She stepped inside just as someone call for Lexa.

“Crap,” she looked at Persephone. “I’ll be right back.”

Persephone nodded as her best friend disappeared. Her eyes dropped to Hades’ desk. There were only two things on it: a vase of white narcissus and a picture of her. It was snapped in the Underworld, in one of Hades’ gardens. She picked it up, wondering when he had taken it.

“Curious?”

Persephone jumped, dropping the frame. Before it could hit the ground, Hades caught it and returned it to its place. The goddess twisted toward him, bracing a hand on the desk.

How did someone with such mass move so quickly, she thought. He stood close, his scent hitting her hard, and she was reminded of last night when he’d taken her to bed, claimed her, marked her, possessed her. She hadn’t expected a simple conversation about Apollo to set him off, but it had in ways she’d never imagined.

“How long have you been here?” she breathed.

One of Hades’ powers was invisibility. It was possible he’d been in this office the whole time, even more likely that he’d followed along on the tour without any of them knowing.

“Always suspicious,” he said.

“Hades—” she warned.

“Not long,” he said. “I received a frantic call from Ivy who chastised me for not letting her know you were stopping by.”

Persephone’s brows drew together. “You have a phone?”

“For work, yes,” he said.

“Why didn’t I know that?”

He shrugged. “If I want you, I will find you.”

Still, Persephone didn’t feel like that was a good enough reason for her to not know he had a phone...or the million other things she didn’t know about her lover.

“You are displeased,” Hades said, and it wasn’t a question.

Persephone’s gaze lifted to his again.

“You embarrassed me.”

It was Hades’ turn to frown and his eyes softened. “Explain.”

“I should not have to learn about all your charities through someone else,” she said. “I feel like everyone around me knows more about you than I do.”

“You never asked,” he said.

“Some things can be brought up casually, Hades. At dinner, for instance—hi, honey. How was your day? Mine was good, the billion-dollar charities I own help kids and dogs and humanity!”

Hades’ was trying not to smile.

“Don’t you dare,” she pressed a finger to his lips. “I am serious about this. If you wish for me to be seen as more than a lover, then I need more from you. A...history...an inventory of your life. Something.”

Hades’ eyes darkened, and he closed his fingers around Persephone’s wrist. He kissed her fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It did not occur to me to tell you. I have existed so long alone, made every decision alone, I am not used to sharing anything with anyone.”