Moving In

Daniel was standing at the front door of his beautiful Bellehaven home, holding it open as Craig approached.

From the outside, the house was impressive enough to make Craig reconsider whether he'd accidentally followed the wrong driveway. Three garage doors stood beneath an enormous stone facade, while floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the afternoon sun. The broad driveway swept up from the street, with a basketball net positioned beside the garage and carefully maintained gardens framing the walkway. The stonework gave the place the appearance of an old family estate, although Bellehaven itself was a relatively new neighbourhood. Everything about the property suggested money, confidence and a complete absence of worries about mortgage payments.

"Welcome home, Craig!" Daniel announced with a smile.

Craig offered a polite smile in return and walked past his supervisor into the house he would be living in for the foreseeable future.

Home.

The word seemed a little ambitious.

Inside, the entranceway looked like something lifted from a luxury property magazine. A polished marble floor stretched beneath a chandelier that sparkled overhead, casting little flecks of light against the walls. A sweeping staircase climbed towards the second floor, its dark wooden banister gleaming beneath the lights. A console table sat beneath an enormous mirror, decorated with a vase of fresh flowers and a bowl that looked expensive enough to require its own insurance policy. Beyond the entrance, several doorways opened into rooms that seemed to get larger the farther Craig looked.

Craig stopped just inside the foyer.

"What do you think?" Daniel asked, closing the door behind them.

"It's... quite a place."

"Thank you! I do like it."

Craig glanced up at the chandelier, then towards the staircase.

Just how much money did Daniel make?

Craig knew managers at their company earned decent salaries. He'd spent enough time working there to have a rough idea of what people in different positions were paid. Even so, this house seemed excessive. The grounds alone probably cost more to maintain than Craig used to spend on rent. The three-car garage, the elaborate entranceway, the expensive finishes and all that square footage suggested a level of wealth that seemed well beyond what he would have expected from a corporate manager.

Maybe Daniel had inherited money. Perhaps he had investments or a wealthy parent who'd left him the house. Or perhaps this was exactly the sort of thing the shareholders wanted Craig to investigate. The thought made him feel a little more alert. He'd been hired to take a closer look at Daniel's life, and already there was something worth asking about.

Then again, there was another possible explanation for why Daniel lived in such a palace.

Thalia.

Craig had learned not to underestimate the extent to which the gods could interfere with his surroundings. His own apartment had been transformed overnight into an extravagantly feminine environment with enough pink furnishings to make a confectioner's shop look restrained. Perhaps Daniel's house was perfectly ordinary by his standards, and the goddesses had simply decided that Craig needed somewhere appropriately luxurious to stay.

"Your things are already upstairs," Daniel said, approaching him with a friendly smile. He placed a key in Craig's hand. "This is yours. Consider this place your home for as long as you need it. As long as you want it, really."

Craig closed his fingers around the key.

"Thanks for letting me stay. I hope I won't be too much of an inconvenience."

"Inconvenience?" Daniel laughed. "If anything, having you here will class up the place!"

Craig glanced down at himself.

The red pleated skirt, fitted black top and knee-high boots were hardly what he'd have chosen to wear if he'd been planning to move into his boss's house. His blonde hair remained arranged in Gerald's elaborate updo, and the makeup made him look polished enough to appear on the cover of a fashion magazine. He'd grown accustomed to the clothes, which was a fact he still wasn't entirely prepared to examine, but looking the part of an elegant houseguest didn't make him feel any less like a man who'd been swept into a situation he couldn't control.

"Come on," Daniel said. "I'll show you around."

The tour began in the kitchen, which was larger than Craig's entire old apartment's living area. Stone countertops stretched beneath rows of cupboards, and a massive island occupied the centre of the room. A commercial-looking refrigerator stood against one wall, beside an oven that seemed capable of cooking an entire restaurant's Sunday dinner. There was a wine fridge, a separate coffee station and enough cupboard space to store supplies for a small army.

"Do you cook much?" Craig asked.

"Not as much as I should," Daniel admitted. "I tend to order in. But the kitchen's useful when I have people over."

Craig nodded, filing that away for his assignment. He'd already had a crash course in cooking for other people, although in his case, it had involved management duties, magical expectations and far too many cookies.

The living room was next. Gigantic barely covered it. A sectional sofa faced an enormous television, while carefully arranged chairs and tables offered plenty of space for guests. One wall featured a modern fireplace surrounded by stone, and tall windows overlooked the backyard. The furniture was expensive but tasteful, in shades of charcoal, cream and deep blue. Nothing looked particularly personal. The room could have belonged to a wealthy executive in a television drama.

Beyond the living room, Daniel proudly showed off a games room equipped with a pool table, dartboard, card table and an array of gaming consoles. Shelves held rows of games, controllers and accessories, while a large screen dominated one wall.

