Hello fellow demigods! As of now I have a new laptop, so uploading will be easier, but not guaranteed to be quicker. Sucks for you. Anyway, this story is lemony, and I don't own the characters, and blah blah blah. Big thanks to Percabeth4ever1775 for helping come up with the story and forming the plot! As always, leave a comment below, and enjoy!

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The streets were always cold. Spring, summer; it didn't matter. Just cold, and with it, depression. Aching, throbbing depression that made sore every fiber of her being.

But what could she expect? Walking the streets was cold work. How could she find warmth in a place where none was given? She wasn't supposed to feel happy. Just cold. And alone. Always alone. That was the worst. Not the cold, nor the soreness she felt from sunrise to sunrise, nor the abuse she received from those that paid well. It was always the loneliness. The knowledge that going back to her apartment offered no comfort. She had no friends—they had left her after her jump to escorting—and she had no family—they disowned her around the same time.

That was her life. Get up, get dressed. Go to her corner. Work. Go home. That was her good day. That was without getting beaten, without waking up afraid you were being raped. It didn't happen often, but what's often when you fear for your life every waking moment? It's all relative. And nothing would change. Except for yesterday.

He came into her life like a nor-easter. Uncalled, unexpected, and completely unique. He was the very embodiment of perfect. Sea-green eyes, black hair like ocean waves, and a small, sad smile that reminded her of better times despite itself. He was kind, in a suppressed way, but that was to be expected in her line of business. It wasn't often that someone was truly sincere, and after all that she'd been through, that was what Annabeth valued most.

Of course, she didn't know that at first.

It was late in the afternoon. She had been walking her usual corner, just a little off Central Park West and West 108th street. It was a good location: not too far north into Harlem where escorting would be even more dangerous, yet not too close to midtown, a place she considered home. Her own apartment, a dinky little flat packed in with all the others, was right off of East 105th street. The best way to forget about what she was, was to live on the other side of town.

The day had been slow. Only several people, mostly old men who wanted to do obscene things to her, pulled up. She denied them all. Better to not get in the car with people who probably spend most of their social security money on roofies. But then a small, deep blue car stopped about a block away. Annabeth wouldn't have thought anything of it, except for the fact that the man who stepped out of the car was handsome by any standards. Maybe it was her lack of desirable men that wanted to hire her, or maybe he really had looked that good that day, but whatever the case, she soon found herself staring.

The next thing she knew he was walking straight at her. His face now masked by a dark hoodie pulled low over his head, the man strolled cautiously towards her. Annabeth's heart was racing. How could he not be walking towards her? Had he seen her staring? Was he just happening to walk in my direction? No, she thought. No one would walk this way unless they knew what they wanted. I'm leaning in the entrance to an alley. No one would go this way. Was he going to ask for her services?

At last the mysterious man stopped less than a foot away. His face was still obscured, but she could tell that underneath was a ruggedly attractive guy. He wore black-blue jeans and a pair of black converse. Pretty typical for a guy his age. She soon realized that several moments had passed, long after a greeting should have been made.

Annabeth put on her working face. "Well? You want a hot date or not?" she asked cockily. That wasn't her at all, but it's what kept the money rolling in.

The stranger however, seemed less enthusiastic. "I'm just looking for someone to be with. It doesn't have to be you, but I need someone."

She gave him a strange look. "What do you mean? You want to fuck right?"

He gave her a sad look. "No. I just want company. Can you deliver, or should I move onto the next one?"

"Listen bud," she started. "I don't care what you want, but let me warn you, the price isn't going down. Not for you, or any other puppy-eyed guy in this town. Capiche?"

"Yea yea, whatever," he replied. "Hop in, but don't make it to obvious all right? Pull your coat shut."

"Whatever you say."

The ride there was much more interesting than she could have anticipated. Usually, the guys who picked her up drove north-east towards Harlem or the East River. He was clearly not the usual customer. The two of them rode in silence down Central Park West, and turned onto West 63rd street. That wasn't exactly the poorest place ever.

He parked his car on the side and immediately got out. What now? Was she supposed to just follow him wherever he went? Did he live here?

"I'm on the seventh floor," he muttered.

He seemed to be embarrassed that he lived there. Annabeth couldn't have cared less where he lived, so long as she was paid in full. So the guy was rich and he owned an apartment on Central Park West. Who cared?

The downstairs lobby was small, but lavishly furnished. Only a few couches were freely laid out before a large flat screen. Two elegant chandeliers gently swayed above their heads as they kept walking. A security guard sat outside the elevator, tapping away on a laptop.

"Since when do security guards get computers?" she asked.

"Since I said they could," he said as if that cleared up everything.

"Uhh, okay," she responded. What the heck did that even mean?

The elevator doors parted revealing a large mirrored compartment. Wooden railings were bolted to the side, and Annabeth leaned against one, her arms crossed in front of her chest. She looked at the keypad and noticed that there were only ten floors. He lived on the top, possibly in a penthouse. It was typical that nicer apartments had larger rooms on the top floor, and judging from his attitude, clothing, and car, it was pretty likely that he had one.

