Page 16 of Witches and Wine
Apollo chuckled, gave me a glance, and continued. “No, no. That doesn’t matter. What I guess I meant was I need someone more—magical.”
And now I did kick him under the table, a growl bubbling at the back of my throat.
Apollo grunted, smiled, and tapped his forehead where my horns normally protruded.
“Magical?” Chelsea laughed, bubbly and bright. “I guess youcouldcompare what publicists do to performing miracles.”
Apollo rested his chin on his hand. “Precisely. And I’ve heard you’re one of thebestmiracle workers.”
“I’m flattered, thank you.” Chelsea re-positioned on her seat, crossing her legs beneath the table and sitting with perfect posture. “What all do you expect from a publicist?”
Apollo squinted his blue eyes at the ceiling before answering. “I suppose the biggest concern is keeping my identity hidden from the general public.”
There was no stopping the snort that blurted from my mouth. For someone so concerned about blowing his cover, one would think he wouldn’t display his powers during every fucking concert.
Chelsea glanced at me, giving me a pinched smile. Like a silently chastised canine, I sat up, prepared to zip my mouth for the duration of the conversation.
“That’s completely understandable, and your confidentiality would be my top priority, I assure you. What else?” Chelsea continued to type and paused, lifting her gleaming eyes back to Apollo.
“As long as you make me look good, Miss Stewart, I’m a pretty easy man to please.” Apollo winked at her, a spark flashing in his right eye.
The front of my skull ached, the horns trying to force themselves out. Balling my hand into a fist and resting it on my lap, I tempered the beast down.
“Absolutely. I’d be happy to give you contact information for former clients who agreed to speak on my behalf if you wish.”
Apollo flicked his wrist. “Not necessary. You’re already coming with glowing recommendations.”
Chelsea’s cheeks turned rosy.
“And say, Dion, does this also mean you got my reply to your wanted ad? The one looking for performances for your club?” Apollo swayed his hand back and forth like he was conducting an orchestra.
This son of a bitch.
“You own a club?” Chelsea asked, curiosity lacing her tone but also a hint of hurt that made my stomach clench.
Giving a quick nod, I stayed focused on my idiot half-brother. “Are you signing on with her or not, Apollo?”
“Oh, there’s no need to rush.” Chelsea pressed a hand over my bicep, and the contact made my entire body feel like melting wax. I couldn’t say I’d ever felt sorelaxedbefore.
“No point in dragging it out, Miss Stewart. You’re hired.” Apollo offered his hand again, and they shook, Chelsea’s eyes beaming. “Where do I sign?”
“Give me one moment,” Chelsea replied, excitedly swiping through screens on her tablet before turning it around and sliding it toward Apollo. “If you don’t want to use your finger, I have a?—”
Apollo signed his name with a flourish of his index finger and flipped the tablet back to her.
“—stylus,” Chelsea finished, pulling it from her purse and staring gobsmacked at the signature. “You didn’t want to read through the contract first?”
Apollo beat his fingers on the table before pushing to his feet. “No need. I trust you.”
Chelsea rubbed her collarbones, causing her skin to redden. “Well, thank you. I should give you my cell number before you leave.”
Apollo slipped his hands in his pockets. “Dion has my number; you can text it to me. Right, bro?”
“I’ll give it to her. Shouldn’tyoube getting back to New York?” I’d said it through gritted teeth, unsure how much longer I could hold back from sucker-punching him in the jaw.
Apollo pressed his palms together and bowed. “Guilty as charged. But text me, Chelsea, and we’ll set a meeting up next week to iron everything out, yeah?”
“Perfect.” Chelsea rose and shook Apollo’s hand. “Thank you again.”