"I spend more time in here than I'd like to admit," Daniel confessed. "It's a good way to unwind."

Craig looked at the pool table.

He and Frank had played a few times over the years, although bowling had always been their usual Thursday-night activity. The sight of the table brought back a memory of sitting around with his old roommate, arguing over whether a lucky shot counted as skill.

The memory was pleasant. It also hurt. Frank would probably have loved this room. Now Frank didn't even remember that they'd ever lived together.

Craig wondered whether Daniel played with friends from work, or whether he spent most evenings alone in here with a controller and a drink. It was the sort of detail he was supposed to be noticing, although at the moment he wasn't sure whether he wanted to investigate Daniel or simply borrow his life for a little while.

The tour continued into the backyard.

A swimming pool stretched across the rear of the property, the water reflecting the afternoon light. Beyond it, a deck held an outdoor dining set and a hot tub. Neatly trimmed hedges bordered the lawn, offering privacy from the surrounding houses. Craig could imagine throwing a party here, especially if the weather cooperated. The space was enormous, but it didn't feel cold or uninviting. It felt designed for people to enjoy themselves.

A separate door led to the gym, which contained an assortment of weight machines, free weights and cardio equipment. A sauna occupied a tiled alcove at the back.

"Everything you need," Daniel said.

Craig looked at the equipment.

"Everything except a reason to leave the house."

Daniel laughed.

"That's the idea!"

It was a reasonable joke, but Craig found himself thinking about all the time Daniel apparently spent here. The man had more amenities at home than most people had access to in their neighbourhoods. Between the games room, gym, pool and hot tub, he could work all day and then spend his evenings entertaining himself without ever needing to go anywhere.

That made the house feel less like a home and more like a carefully constructed world designed around one person. Perhaps that was simply what happened when someone had enough money. Perhaps it was something else. Craig filed that away, too.

Eventually, they climbed the staircase to the second floor. The hallway was wide and carpeted, lined with framed photographs and a few pieces of tasteful artwork. Several doors opened into guest bedrooms and bathrooms, each larger and more elaborate than anything Craig had ever considered necessary. Daniel showed him a spare bedroom that was apparently used for visiting relatives, a bathroom with a marble vanity and a guest room that had been converted into a study.

Finally, they reached Daniel's bedroom.

Craig had thought the other rooms were excessive. This one was absurd.

A huge four-poster bed occupied the centre of the room, dressed in dark blue bedding with a thick, padded headboard. Matching bedside tables stood on either side, each topped with a lamp and a few personal items. An enormous wardrobe lined one wall, while a door opened into an ensuite bathroom that could have passed for a small spa. Beyond the bed, sliding glass doors led onto a private balcony overlooking the backyard and pool.

Craig stood in the doorway.

"You weren't kidding about having plenty of room."

Daniel smiled.

"I like space."

"Clearly."

The next door stood almost immediately beside Daniel's.

"Now, here's your room."

Craig followed him inside.

For a moment, he genuinely wondered whether they'd entered the wrong bedroom. The four-poster bed was almost as large as Daniel's, but this one was pink. Not a subtle blush or a tasteful dusty rose. Pink. The bedding, the upholstered headboard, the cushions and the decorative throw at the foot of the mattress all belonged to the same overwhelmingly feminine palette. Matching curtains of pink chiffon hung over the balcony doors, their sheer fabric filtering the sunlight into a soft, rosy glow.

An ornate dresser stood against one wall, accompanied by a large makeup table and an elaborate mirror. A plush pink sofa sat near the windows, with a matching armchair positioned beside it. The carpet was pale and luxurious, while decorative accents and framed prints completed the impression of a suite designed for a wealthy young woman.

And the walk-in closet...

Craig could see the entrance from where he stood, and even that looked more substantial than the magically expanded closet in his apartment.

The ensuite bathroom appeared just as luxurious, with marble countertops, a large tub and a separate glass shower.

Craig stared.

Daniel beamed.

"I hope you like it. I didn't have much time to prepare, but I think I've got everything you might need. If there's anything missing, just let me know and I'll take care of it right away."

Craig slowly turned towards him.

"You did all this?"

"Well, I had some help."

I'll bet you did. There was no way Daniel had assembled a room like this in the few hours since the investors had arranged his stay. The furniture alone would have required delivery and installation, never mind the coordinated decorations, the makeup table and all the other details.

Magic.

It practically had Thalia's name written across it.

Craig looked around again, trying to decide whether to be impressed or alarmed. The room was beautiful, in its own excessive way. Anyone who enjoyed feminine decor and luxurious furnishings would probably have been delighted to find such a space waiting for them. That was the problem.

A part of Craig was delighted.

