“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lia said, standing up straighter.
August took his phone out of his trouser pocket, and from its leather case he pulled a small pink business card with the words The Young Ladies’ Gardening & Tennis Club of Wingthorn Hall printed on the front. On the back was a phone number in black, next to a rose and tennis racquet logo.
“Just a moment,” he said. “Have to make a call. Trying to schedule a tennis match.”
He sent the call.
On the fireplace mantel, Lia’s phone buzzed like an angry bee.
“Your friend Georgy likes me,” August said. “She asked if I played tennis and then she winked at me. I said I was game for a game. She gave me this card. Odd that it rings to your phone. Then again, maybe you really love tennis and gardening.”
“What’s wrong with tennis? Or gardening?” Lia asked.
August rang off. “No one home,” he said. Her phone immediately ceased buzzing. “Guess you’re out playing tennis. Let’s try again.”
He dialed. Lia’s phone buzzed. And buzzed. And buzzed. If Lia had a gun, she’d use it to shoot her phone.
August rang off once more.
Her phone stopped buzzing.
“One more time,” August said. “She must be out gardening...” He dialed again. Lia’s phone buzzed again.
“Fine. Fine. You can stop now,” Lia said. August slipped his phone back into his pocket.
“Forget it,” he said. “I’ve never played tennis in my life.”
“The Young Ladies’ Gardening & Tennis Club of Wingthorn Hall isn’t a gardening or tennis club.”
“You don’t say.”
“I happen to manage the ‘appointments’ and the money of some friends of mine who are in the business of pleasure,” Lia explained. “That’s all. That’s why her number rings to me. If you want to see her, you come through me first.”
“You know it’s illegal,” he said. “Not being an escort. That’s legal. I would know. But you...running an escort service is considered pandering and that is a crime in this country, you wicked tart.”
“I know the law,” Lia said. “Two of our best customers are barristers.”
“Tell me something. Why does a wealthy peer’s daughter need to have her own escort service? Your parents are filthy rich.”
“My parents have an open marriage. My grandfather had the largest vintage porn collection in Europe. My grandmother collected the lingerie of famous courtesans. My great-grandfather slept with hundreds of prostitutes in his life. He even died in the bed of his teenage mistress—exactly how he wanted to leave the world. The Godwicks have been playful deviants for centuries. You could call sex the family business if you want.” There was more to the story—much more—but she wasn’t about to give August more of her secrets than she had to. “Why do you do it?” she asked him.
“I love making love,” he said. “Friends, Romans, countrymen. All of them. Line them up and lay them out. That’s me.”
“Got a tart card?” she asked.
“Do you wish to hire me? My week is fairly open,” he said.
“You make a lot of money at it?”
He tilted his head to the side, raised his hands slightly, gave her a look that said, Really?
“Right. Stupid question,” she said. Lia walked over to the mantel. She turned Aphrodite back around. “So let me guess, you’re blackmailing me?”
“I would never blackmail you. It would be an utter betrayal of who I am and what we do,” he said.
She didn’t miss the pointed “we” in his statement.
“I’m attempting to get your attention, Lia. I need you to take me very seriously.”
If she hadn’t been taking him seriously before, she certainly was now.
“All right, you have my attention.”
“Good. I promise, I don’t like being the bad guy, Lia. And I hate being serious. I’d much rather we take our clothes off and jump into bed than have a serious talk. Sometimes it can’t be avoided, however. This is one of those unfortunate times.”
Lia ignored the comment about bed and jumping and her. At least, she tried to ignore it.
“Now...” August continued, “whether you like it or not, you need to either sell me the Rose Kylix or put it into my safekeeping.”
“Daddy was right about you. I should have listened.”
“Your father knows nothing about me, I promise,” August said. “If he knew what I knew, he never would have given that kylix to you. It is an extremely dangerous artifact. It can’t simply be left sitting around your rooms, waiting for someone to get pissed and drink a toast out of it for laughs and end up in an asylum because Zeus showed up in their bedroom five minutes later in the form of a giant swan with a raging stiffie.”
“That’s a vivid image.” Lia could not believe for one second that he was telling her the truth. A god’s magical wine cup? That was plain nonsense.
“Whatever you want to believe,” he said, “the fact is, that cup rightly belongs to Eros and those who serve in the Temple of Eros.” He pointed at himself.
“There is no Temple of Eros. It’s 2019, not...19.”
“How can you say that? You have a shrine to Aphrodite.” He gestured at her mantel while staring at her.
She sighed. “Fair point. But my shrine is just for fun.”
“So is mine,” he said. “Sacred fun.”
Lia turned away from him. This was madness. Absolute insanity.
“Lia, I need you to believe me,” he said. “The Rose Kylix can be very dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing. And you don’t.”
“You want me to give you the cup.”
“Sell it to me. Name your price.”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, absolutely not. My father gave that to me for my graduation. He’d be heartbroken if I sold it.”
“I’ll trade you one of mine for it. I have kylikes galore.”
“Then you don’t need mine. Now...are you going to go tell on me or not?” she demanded.
“Never. On my honor.”
“Do you have any honor?”
“Somewhere...” He patted his pockets. “Left it at home. Probably next to my stack of tart cards.”
“I don’t like you,” she said.
“Yes, you do.”
“Fine, but I’ve never had good judgment when it comes to men.”
