A Scent of Greek: Out of Olympus (9 page)

The door slammed a second later.

Damn! This wasn’t going well.

Don’t worry, he’s just a hothead. He’ll calm down
, the voice in her head assured her.

Chapter Twelve

As he downed the first glass in the dingy bar he’d come across, Dio felt marginally better. But his anger over Ariadne’s accusation hadn’t subsided—nowhere close to it. How could she expect him to give up wine? Today he’d discovered that wine seemed to be the only thing that triggered any sort of memory in him. How could he let go of that? What if it was the only way for him to recover from his amnesia?

Dio shook his head and ordered another drink. What she demanded from him was unacceptable. Deep down he knew that he wasn’t the kind of man who would have agreed to her conditions in the first place. Only a pussy-whipped wimp would. And he didn’t think he belonged to that vile species. He might have lost his memory, but he knew how he felt.

He desired Ariadne, he ached to touch her and bury himself in her to the hilt, but he wasn’t an idiot who’d allow a woman to push him around like that, not even one he loved.

There had to be another reason why she didn’t want to sleep with him, because her claim that it was his drinking that held her back was too unbelievable. Hell, she owned a wine shop! She of all people should understand his love of wine, and appreciate that, as far as he could tell, he was not a drunk. No, she was mad at him for something else, and for Hades’ sake, he’d get behind it.

Hades’ sake?
Where on Olympus did he come up with these strange expressions?

He kicked the next glass back just like the first and kept ordering. Closing time came too early for his liking, but maybe it was just as well. He stumbled back to his pad, his legs almost giving out underneath him as he walked up the stairs. He made it as far as the living room.

The last thing he saw were a bunch of flowers on the kitchen counter. He’d bought them for Ariadne, wanting to surprise her but had never had the chance to give them to her.

Maybe it was better that way. There was no need to give her any more reason to believe he was a besotted idiot who would give into everything she demanded.

His head spun, the alcohol in his blood finally catching up with him. He collapsed face down on the couch and passed out.

***

Something made his eye twitch. Still barely awake, Dio eased one eye open and was met with a bright ray of sunshine. “Helius, I hate you right now,” he mumbled under his breath.

A moment later he shot up from his prone position. What kind of stupid garbage was he spouting? Who the fuck was Helius? A thought came and went just as fast, but didn’t stick. Could he be a chemistry teacher? Maybe he’d meant helium, but why?

Dio looked at himself and noticed his rumpled clothes. Great! He’d slept in them, evidence that he’d been too out of it last night to think clearly. As he attempted to rise, his body protested. Shit, his head hurt! Maybe the last drink had been one too many after all. He was the first to admit that. However, the other glasses before that had been fine.

He made another attempt at rising and swayed as he got to his feet. This was so not good. As if in agreement, his stomach rumbled. He needed food. Maybe it would make him feel better.

On unsteady feet, he dragged himself to the kitchenette, every movement feeling like a mini-earthquake in his head. When he opened the cabinet above the sink, the sound of the old hinges grated behind this temples. His eyes scanned the contents, but except for an unopened bottle of hot sauce and a bottle of olive oil, there was nothing edible in it. The next cupboard proved no more fruitful.

Dio braced himself on the counter before he swung the fridge door open and peered inside. Virtual emptiness greeted him. It didn’t appear that he was much of a cook. All his fridge contained was a bottle of sparkling water.

His stomach growled. “Yeah, yeah!” What he didn’t give for a platter of olives, feta cheese and other delectable finger foods right now.

With a curse, he slammed the fridge door shut, making it rattle against the cabinets. He turned, ready to hit the shower so he could head out and find some food, when he stopped cold in his tracks.

Shit!

Right there on the counter top that had been empty only moments earlier stood a plate full with all the items he’d just imagined. He inhaled. The stuff smelled divine. But it couldn’t be real. It had to be a hallucination.

Hesitantly, he stretched his hand toward the plate, touching its rim. His fingers connected with the porcelain. It felt real. He shrunk back from it. What the fuck was happening here? He was one hundred percent sure that the plate hadn’t been there before. How could it be there now?

Something was wrong with him. It was the only explanation.

Dio ran his hand through his hair, searching his limited memory for an explanation. It hit him out of nowhere: the memory he’d had yesterday when he’d drunk wine. The man on the cloud. Had he been a hallucination too just like this had to be a hallucination, a very vivid one at that?

A terrible thought entered his mind: what if Ariadne was right? What if he
did
have a drinking problem? What if it manifested itself in hallucinations?