He could hardly deny it. The room looked comfortable. The furniture was gorgeous. The enormous bed appeared so inviting that he briefly considered sitting down and simply staying there until the gods forgot he existed.

But he hadn't asked for any of it. He hadn't chosen to move in with Daniel, and he certainly hadn't chosen a bedroom that looked like the fantasy suite of someone who collected pink things professionally.

"I'm sure it'll be just fine," Craig said.

Daniel looked relieved.

"Excellent!" He gestured towards the bed and the surrounding furniture. "I figured you'd want somewhere comfortable to relax after work. And the closet should have plenty of room for everything. The investors were very particular about getting the right things for you."

Craig's eyes narrowed slightly.

"The investors?"

"Yes. They contacted me earlier and arranged for everything to be delivered. I thought it was rather generous of them."

Generous. That was one way to describe it. The investors had apparently arranged not just his temporary accommodation, but an entirely new lifestyle to go with it. The money was impressive, certainly. The attention to detail was almost disturbing.

Still, Craig couldn't deny that the room was more comfortable than anything he'd had before Eros entered his life. And that made him feel guilty.

"Thank you," he said, managing another smile. "I appreciate it."

"Good! I'm glad." Daniel checked his watch. "Now, I'll let you get settled. I've got a little get-together planned for tonight. A celebration of sorts, for you becoming my new roommate."

Craig stared.

"A party?"

"Nothing too formal. Just a few friends from the office, some people from the neighbourhood. Oh, and I invited your friend."

Craig straightened.

"My friend?"

"Frank. That's him, right?"

For a moment, Craig forgot about the bedroom.

"Frank's coming?"

Daniel nodded.

"Some of your old coworkers from the warehouse mentioned you had a good friend. I figured you might appreciate having someone familiar around. Hope you don't mind. He said he'd come."

Craig felt an immediate rush of relief.

Frank.

Craig wasn't entirely happy about dragging his best friend into the magical nonsense that had overtaken his life. If Eros or one of the sisters had a plan for the evening, there was a chance Frank might get caught up in it, too. The last thing Craig wanted was for his friend to become another piece in the gods' games. But the alternative was facing a roomful of Daniel's friends and neighbours alone, with no familiar face to turn to when the conversation became unbearable. Frank would help. Even if only by being there.

"Frank's great," Craig said, letting his smile become a little more genuine. "Good idea."

"Excellent!" Daniel headed towards the door. "Then I'll let you get acquainted with your new space. I'll head downstairs and prepare. The caterers should be here soon, and the guests will arrive in about an hour and a half." He paused in the doorway. "Make yourself at home, Craig. Seriously. You're welcome here."

"Thanks."

Daniel smiled and left, closing the door behind him.

For the first time since arriving at the house, Craig was alone. He stood still for several seconds, listening to Daniel's footsteps recede down the hallway. Somewhere downstairs, a door opened and shut. The house was quiet again, apart from the faint hum of the ventilation system. Craig turned towards the room.

Well.

He wasn't sure where to start. The first thing he did was inspect the dresser. He opened the top drawer and found bras arranged in neat rows, their straps tucked away and their cups nested together. The next contained panties, folded and sorted by colour. A third held stockings, tights and other delicate garments, each arranged with the same meticulous care.

Craig stared.

There were more items in those drawers than he'd ever owned in his previous life, even after Eros had interfered in his wardrobe.

He picked up a pair of panties, examined the fine fabric between his fingers, then put them back in precisely the same place. It was strange how normal the objects had become. A few months ago, he'd barely have known how to choose a bra. Now, he could tell the difference between styles, recognise the purpose of different cuts and identify which ones were likely to be comfortable. The knowledge had simply appeared, settling into his mind alongside his ability to walk in heels and apply makeup.

None of it had been earned. None of it had been requested. And yet his fingers moved through the drawers with a familiarity that made the whole process feel almost routine.

Craig shut the drawer. He wasn't going to think about that right now.

The makeup table was next. Brushes sat in orderly containers, alongside foundations, powders, blushes, eyeliners, mascaras, lipsticks and a collection of bottles whose contents he immediately recognised. Some were moisturisers, others cleansers and serums. Perfume bottles stood arranged along the back, their glass catching the light.

Craig reached for one without thinking. A quick spritz landed on his wrist. He lifted it to his nose. The fragrance was soft and floral, with a hint of citrus that reminded him of clean sheets and freshly washed hair. It was pleasant. Subtle. The sort of scent that would linger without overwhelming anyone nearby.

Craig smiled faintly.

Then he stopped.

What are you doing?

He lowered his wrist. He'd never been particularly interested in perfume before. He'd showered, used deodorant and gone about his day. That had been enough. Now he was standing in a pink bedroom, testing fragrances like someone preparing for a night out. The absurdity should have made him laugh. Instead, he carefully replaced the bottle where he'd found it.

