Free Sirenz Back in Fashion by Charlotte Bennardo

was frozen. He turned to Caz.
    â€œLeave. And do not let me hear that you are filling my little sunshine’s ears with nonsense.”
    Caz rose leisurely and strolled his gorgeous, half-naked self out the doors, which boomed shut behind him.
    â€œNow you may continue.” Hades took his throne and smiled down like some beneficent prince.
    â€œYou slug!”
    â€œI thought you called me a snake.” His eyes danced.
    Now I was really mad. You touch my personal things, eavesdrop on conversations, and make me shut up? How did Persephone put up with him, six-pack abs and drop-dead looks notwithstanding?
    Frigid antipathy settled in. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to insult the snake, and I can’t think of anything lower than a slug at the moment.”
    So there.
    His response? A deep, throaty laugh that echoed off the walls. “ Mi amore , I am going to enjoy your visit tremendously. You are such a spitfire.”
    I’d like to burn your a—
    â€œI just finished up with Margaret. Let’s talk about your part of the assignment. You will be my companion for however long you are here.”
    â€œCompanion?” I gasped. “How will you explain that to Persephone when she returns? And what do you mean, assignment?”
    He sighed dramatically and made little circles with his hand. “Mere formalities.” He rose from his throne and moved closer, circling around me. I stepped away, not trusting him. He only chuckled. “Don’t worry about Margaret. She knows what she has to do. Allowances have been made for your absence. You”—he returned to his throne—“will act as my hostess, and be pleasant and courteous to my guests. I’ll let you know when you are expected to be available. And since I’m blessed with your feminine company, I think a party is in order. This will be more fun than that juvenile affair at your school. Now, we need a theme. Any thoughts?”
    The Spring Fling is not juvenile! It’s the last dance before the prom!
    I snorted. “Call it the W’Underworld Ball and make people dress up in funny costumes.”
    â€œA masquerade. Ah, yes!” A slow, devious smile spread across his smooth golden skin.
    That doesn’t bode well.
    â€œForget I said anything,” I mumbled.
    â€œ Ch é rie ! You’re not getting into the spirit of the thing!” Hades spread his arms. “Think of the fun we’ll have, picking out our costumes. Who would you like to be? Marie Antoinette? Anne Boleyn? Mata Hari? Hmm, I see you as the Scarlett O’Hara type.”
    He was being playful, and while he was devastatingly luscious, I was neither stupid nor gullible. I picked at a rough nail, showing my disinterest, although I imagined any f ê te thrown by Hades was bound to be on the monumental scale even for an Olympian god.
    â€œI need a manicure,” I said to myself.
    Instantly a nail technician pulled my cold hand into her warm ones.
    What?
    There stood Hades, elegant in a turquoise Lagerfeld silk shirt, dark chocolate-brown pants, and black Manolos with no socks. We were in the most posh salon I’d ever seen, even more so than the one Arkady sent Meg and me to when we were getting ready for his designer show at the Met. Everything was a mélange of cool blues and clean whites. Very Pacific California. A quick glance down relieved my panic; I was dressed in a coral linen sheath by Chloe that I’d seen in Saks only days before. A little wiggle on the seat—yes! Thong included.
    â€œOh, what have you done to your beautiful hands? It’s a good thing you came right in,” cooed the woman. She was petite and dark-haired, reminding me of Meg. “I am Mala.” She smiled briefly and went to work on my wretched nails.
    â€œI’m Tiffany,” said the young woman I’d just noticed pampering my feet.
    â€œWhen you’re finished with your manicure and pedicure,