Sweet Hell (4 page)

"You like her,” said Eryx.

"No, I don't.” He said the words so petulantly it wasn't even believable to his own ears. “She's annoying and loudmouthed and insulting and judgmental. And she thinks I surround myself with loose women."

"You do surround yourself with loose women,” said Eryx. “And have from the dawn of time."

"Ah, Dionysus,” Maia offered kindly. “Has it occurred to you that maybe you're just afraid to be with a real woman? You know, rather than a supermodel? She looks really sweet."

"Maia,” he breathed, trying to be patient, even though it was hard dealing with lesser beings. “I have no problem with real women. I've known real women since before you had ancestors. And I have no interest in Josie Marino. I just want to know why she affects me the way she does, and why I become stimulated at the thought of buying a minivan with her and going to soccer practice. And then I want to fix it and forget her."

"If you don't care for the girl,” Eryx inquired, blond eyebrow arched, “why did you even bother saving her? Seems to me you could have eradicated your problem that day."

"I'm not a monster!” Dionysus lowered his voice when Josie looked in his direction. He waited until she was occupied finding a raspberry pie for an elderly lady before continuing. “Josie's just a weak human. I couldn't let that pig hurt her. That's why I was watching. Her lazy brothers make her open the bakery all by herself when anyone could wander in. She does all the work and they take all the credit, and she almost got hurt in the process. I couldn't let that happen."

"By Hestia's fire,” Eryx whispered. “That's why you come for coffee at five every morning. You're protecting her."

"Seriously, dude,” Dionysus blurted, his blood pressure skyrocketing. “She really just makes excellent coffee."

"Dionysus,” Maia rejoiced, barely able to restrain from clapping her hands. “You're in love!"

Someone flung a brick at his chest. Or at least that's how he felt. Crushed. His windpipe felt smashed. He was trying to choke air down into his lungs. For a moment, he wondered if he'd need to be intubated. “Love,” he gasped. “Sweetheart, I don't do love. I do women, preferably in groups of three or four."

"Well, I have an idea for you,” Eryx said as he stood, reaching for Maia. He tossed a few bucks onto the table. “Maybe you should ‘do’ Josie and see if that fixes your little problem."

Dionysus looked over at the coffee girl. She was smiling and chatting with a customer, wrapping a ribbon around a cake box so that it looked like a bloody work of art. Her whole face was lit up. Her cheeks were pink. Her eyes were dancing. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like to put that look on her face.

She happened to glance in his direction then. And frowned. Not as hard as she used to, but it was still definitely a frown.

Oh yeah, sure. Josie Marino would just love to sleep with him. She'd just love to feel like another in his long line of tarts.

Eryx and Maia were ready to leave. Maia grasped his hand and squeezed it. “Good luck, Dionysus.” They turned toward the door.

"Wait,” he said. There was something else that had been bothering him so much his skin itched with the implications. A topic he'd never considered before. A question that was practically profane amongst his kind, and yet he had to ask it. It was suddenly really important that he ask it. “Eryx ... do you miss Olympus? Do you miss being a god?"

Eryx glanced at his cousin, and then he turned toward Maia. He was smiling so happily Dionysus could almost see the sun shining through all his orifices. “No. Nothing I had then—nothing—compares to what I have now."

Hand in hand, the delirious newlyweds left the bakery.

And Dionysus went back to glaring at Josie, sucking back his scrumptious coffee, and being the most wretched god in the pantheon.

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Chapter 3

That evening, as Mike and Angelo Marino were getting ready to leave the bakery, Josie planned another attack. She'd been arguing with her brothers all day, when the customers weren't watching of course, and wasn't done.

Not by a long shot.

She watched them put on their pristine coats as she scrubbed the espresso machine filter until it shone. “Seriously, guys. I ask you to switch my shift so I don't open alone, and instead you make me close alone? Am I the only one who sees how absurd this is?"

Mike brushed a few specks of flour from his clubbing suit. “Josie, what do you expect? It's a small bakery. We can't afford to hire anyone else."

"Yeah, I know. I do the books remember? As well as haggling with the suppliers. As well as the serving and the baking."