The closet was next. Craig opened the doors and stepped inside. For several seconds, he simply stared.

The space was enormous. Clothing racks ran along both sides, with shelves above them and drawers beneath. Dresses hung in carefully organised rows, ranging from casual summer outfits to elaborate evening wear. Blouses, skirts and trousers occupied separate sections, with colours arranged so neatly that the entire wardrobe looked like something out of a department store catalogue.

Shoes occupied their own wall.

Craig's eyes went straight to them.

There were sandals, ankle boots, knee-high boots, thigh-high boots and enough heels to make a footwear enthusiast weep with joy, each one with high heels of various heights. Some were delicate and understated, with slender straps and modest heels. Others were glossy, sculptural and almost architectural, with platforms thick enough to add several inches to his height. There were patent leather pumps, elegant slingbacks, strappy sandals with gold buckles, velvet heels in jewel tones and black stilettos with narrow heels that looked like they could puncture a floorboard.

Craig stepped closer. His chest tightened with a peculiar sense of anticipation.

They were beautiful.

He'd never thought much about shoes beyond whether they fit, whether they were comfortable and whether they could survive a shift on a warehouse floor. Now he found himself examining the shape of a heel, the curve of a strap, the sheen of polished leather. He wanted to pick them up, feel their weight and imagine what they'd look like with the clothes around them.

A pair of black platform sandals caught his attention, their narrow ankle straps fastened with delicate gold buckles. Beside them sat a pair of red patent pumps with pointed toes and slim heels. On the lower shelf, glossy black boots rose nearly to the thigh, their heels tall enough that Craig would once have considered them a practical joke.

Now he wanted to try them on.

The realisation was so sharp that he stepped back.

No.

He'd already made a bargain with himself. He would play along as long as necessary, earn whatever money and influence he could, then find a way out. Once he had enough financial and social clout, he'd reclaim his old life. He'd wear men's clothes again. He'd stop worrying about whether his wardrobe reflected the person he used to be or the person the gods seemed determined to make him. That was the plan.

But the shoes...

Craig looked at the black platforms again. Heels had been painful when this all began. He remembered the aching muscles, the awkward balance and the feeling that every step demanded more effort than he could spare. Eros had removed the pain, but in doing so had changed something fundamental about the way Craig's feet worked. Flat shoes had become uncomfortable. Heels had become natural.

Now, standing in front of a wall of beautiful footwear, he couldn't imagine returning to the old days of stiff work boots and worn-out sneakers. Even if he managed to reclaim his men's wardrobe, the shoes would stay. That was a compromise, wasn't it?

A small one.

A harmless one.

Craig reached towards the red pumps, stopping just short of touching them. He could already picture himself wearing them. The thought brought a little flutter of excitement that he couldn't entirely suppress.

He loved heels.

Not merely tolerated them. Not simply accepted them as an unavoidable part of his altered life.

He loved them.

Craig lowered his hand and rubbed his face. This was getting ridiculous. He could have spent an hour exploring the wardrobe and still not found everything. There were more dresses than he could count, more shoes than he'd ever imagined owning, and enough accessories to stock a boutique. A glance at the clock reminded him that the evening's gathering was approaching, and he'd already spent the better part of the afternoon at pole dancing.

His legs were pleasantly tired. His hair was still carefully arranged. The makeup was beginning to feel like a second layer of skin. He needed a shower.

Craig closed the closet and turned towards the bathroom. The ensuite was every bit as luxurious as the rest of the suite. Marble countertops, polished fixtures, a deep bathtub and a glass shower large enough for two people. Fresh towels had been stacked beside the vanity, and an assortment of soaps, shampoos and lotions sat arranged on a shelf. Even the bathroom had been stocked with the sort of products he'd once walked past without a second glance.

He turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm. For a moment, he stood in the middle of the bathroom, listening to the sound of water striking the tiles. The house was quiet. His room was beautiful. His closet was full of clothes and shoes he'd never have bought for himself, and he could already feel the pull of wanting to explore them.

Tonight, there would be a party. Frank would be there. Daniel would be there. And somewhere beyond the walls of this enormous house, Thalia and Eros would presumably be waiting to see what happened next.

Craig tip-toed into the shower. The warm water washed over him, carrying away the residue of the day. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the simple pleasure of standing beneath the spray, with no one asking him to model, perform or make a decision. For a few minutes, he could simply be Craig. Whatever that meant now.

He suspected the evening would make things considerably more complicated. After all, the house was full of luxuries, the closet was full of clothes, and the gods had shown no signs of losing interest in him. If the last few weeks had taught him anything, it was that even a beautiful home could become another stage for the absurd.

And from the sound of it, the show was about to begin.