The first hallucination had come when he’d had his first sip of wine. He had interpreted it as a memory returning, but what if he was wrong? What if the wine had simply produced an image that wasn’t real? And what if the fact that he had a humungous hangover made his mind imagine other things, things so vivid he could even touch them and smell them? Was he going crazy?

He had to do something about that before it was too late.

Chapter Thirteen

Dio stopped at the open door to the meeting room and peeked inside. Over three dozen people were already assembled. Some sat on their chairs facing toward the podium, others talked among each other. Midmorning sun streamed in from the large windows that faced a busy street.

“I’m glad you’re doing this,” Ariadne said next to him.

He gave her a sideways glance and a tight smile. He hadn’t told her about the hallucinations, not wanting to see her gloat that she was right after all. But he had apologized for his outburst the night before and admitted that he wanted help. It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to say—even with his memory loss he was sure of that fact. He couldn’t imagine ever having asked for help before.

“This feels very odd.”

She put her hand on his forearm, the touch soothing him somewhat. “It’s the first step. I’m proud of you.”

He tried not to examine what her words made him feel and motioned toward the room. “We’d better go in then. I think they’re about to start.”

Dio took her hand and searched for two chairs in the back of the room. He opted for the ones nearest to the aisle and the exit, just in case he couldn’t stomach the meeting and had to escape from this idiotic undertaking.

A few heads turned as his chair grated against the floor. They peered at him with curiosity, but Dio ignored their stares. Unease rolled over him. The place didn’t feel right. He didn’t belong here.

He turned to Ariadne, wanting to tell her that they should leave when a voice from the front of the room interrupted him.

“Welcome to the weekly meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous.”

Shit, that just did it. The words grated in his mind, feeling foreign and wrong. His entire body rebelled against being here, but it was too late to escape now. He was trapped.

“I see our group is growing every week.”

Dio wanted to shrink into a hole. If teleportation wasn’t just a thing from the movies, he’d employ it now. Odd—for him to remember movies, or was it the thought of letting himself be “beamed” away that triggered a memory?

The announcer surveyed the room. “Are there any newcomers here who would like to introduce themselves?”

He smiled invitingly at the middle-aged, bald guy sitting in the third row. “Anybody?”

Dio watched as the poor sod rose hesitantly from his chair and felt the knot in his stomach tighten in sympathy.

“I’m Simon, and I’m an alcoholic,” the man answered before he sat back down as fast as he could manage.

“Welcome, Simon.”

The greeting was echoed by others in the room.

Dio tried to sink lower into his chair to escape the announcer’s gaze, but even while sitting, he was almost a head taller than the people sitting in front of him. There was no way to escape.

“Anybody else?”

Frozen in place, Dio cringed inwardly. Ariadne nudged him and whispered, “You can do this.”

He rose even more hesitantly than the other guy had and stared straight ahead, avoiding looking at the others in the room and instead fixing his eyes on a smudge on the far wall, noticing for the first time that he had perfect vision, hell, it felt like Superman vision. “My name is Dio.”

He made a motion to sit down again, but Ariadne’s hand on his hip stopped him. He looked at her and saw her shake her head. “Go on,” she whispered.

Dio swallowed hard. Did he have to say it? Was this how this worked? First they humiliated you and broke you, and then they built you back up? He felt the stares of the other people on him. The other alcoholics. Gods, how he hated that word. It didn’t suit him. It didn’t fit.

“I’m an alcoholic,” he pressed out, the words nearly choking the life out of him—as if his essence, the very building blocks of who he was had just been demolished with a wrecking ball.

Dio slunk back into his chair, feeling worse than he ever had. Only Ariadne’s hand on his took away some of the pain. He eyed her. She would have to make this up to him, he promised himself. And quickly. If she wanted him to go through with this terrible charade, then she’d have to offer something in return. And he wasn’t going to wait until his wedding night to get it.

***

Hera turned away from the pond and the reflection in it. She chuckled. Seeing Dionysus humiliate himself in front of so many mortals put a smile on her face.

“That’ll teach you,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Teach whom, my love?” Zeus asked behind her. She hadn’t sensed him appear.

“Nothing, dear.”

But Zeus was nothing if not perceptive. He snatched her wrist, stopping her retreat, and pulled her against him. “Ah, my devious wife, what scheme have you concocted now? Who’s sidled up to your bad side and deserves your wrath today?”

“If you’re not careful, my unfaithful husband, it might as well be you who’s next.”

Zeus grinned and released her. “I doubt it would be much fun for either of us. However—” He swiped his hand over the pond, recalling the image she’d studied only moments earlier. “—maybe we can both join in the fun.”

When he looked at the reflection on the pond, he cursed and glared back at her. “My son?”