"We handle the PR,” Mike argued back. “It's just as important."

"Of course, how could I forget?” She tried not to roll her eyes, even though it felt like her go-to reaction when dealing with her brothers. “Flirting with the customers is integral to the business."

"We bake, too,” Angelo pouted, checking his reflection in one of the counters she had polished.

"Right,” she allowed. “A few, nasty carrot cakes here and there. Meanwhile, I'm responsible for the cannoli, our biggest seller. I give up my weekends to bake those shells and make the filling."

"But you like it. You and Mom always used to bake them together."

"I like it! That's not the point.” It was true. Although baking wasn't her passion, it helped her feel connected to the mother she'd lost so long ago. When she immersed herself in her mother's recipes, she could almost feel Mom standing behind her shoulder, guiding her and talking to her. “I'm happy to give up my weekends, but I'm frustrated. I feel like an employee here."

"Well, you kinda are.” Mike ran a hand through his hair. “Josie, what do you want from us?"

She put the coffee filter in the sink and wiped her hands. “You know what I want."

The brothers looked at each other and laughed. The bums. “That ain't happening, little sister,” Angelo said.

"Make me a real partner. Contracts and everything. Stop treating me like the help."

Angelo approached her and hugged her, while she tried not to slug him. “Josie. Dad left the bakery to Mike and me. It's the Marino Brothers Bakery. It's tradition, like when Dad and his brother opened it up. It's not personal. At least we keep you here, involved."

"Oh, thanks.” She sighed. “Considering how much I invested in the business, it's sure nice to be ‘involved.’ Look, I loved Daddy as much as you guys, but he wasn't exactly the most enlightened man when it came to women in business. He would never have left it to me just because I have a vagina."

"Josie,” Mike said, grimacing. “
Basta
."

"Well, if you have such an issue with my lady parts, maybe you shouldn't leave me alone to defend them when Nelson comes around!"

"He got carried away,” Mike said, dismissing the idea with a wave. “He's not a bad guy. Would a date kill you?"

"Mikey, he put his hands up my shirt. Dammit, where are your protective brotherly instincts? God, even Dionysus Iros was more protective of me!"

Angelo scowled. “I don't like that guy, Josie. He looks at you funny."

"Give me strength,” she whispered. “Okay, look. Just promise me you'll consider it. It'll be good for the business."

They headed to the door. Mike grinned at her. “Finish cleaning the espresso machine, little sister. That's good for business.” They opened the door, and she could hear them laughing as they walked down the street.

"You'll regret it,” she called. “One day I might disappear, and then you'll see how much work I do for you.” The door swung shut and she watched it close.

Of all the...

She'd put all she had into the bakery to help them keep it successful. Had been pleased to help them when they'd needed it. They were family. Lord, she'd even put off her dream to do it! You'd think they'd throw her a bone.

Maybe she shouldn't have put off her dream. She shook her head. No sense going there now.

She took a deep breath and went back to scrubbing the coffee filter, but was too angry to continue for long. She needed release, wanted revenge on her pig-headed brothers. Of course, she loved them. They were just idiots. And because she was too good to up and quit on them, she needed to find an outlet for her anger elsewhere.

And she knew just the place.

Being careful to lock the front door, Josie headed downstairs to the basement, making sure to turn all the lights on. Even in the daylight, the basement sometimes made her feel uneasy, as if she were being watched. At night, it was even worse. The piled boxes of supplies and huge containers holding cannoli shells made perfect hiding spots. When Josie had been a child and her dad had owned the bakery, she'd hated going down there. That feeling never quite left, even now that she was twenty-seven.

But what she needed was there.

Ignoring her growing sense of unease, she headed to the cake freezer, the one that housed her brothers’ precious carrot cakes. She pushed a heavy carton of icing sugar with her foot, kicking it toward the freezer door. Using it to prop open the door, she entered the freezer. Once in, she glared at Mike and Angelo's carrot cakes. They were covered in white icing and decorated with little, orange icing carrots.

Josie picked a cake. Then, using her index finger, she lopped off one of the frozen icing carrots and popped it into her mouth. She continued until the cake was carrot-less and she was suffering from sugar rush.

