one whose clothes she was wearing, he doesn't need her. At all.
This is a waste of my time, she thinks to herself.
Clearing her throat, Annabeth turns back to the housekeeper, who had resumed her task of dusting. "You said that Perseus is in his room? Can you show me where that is?"
Raisa lifts an eyebrow a little. "No one allowed in-"
The lie rolls off of Annabeth's tongue. She fakes an easy shrug. "Perseus told me that I'm his exception."
The housekeeper believes her, bowing her head again with a soft smile. "Of course, Miss Chase." However, as her neck angled downwards Annabeth recognized the glint in the woman's eyes all too well. Raisa knows she's bluffing.
The older woman sets down the feather duster and motions silently for Annabeth to follow her up the stairs. The two of them pass by the guest room that Annabeth's staying in and continue down the hall, nearing the end. Then, at the last entrance to a room beset with large, double doors, Raisa stops.
"This is his room." Her words are soothing, and then she goes back downstairs.
"Thank you…" Annabeth mumbles over her shoulder as she stares at the darkened wood doors in front of her. They gleam beneath the light of the chandelier that illuminates the hallways.
She lifts a fist to knock but falters as she thinks over her choices. I can't just knock on his door and expect him to answer, she realizes. He seems like the type to enjoy his privacy… like me.
But then her anger resurfaces as she recalls the housekeeper's words.
No, she reminds herself. Perseus said that I was his only option, but I'm wearing another woman's clothes right now. If he lied to me, I deserve to know the truth. I deserve to get to the bottom of this.
She lifts her fist to knock on the door, prepared to release all her frustration through her knuckles against the wood. But before her skin can every brush against it, the door swings open.
Annabeth's breath catches in her throat and she stumbles back, her gaze zeroing in on the bare chest in front of her. The young waitress cranes her neck, lifting her grey eyes to meet with the stormy green ones that smolder above.
He's smirking.
The majority of her anger drains away as she registers the fact that Perseus is chest naked. And the pair of gray sweatpants that he's wearing hang dangerously low on his hips, revealing a chiseled v-line decorated with wisps of black ink that disappear into the hem of his clothing.
Oh dear gods…
Annabeth swallows thickly and licks her lips, her gaze flickering back to his face. Perseus's smirk doesn't fade at all as he leans against the doorway, his prominent biceps rippling. The heir sinks a hand into his midnight black hair and cocks his head a little to the side.
"Is there something you want, mia bella?"
.
.
Author's Note-
THANKS FOR STICKING AROUND FOR THIS LONGGGGG
Leave a review :)
love, April!