<i>In an alternate London — sleek, technological, humming with unseen energy — the gods of Olympus walk among mortals. Hidden in flesh, they run their empire from the top floors of Olympus Corp, each deity commanding their own department, their own desires.</i><br><i>On a warm, golden afternoon, Aphrodite slips into the city below. By her side walks Athena — sharp-eyed, knowing, dangerous. Disguised as eighteen-year-old girls in short skirts and soft giggles, they pass as mortals with ease.</i><br><i>They enter a lively pub near Camden, heading straight for the billiards table. Balls clack. Laughter rings. The goddesses laugh like girls, but their eyes burn with something older.</i><br><i>That’s when Aphrodite sees him.</i><br><i>Dionysus — sprawled in a booth nearby, disguised, distant, unaware of their divine presence thanks to the cloaking spells they wear. But Aphrodite feels his hunger. His fire.</i><br><i>She leans toward Athena, smirking.</i><br><i>“Let’s play a game,” she whisp

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