CUPID GOES DIGITAL. WILL IT WORK?

The headline for the article sounds more critical of my business than it actually is. It dives into the past of Damien Eros and his once-elite matchmaking services and how it evolved to be an entirely new kind of service online after scandal ripped it to shreds. It talks about how my strategy for finding love changed once I found love myself.

Still though, the headline isn’t flattering, and there’s a terrible photograph of me in black and white.

I hadn’t wanted to frame it, but Max wanted to, and she always gets her way. I can’t say no to her. Not now, not ever. She knows that, too, but thankfully, she doesn’t exploit it.

Except to put this article up next to the first one in my brand-new home office.

“It’s good to remember where you came from,” Max says, stepping back from the wall to check out her handiwork. She puts her hands on her hips and looks back at me. “Makes you look like you’ve matured.”

I sigh and sit back in my computer chair, frowning at it. “I look fat in my picture.”

“You sound vain,” she corrects.

“What I sound like has nothing to do with what I look like.”

She lifts a brow but doesn’t say anything more. “I look good though,” she offers.

And it’s true.

In the second article, she’s smiling, looking beautiful, and she’s at my side.

Where she belongs and will forever be. As my partner in life and in love.

I cross my arms. “I see now why you wanted to frame it, then.”

“Well, of course. It’s about me, not you.”

She wipes her hands on her jeans. Since we’ve moved my business from Manhattan to her newly-renovated house, she’s dropped the thrift-store, high-end look, and wears more comfortable, casual clothes. It makes her look less severe and more at peace with herself.

My matchmaking agency in Manhattan closed its doors a month ago when I matched my remaining clients and devoted my services to helping a wider group of people through my online site. I’ve lowered the prices to fifty dollars per match, so it’s now available to everyone, not just the elite. What’s more, CupidsChoice.com differentiates itself from other online dating sites, because I personally review everyone’s files and match them up myself.

And you know what? I still have near-perfect accuracy with my matches. No other service can come close to that level. It’s that personal touch that makes all the difference. I promise to help people find someone they didn’t know they wanted.

And that’s been working out just great. Steven still does PR for me on occasion, but since I’ve taken my services online, I’ve been less in the public’s eye. He and his wife are working through their problems, which is great—because she’s due not too long from now.

It’s also good, because that means that Max’s family—my family now—isn’t exposed to the public. Gotham is safe from scrutiny, and Hector, as grumpy as he is, can remain his old curmudgeon self. It’s less stress on everyone involved.

It admittedly gives Steven less work, but my image has vastly improved anyway.

Because I’ve found the one woman I want to worship and call my equal in everything.

“Come here,” I say to Max, patting my lap.

She coyly obliges, straddling my lap to loop her arms around my neck. I groan at the pressure against my cock. This is going to be one thing I’ll have to get used to with having a home office and no physical clients coming in. The urge to make love to Max every chance I get will be too great.

In fact…

“I want you,” I whisper, nibbling on her bottom lip. “Now. Here.”

“I can arrange that,” Max whispers, grinning in her devilish way. She shifts her hips, and the pressure in my trousers tightens. “Eros.”

“I love it when you call me that.”

She kisses the side of my lips. “It’s who you are, isn’t it? Eros.”

Gods, hearing my name on her lips almost makes me come right here. I’ve never thought she’d be okay with me being an ancient god, but here we are. We’ve discussed what would happen later in life. That maybe I’d find her ambrosia and make her a goddess. Or I’d stay with her and live as a mortal man until death.

We’re playing it by ear. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Max stops and pulls back, giving me a playful smile. “Is there something in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

It’s actually the ring box from Tiffany’s that’s in my pocket, and inside is the emerald engagement ring for Max. It’s been a month since CupidsChoice.com has been in service, and I feel like it’s in a stable enough position to ask her to marry me.

After I make her scream my name, of course.

There’s a knock at the door, shattering our moment of bliss, and I groan in disappointment as Max turns toward the person who interrupted us.

“Would you guys like a cup of coffee?” Carrie asks. She used to blush when she walked in on Max straddling my lap, but it’s gotten to be such a normal occurrence, she doesn’t even bat an eye anymore. “Gotham has to be picked up from school, so I was going to do a Starbucks run on the way back.”

Max covers my mouth with her hand because she knows I’m about to say something snide to our secretary that we kept from my old business. “Our usual,” she says, a little breathless. I playfully lick Max’s hand, and she releases me, giving me a dark look, promising to punish me.

Carrie grins and winks. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes, then.”

She leaves, shutting the door, and I sit back with a groan. “Are you sure we couldn’t have found a better secretary than Carrie?” I mutter.

Max starts to unbutton my shirt, and I suddenly don’t mind the interruption. “She’s a perfectly fine secretary, Eros.”

“She’s not you.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “That’s a good thing. I don’t think the world could handle two of me.”

“It can barely handle the one. Still though,” I sigh. “I wish Carrie were better at…knowing when not to interrupt us.”

She grins wickedly at me. “But did you notice that she gave us an ETA? And Dad’s at the retirement center right now.”

I raise an eyebrow “Meaning that I have twenty minutes to make you want to fire her so we’re never interrupted again?”

“Nineteen minutes, now.” She’s finished removing my shirt, and I let it fall. “You’d better get to it then.”

Sometimes, I wonder if she’s my boss.

“Yes, ma’am,” I whisper. “Cupid at your service.”