He held out his hand to her and she looked at it. Then she put her hand in his. He turned it palm up and stroked the lines of her life. It tickled deliciously, his rougher male fingertips against her soft tender skin.
“Tell me a sexual fantasy you have,” he said.
“What?” She laughed, too shocked to slap him.
“I want to prove to you that I’m telling the truth about the cup.”
“Did you not just say it was extremely dangerous?”
“Not if I’m with you,” he said. “I know how to use it. I know all its secrets.”
“Oh, of course. Makes perfect sense.”
If he’d detected her sarcasm, he didn’t let on.
“I want to prove myself to you. Let me, please.”
“That’s a little personal.”
“Would you like to know one of mine?” he asked, then went on before she could tell him no. “It’s 1780, and I’m a much-used and abused cabin boy on a passenger ship heading to France, and the exquisite teenage daughter of an indebted courtesan is being sent off to marry an ogre three times her age. When she sees poor me, she takes pity on me and buys me from my wicked captain and makes me her own personal—”
“No. Stop. Do not continue.”
“I was just getting to the good part. Don’t you want to hear the good part?” August looked positively crushed he wouldn’t get to tell her the good part.
“No,” she said, though a small part of her did want to hear the good part.
“Tell me yours, Lia.” He smiled. “Just a little hint.”
He caressed the lines on her palm again. She didn’t realize how sensual that could feel, how intimate, like he was caressing her whole life with one fingertip...
“You’re serious about this?” she asked.
“As serious as I will ever be about anything in my life. If you’re willing to drink from the cup with me, you will have an experience that you will never forget. All you must do is tell me what you want, and I can give it to you. I can give you your ultimate fantasy without even leaving this room.”
“This is mad,” she said. “Insane. Absolutely barmy.”
“One sip,” he said. “That’s all. And if I’m wrong or I’m lying, the worst that will have happened is that you will have drunk dusty wine from an ancient kylix. And if I’m telling the truth, we can negotiate for the return of the cup. Surely that’s a reasonable offer?”
“One sip?” she asked.
“One sip,” he said.
Lia raised her hands. “All right. You’ve made me curious. And I’m up for anything that’ll keep me away from the party.”
“Thank you,” he said. “But I want you to enjoy it. So...fantasy?”
She didn’t have to think for a long time before she had an answer.
“My first time was not wonderful.” Classic English understatement.
August’s eyes widened. She shook her head.
“Not that,” she said. “I wasn’t raped, wasn’t drunk, wasn’t violated. I was in love with him. It was just...bad. Sometimes I imagine a much better first time. With anyone but him. Not really a fantasy. More like a wish.”
“Your friend David downstairs?” he asked.
She said nothing, did nothing. He nodded. Message received.
“You know who had a wonderful time losing her virginity?” August asked.
“Who?”
August pointed at her tapestry. “Andromeda.”
“Did she?”
“Perseus was quite a lover. No surprise, as he was Zeus’s son by a mortal mother.”
“Lucky Andromeda.”
“Would you like to be her? Just for a night?”
“You can do that?” Lia asked.
“The Rose Kylix can do that.”
Something about the way he looked at her... Lia almost believed he was telling the truth. And what if he was? What then?
“We won’t be...you know...” she asked.
“Having sex? No. Not in our bodies, anyway.”
“Oh, well, as long as we’re not in our bodies.” She rolled her eyes.
“Wine?” August suggested.
“I’ll get it,” Lia said. She didn’t want him drugging it. If she was going to drink, she would be in charge of the pour.
On her way from the bedroom she paused and turned around.
“Do you think I should wash it first? The kylix?”
“What are you going to do?” August asked. “Put it through the dishwasher? It’s one sip.”
She sighed and fetched a new bottle of wine and opened it. He held out the kylix.
“How much?” she asked.
“Just a splash.”
She poured enough for two swallows into the kylix. She set the bottle aside and waited. She expected August to make a joke, say “bottoms up” or something, but he didn’t.
He cradled the kylix in his two large hands and closed his eyes. He murmured something in Greek, something strange and lovely, as strange and lovely as he was.
“What did you pray?”
“I prayed for you. That you would enjoy worshipping with me.”
“Who are we worshipping?” she asked. “Eros?”
“Each other, of course,” he said. Then he sipped from the cup and passed it to her.
She stared at it, suddenly frightened.
“I’ll protect you,” August assured her. “Whatever happens, you’ll be safe.”
Lia took a deep long breath. She drank from the cup.
The wine tasted a little dusty but still sweet and warm and potent. She set the cup carefully on the bedside table.
“Now what do we do?” she asked.
“Kiss me,” August said.
“What?”
“Kiss me. I dare you.”
“What’ll happen when I kiss you?”
“Good things will happen.”
“Like what?” she demanded.
“I’ll put my tongue in your mouth, for starters.”
“And after that?”
“You’ll see,” he said. “If you dare.”
She wanted his tongue in her mouth. And she wanted to see.
Lia dared.
The kiss was wine-flavored and heady. August didn’t wait to keep his promise. He pressed his tongue into her mouth to open and deepen the kiss. Lia wound her arms around his neck. He kissed a path from her mouth to her throat, then put his lips to her ear.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said.
“Of what?”
“The sea monster,” he said. “I’ll be right there.”
“Where?”
Before he could answer, the bottom fell out of her world.