“One of your
many
sons,” she corrected him.

“Oh, so it’s revenge for my infidelity that has you interfering with Dionysus’ life?”

She shook her head. “You’re taking yourself too seriously. As if everything revolved around you. I’ll let you in on a secret.” She moved closer and raised her lips to his ear. “It doesn’t.”

“Then what has he done now that displeases you so much?” he hissed back.

“The question is: what hasn’t he done?”

Zeus let out an exasperated breath. “Hera, my love, you do know how I hate cryptic remarks, so let’s just cut to the chase. What are you doing?”

“I’m teaching him to be a real man.”

Zeus raised an eyebrow in interest. “And how are you planning on doing that?”

“Watch and learn, my dear.” And maybe her errant husband would learn from Dionysus’ mistakes since he clearly didn’t learn from his own.

“As you know, I learn much better in a horizontal position,” he insinuated and pulled her down to the lush ground, expertly settling her over him, his hard length underneath his tunic pressing against her core.

“I see my husband hasn’t found a strumpet for today to satisfy his lusty nature.”

Zeus’ hands loosened the tie to her tunic. “Oh, I’ve found a strumpet. And in about thirty seconds, I’ll have her naked and panting for release.”

She should reject him simply because of his arrogant claim, but her body was already yearning to be impaled by his magnificent shaft. “Who says you can satisfy her?” she challenged instead.

Zeus ripped the tunic off her body and stripped himself with a magical snap of his fingers. “This does,” he assured her and thrust his cock upwards, plunging deep inside her.

For once, Hera had to agree with her husband. And for a while she could turn her attention away from Ariadne. After all, what could go wrong in plain daylight?

Chapter Fourteen

“There are cookies and coffee in the back of the room for those who want to stay and mingle. See you all next week,” the moderator of the AA group announced.

Beside her, Ariadne felt Dio exhale and mumble something under his breath she didn’t catch. “Sorry, what did you say?”

He glanced at her and cleared his throat. “I’ve already had coffee. I’m good to go.”

The pained expression on his face spoke volumes. This couldn’t have been easy for him. Nevertheless, she was proud of him. He really made an effort to please her and listen to her suggestions. Deep down, Dio truly was a good man. Maybe some bad experiences with relationships had made him shy away from her the day after they’d had sex. Could she really blame him? Her own experiences had made her cautious too.

“So, shall we go?” Dio prompted once more. “I can take you to lunch.”

Ari forced a smile and pushed back her thoughts. “That would be lovely.” As she stood, her cell rang. “Sorry.” She fished for it in her handbag and read the display. It was her shop’s number. “Yes, Lisa?”

“Sorry to bother you, Ariadne, but the delivery with the Chilean wines just arrived, and it doesn’t agree with what we ordered. I think you’d better come.”

“Is the delivery guy still there?”

“Yes. I haven’t signed off yet.”

Ari let out a relieved breath. “Good, don’t. And don’t let him leave. I’m only ten minutes away.” She disconnected the call and pocketed the cell, giving Dio an apologetic look.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with instant concern.

“I have to take a rain check on lunch. There’s a problem at the store. I’ll call you later.”

Dio put a hand on her arm. “Why don’t I come with you? I want to see your shop anyway.”

She hesitated for a brief moment, wondering whether exposing him to the wine shop would trigger any memories. But she cursed herself at the same time: she couldn’t constantly prevent him from revisiting familiar places in the hopes that his memory would stay away. It was selfish, and besides, she had no idea how and when his memory would return. It could happen spontaneously and have nothing to do with seeing familiar places and things.

“Sure.”

As they walked out into the sunshine, Dio took her hand into his large palm. The contact was light, but it made her suddenly feel flustered again. Why did he still affect her so intensely?

“This is really a cute town. How long have I been living here?”

Unprepared for his question, her heart raced. “How long?” she stalled. Would it matter what answer she gave? “A couple of years.”

“Where did I live before?”

“You never talked much about that.”

He made a face. “You’re telling me that you’re prepared to marry a man who hasn’t even told you where he’s from?”

Ari scrambled for a believable answer. “No, no, of course not.”

“You mean you’re not prepared to marry me?”

Irritated, she pulled her hand from his. God, how she hated having to lie to him all the time. “Don’t try to confuse me.”

“How do I confuse you?”

“By asking all those questions.”

He blew out a breath and raked a hand through his full hair. “But I have to ask questions. I have to know who I am.” He looked at her then, searching her eyes for approval.