A soft ding signaled that they had reached their destination. Once again, the doors slowly opened. What lay beyond those doors however, was completely unexpected. Instead of a hallway, with several doors on either side, she found herself stepping into a small circular room, with only one door directly in front of her. The walls were painted a light grey-blue, and there was a single vase on a small wooden table holding the most beautiful flower she'd ever seen. Its fragrance was surprisingly strong for its size.

"What is that flower?" she asked, the wonder clear in her tone.

"Moonlace," he said.

"Where's it from?" she continued. "I've never seen a flower like that before."

"It's a long story," he replied. "It's better not to talk about it."

If possible, he seemed to become a little more depressed when she brought the flower to his attention. If it had such bad memories attached to it, as Annabeth assumed it did, why keep it around at all?

The door to the single room opened. It was dark at first, as his lights were off, but once he opened some of the blinds, she was completely taken aback by the stunning beauty of his apartment. Blue was his favorite color; that much was clear. There was grey carpeting at first entry, and beyond that…

It was too much to take in at once. Everything was modern. The kitchen, complete with a blue marble floor and granite counters, was kept simple and clean. The living room contained an enormous entertainment stand that divided the room between a low coffee table with sofas, and a full sized bar with a pool table close by. The most stunning aspect of it all was the actual architectural layout. His entire apartment was one enormous circle, with a smaller one in the middle that could only be the elevator room that she had just exited. The view was fantastic. The entire south-west side of his apartment was composed of windows, and from it you could see the familiar skyline. Annabeth didn't know why, but she loved it. She could only imagine what the other apartments looked like.

"How many are on this floor?" she asked.

"Just one," he casually answered. "Coffee or tea?"

"Uhh, tea please. But wait, you mean to tell me that you rent the entire tenth floor of this apartment?"

"No," he replied. "Biscuits?"

"I'm not very hungry, thanks though. If you don't rent it, who does?" Her curiosity was climbing. This was clearly a very expensive place.

"No one. I own it, not rent it. Actually I own the entire apartment, but enough of that. Would you like anything else to eat?"

"What? Oh, no thanks. What do you mean, 'enough of that?' You own a whole building. You must be wealthier than you look."

He sighed in response. Clearly he was used to answering all these kinds of questions, and he seemed to be sick of it. "Once again, you make assumptions. I own this building because it's where I live. I also own most of the floors on the Empire State Building, and several ones further downtown. I rent them out. But please, let's not discuss business. I'm not in the mood."

Annabeth's mind was racing. How could he own that many buildings and still live in some apartment? Granted it was nice, but he should have a mansion somewhere. "Okay then," she said. It wouldn't be good if she forgot why she was here. After all, this person probably thought nothing of her. He just wanted company.

"So," she continued. "You have a name?"

"Percy," he called from the kitchen. "Percy Jackson." He walked in carrying a platter of pastries and biscuits, and in his other hand, two steaming hot mugs of tea. He handed her a cup and then sat down on one of the nearby sofas.

That was when she noticed her tea. "Why is it blue?"

"Oh, sorry," he apologized. "That one's mine." He handed her the other cup. "Hope you like earl grey."

Actually, earl grey was Annabeth's favorite kind. It reminded her of home.

Percy sat looking out the window into the city. His tousled hair a mess above his hypnotizing green eyes. He seemed to have taken off his hoodie in the kitchen. Under, he wore a plain orange t-shirt that barely fit his arms. They were well muscled, probably from going to some gym he owned, and well-tanned, which could have been from anything. Once more, Annabeth caught herself staring.

"So what is it that you want to do?" she queried. Often times, rich guys would look for ways to spend their money, even if it was on something they didn't actually want.

"What's your name," he asked, completely ignoring her question.

When escorting, she always used an alias, that way, no one could track her after they departed. "Silena."

"Silena what?"

"Dare."

"Well Ms. Dare, please, have a seat." He motioned to the couch opposite of him and the coffee table.

She sat down, making special care to keep her legs crossed. Several moments passed without interruption, then she restated her question.

"What is it that you want though? No one has ever asked for what you're asking for, and I feel rather uncomfortable"

The sadness returned, and he looked at her with a pair of eyes that could kill. "Well, to be completely honest," Percy started. "I simply want company. I'm known throughout all of New York as one of the most successful business men in the world, and yet here I am, alone and depressed. So I've brought you here to do exactly what I've begun to hate: talk business. I'm willing to pay you an enormous portion of money, not including what it will cost to feed, clothe, and support you, to have you live in this very apartment with me, essentially forever. All debts, loans, or any other financial issues would be paid off in full. You would never have to buy a single thing ever again, but what I ask in return, you must abide by. I only want company; sex is not on the table," he finished.

Shock is not a strong enough word to describe how Annabeth felt at that moment. At first she thought it was a joke, possibly a prank that he was filming, but after closer examination, and considering how he'd brought her into his own place, she scratched that idea. Why would anyone in their right mind want me? she thought. Is he in his right mind?

Annabeth couldn't see how he wouldn't be sane. After all, he did act mostly normal, except for his strange fascination with blue, and his obvious depression.

"So what will it be?" Percy asked.

"Well…"

Thanks for reading! Next chapter soon!