But it still felt good. She smiled. Braving the dungeon had been worth it.

She heard a faint noise, like a low, musical murmur. Something teasing the back of her brain, like a song drifting out of a faraway window. Maybe a sidewalk musician had set up shop on the sidewalk outside the bakery.

All of a sudden, the box propping open the door flew away from the freezer and the door slammed shut, leaving Josie in the darkness and the cold.

"No,” she breathed, putting her hands out to feel the way in front of her. “No!"

Her heart started to race. This couldn't be happening. She'd suffocate if she didn't get out of the air-tight freezer. If she didn't freeze first.

"Mikey! Angelo!” she cried out. Maybe they'd returned and hadn't realized she was in there. “Guys! Please open the door!"

The only sound on the other side of the freezer door was that strange music. Only it wasn't quite so far away now. It sounded as if the musician had come into the basement. It was a lovely, lilting melody, being plucked out on some sort of stringed instrument. If she'd heard it anywhere else, it would have delighted her. Here, it terrified her.

And then, over the music, she heard a sinister laugh. A distinctly male laugh.

Josie covered her mouth as tears flooded her eyes. Oh, God! They'd made her close and some musical mental case had found her. That would teach her brothers. They'd find her frozen corpse in the morning, bloated, with orange icing dribbling out the corners of her mouth. The victim of a homicidal violinist!

As the laugh continued, low and ominous, Josie found herself thinking of Dionysus Iros and how he'd saved her from Nelson. And wished she could see his gorgeous face again so she could make his damn coffee.

Dionysus didn't feel right. He'd left the bakery before closing, telling himself Josie didn't need him as a babysitter. Telling himself he should just cut the cord, in order to get her out of his system.

But something felt wrong. He couldn't shake the sensation that trouble was following her. That trouble might even have found her.

And, as a god, he knew instincts were generally correct.

He turned back and swiftly maneuvered through the throng of people walking along the
Corso Italia
's St. Clair Avenue. Moving with a preternatural grace through the families with strollers and hordes of young dudes looking to pick up. Ignoring the wedding dress boutiques and gelato stores, until he was in front of the bakery again.

It was closed and dark, but that wasn't a problem for him.

With a sly motion of his hand, he disappeared, and rematerialized inside the bakery.

He listened for any strange noises, but heard none. For a moment, he wondered if he'd overreacted. Josie was probably just fine, already in bed, shattered from her busy day. She was a hard worker, overworked in fact, and passionate about her bakery.

He supposed that was why he cared so much. Yeah, that was it. He admired her work ethic. He figured it was her work ethic that gave him painful boners all the time, too.

Shit.

He hadn't been able to get stiff for any other women in months, but watching Josie Marino organize her donuts made him as hard as a chunk of her brothers’ carrot cake.

What was wrong with him? He had to get to the bottom of this. He was Dionysus, for fuck's sake. It was his vocation to pleasure as many women as possible, in pursuit of his own pleasure. It was as close to a job as he got. Think of all the vaginas he'd be disappointing. It was a shame.

Of course, Eryx had suggested he just sleep with Josie. Maybe that would take the itch away, as well as his sudden, perverse excitement for the institution of marriage. Good grief. Of all the bakeries in the world, he'd had to wander into this one. In all his millennia-long existence, Dionysus had barely even thought of Canada. But when Eryx had gone and fallen for Canadian Maia, he'd been curious, so he'd visited. And, gods help him, he'd discovered Toronto had a lot of babes. Before seeing Josie for the first time, he'd been very happy working his way through them.

But then he'd gone and stumbled into her little bakery. Why? Because of the incredible fragrances wafting out the door. With him being a slave to his senses, he'd had no choice but to investigate. Damn that wonderful melange of cannoli cream and espresso and veal sandwiches!

The aroma had gotten him through the door, and after seeing Josie, he'd been unable to leave. It was pathetic.

He was just concerned for the woman. That had to be it. After all, over time, they'd gotten to know one another in spite of their sometimes volatile repartee. But why was it so volatile? He suddenly had trouble remembering. Surely she'd never done anything to him. And he ... well, all he'd done was come for the coffee ... with all his dates.