Regret surged through her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. It’s just, all this, it’s … it’s very stressful.” There, that was a plausible explanation, and it wasn’t even far from the truth. Who would have known that constantly lying was stressful? “I don’t know how to deal with all this, with you losing your memory.”
With me deceiving you
, she wanted to scream.

Dio reached for her hand and brought it to his lips to place a kiss on it. “I understand. But I don’t want you to worry about it. It’ll come back, I’m sure.”

Which was exactly what Ari was worried about. If his memory came back too early, it would be catastrophic. And if his memory stayed away longer? Would history repeat itself? Would she fall even deeper for him? And then, when he finally realized who he was and what she’d done, would he hate her then?

“Don’t look so glum. It’ll be all right.”

***

Dio cast Ariadne another glance. Something was off. Whenever he asked her about his past, she got nervous. Was there something in his past she didn’t want to share with him? The thought made unease slither down his back like a snake. Perhaps it was better if he tried to figure things out on his own.

Later, he’d continue  scouting out the addresses he’d found in his apartment in the hope that some speck of memory returned. But while he was with Ariadne, he might as well use the time to get closer to her. Since he’d bent to her will to deal with his so-called drinking problem, it was time that
she
did something
he
wanted. Quid pro quo.

When Ariadne suddenly stopped in front of a shop, Dio looked up at the sign above the door.
In Vino Veritas
it said.  His mind instantly translated the words for him: truth in wine. He spoke Latin, but he also realized that it wasn’t his native language. Neither was English. He was definitely educated—classically educated, evidently.

Dio followed her into the shop and closed the door, leaving the sounds of the traffic behind him. Hundreds of bottles neatly stacked on various racks and display cases reached out to him to greet him like the prodigal son. A welcoming surge of recognition washed over him and wrapped around him like a warm towel after a cold shower.

His eyes traveled over the bottles, caressing their contents through the dark glass that contained the precious liquid. He felt relaxed and content for the first time since the onset of his amnesia. The wine bottles spoke to him almost in deference, as if they were his subjects and he their king. Dio shook his head at the stupid notion. Clearly, the AA meeting had scrambled his brain. There was no way he was going back there.

He’d never felt so uncomfortable in his life—or the little of his life that he remembered. The thought of giving up wine for good was unfathomable to him. Why would anybody do such a thing? Wine was life, fun, and even healthy for that matter. And besides, why would Ariadne want him to give up drinking when she owned a wine shop herself? No, when the next meeting came around, he’d tell her that he’d go alone so that she wouldn’t realize that he had no intention of attending.

“Hi, Dio, nice to see you again,” a voice behind him pulled him out of his reverie. He turned on his heels and looked at the young woman who greeted him.

“Hi.” He couldn’t put a name to the pretty face, nor could he recall whether they had indeed met.

“Lisa,” she prompted. “You probably don’t remember my name …”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“Lisa, uh, can you help us here?” Ariadne asked, pointing to the delivery man who stood at the entrance to a door leading into the back, a storage area most likely.

“Excuse me,” Lisa said and joined her boss.

Wanting to feel useful, Dio decided to interrupt them before they got too deep into their work. “Ariadne, shall I get us all some takeout food? Looks like neither of you will have time for a sit down lunch anyway.” He pointed at the cases of wine, some partially opened, some still closed, that littered the entrance to the storage room.

“That would be wonderful. Thanks.” Ariadne smiled at him before looking back over the paperwork in her hands.

He found himself smiling back at her, drinking in her sweet features. After lunch, he’d make a play for dessert.

By the time Dio returned from a little Italian restaurant, several pasta dishes and salads in hand, the delivery man had left, and Lisa and Ariadne were carrying the heavy cases into the storage room. He dropped the food onto the counter and rushed toward them.

“Let me do that,” he offered and took the case right out of Ariadne’s arms. “Why don’t the two of you start with lunch and I’ll join you once I’ve put the wine away?”

“You brought lunch for me too?” Lisa asked, surprise evident in her raised voice.

“Of course. You need to put some meat on your bones.” He winked. The girl was entirely too skinny for his taste. Now, Ariadne’s lush curves, they were a totally different thing. When his gaze traveled up Ari’s hips and breasts and landed on her face, he noticed her miffed expression. Had he said something wrong? She couldn’t possibly have taken his comment to Lisa the wrong way, could she? Or was he prone to flirt with other women? “Now, both of you, eat.”

He walked into the store room when Ariadne called after him, “But you don’t know where to put them.”

“Sorted by country, then by varietal, then by year?” It was how his own wine cellar was stocked.
His own wine cellar
? Where would he have a wine cellar? There was no space in his small apartment in Charleston to have such a luxury. All he had was a wine fridge. Yet he knew with one hundred percent certainty that he had a wine cellar. Somewhere.

“Yes, just like that,” Ariadne confirmed.

The smell of the food wafted into the storeroom as he hefted case after case into it and stacked them up high. Soon, his stomach growled, and he was glad when the last case was in its place.

He emerged from the storage room and stopped for a moment to watch Ariadne and Lisa enjoy their lunch at the tasting counter. While Lisa was a pretty girl, and very young at that, his eyes were drawn to Ariadne and her figure. Everything about her was more mature and riper than the fresh girl by her side. Ripe for the plucking. And what a plentiful harvest it would be.

His groin tightened at the thought. If he didn’t get his hands on her soon, he’d burst into flames.

“Have you left me anything?” He walked over to them and peered into the cartons.

“You bought way too much,” Ariadne claimed.

“I’m famished.” For more than just food. Dio forced himself to shovel some pasta onto a paper plate and dig into it. The sooner he’d eaten his main course, the sooner he’d be able to move onto dessert. Which wouldn’t stop him from looking at his dessert while eating his entré.

Lisa cleaned off the last of the pasta from her plate when the little bell over the door tinkled, announcing the arrival of a customer. “I’ll get that.”

“I’ll help you clean up,” Dio offered Ariadne in the next instance.

“I’ve got it.” Ari reached for an empty carton just as he did, their hands touching. She gave a nervous giggle before she tossed the carton into the trash behind her. The remaining containers and paper plates followed suit. “Done.”

“Do you want to check on whether I put the cases in the right place?” Dio asked, a plan already forming in his mind.

“Yes, let me make sure I can find them later.”

He followed her into the storeroom and quietly closed the door behind them. He didn’t need an audience. As she walked between the aisles toward the far wall of the room, Dio admired the seductive sway of her hips and the elegant curve of her legs. He knew exactly what he wanted her to do with those long legs. They looked strong and well-toned, and he could fairly feel them wrapping around his hips as he thrust into her.

Despite the coolness in the room, a thin layer of perspiration built on Dio’s forehead and neck. His heart raced and pumped blood to his cock in anticipation of what his brain was planning.

Ariadne stopped in front of the cases and perused them. Dio approached from behind and placed one hand to the side of her shoulder, touching the box behind her. “Did I do all right?” He purposefully lowered his voice, allowing it to sound more seductive than he’d ever spoken to her.

“Y-yes. It’s fine.” Her voice stuttered slightly, attesting to the fact that she was aware of his nearness and maybe even his intention.

“Tell me, baby, have we ever kissed in here?” He placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him.

“N-no.” Her eyes were downcast as if she couldn’t meet his gaze, too afraid of what she’d see: the lust that was boiling over.

He shelved her chin on his palm and tilted her face up. “Why not?”

“We … we … I don’t know.” Her eyes skidded past him as if searching for an escape. There would be none.

“We’ll have to remedy that.” Without haste, he dropped his head to hers. “We do kiss, don’t we?”

“Y-yes.”

He felt a surge of power at her answer. “Good. Because I have the feeling that I like kissing you. And I’m a little starved for a kiss right now.” Then he crossed the remaining distance between them and brushed his lips to hers in a feather-light touch.

Her breath hitched at the contact, confirming that she was physically attracted to him. He would use this knowledge to free her from the stupid notion of practicing abstinence. In a few minutes, he’d have her panting for release.

Dio slid his hand to the back of her neck and slanted his head, sliding his lips over hers once more. His thigh brushed against her hip, the contact sending a flame of white heat through his groin. Of its own volition, his other thigh nudged between her legs to press against her center.

A sigh escaped her mouth and bounced against his lips. He parted his lips to drink in her scent before pulling her upper lip into his mouth. Slowly, he slid his tongue over the soft flesh and felt her tremble in response.

“Easy, baby,” he cooed and repeated his action.

When Ariadne parted her lips a moment later to take in a breath, Dio pressed his lips against her and allowed his tongue to glide into her. First slowly and with measured strokes, he explored her sweet cavern, tasting, touching, and caressing. An involuntary groan burst from his chest. By the gods, he enjoyed kissing her even more than he thought was humanly possible. As he pressed her against the cases at her back, he intensified his kiss and let all ideas of a slow seduction fly into the wind.

Instead, he captured her, allowing her no reprieve, and issued his demand. With determined strokes, he slid against her tongue, initiating a passionate dance, one she answered without hesitation. This wasn’t the kiss of a woman who didn’t know carnal pleasures. The kiss she shared with him was passionate and all-consuming, and the sounds coming from her body, the soft moans and sighs issued from her chest, were not those of a shy virgin.