Page 104 of Ungodly Rich

That was an understatement. She’d been terrified of losing her place in the Pantheon and busy meeting with Hera, trying to come up with ways to get rid of Julia. Aphrodite wasn’t just distracted; her nerves were drawn as taut as a bowstring.

“It’s about Ares, isn’t it? And the fact that he’s getting married?” Hephaestus didn’t look at her as he spoke.

The tub felt smaller somehow. Aphrodite reached for Hephaestus’s hands and placed them on her hips. He gripped her tightly but didn’t otherwise move. “It was never about Ares. You have to know that,” she murmured.

“So it was about us? About me?”

“No, it was aboutme.I felt so lonely, so lost in the family. And in that moment, for some reason, it seemed like Ares felt the same way. Like he and I understood each other.” Aphrodite shook her head, and the wet tendrils of her hair swayed with the movement. “We should have talked about this back when it happened, instead of always avoiding it and dancing around it.”

Hephaestus was silent. His hair and beard had grown curly in the steam. Aphrodite felt a sudden urge to reach behind him and tangle her fist in it, pull his mouth to hers.

“Aphrodite,” he said at last, “have you ever wondered why I married you?”

Because you wanted me and were too honorable to sleep with me without marrying me first.

Aphrodite decided against voicing that aloud.

“You are beautiful, obviously, but it wasn’t your beauty that drew me to you,” Hephaestus said, following the train of her thoughts. “It was your curiosity, your sense of adventure. The eager way you delight in new things. You made me want to be like you—to be braver.” He let out a breath, his voice lowering. “I have tried, but, Aphrodite, I’m never going to be like my brother.”

“What are you talking about?” It was disorienting, having this conversation in the close confines of the bathtub, surrounded by the warm water and the lavender-scented bubbles. The candle flickered on the side table, reflected in the great mirrors over the sink.

“I’m not wild or spontaneous. I don’t want to jump out of airplanes or set out on a hike without a destination. I can barely handle the black-tie galas we have to attend for the company,” Hephaestus insisted. “I want to build things, to get lost in plans and ideas, and you—you love being at parties, meeting important people, being admired. I don’t want to disappoint you,” he added softly, mournfully.

You love being admired.Aphrodite thought of all the times she had gone to those parties in a new gown, savoring the glances that strangers cast her way. Suddenly, it all felt flimsy. Like a cheap knockoff compared to the very real admiration of the man before her, who didn’t just look at her and see beauty, but who saw all the best parts of her. The parts that no one else took the time to notice, because they were too busy staring at her body.

“You don’t disappoint me, Hephaestus. Far from it,” she assured him.

Aphrodite wasted so much time thinking about what other people wanted, reaching for their desires, digging up their most secret longings. Why had she never dared to think more carefully about what it wasshewanted?

Deliberately, her eyes locked on Hephaestus’s, she floated closer, until she was positioned carefully atop him. She moved slowly, dragging her body up and down the length of him.

“We could move to the bed,” he growled, but Aphrodite silenced him with a kiss.

Outside, rain drummed harder against the windows. It masked the sounds of water sloshing out of the tub in great sheets, to pool on the white marble floors. Neither of them paid it any mind.

Chapter Forty-Two

Julia

When Julia woke the next morning, her first thought was that the room was too dark. Even with the curtains drawn, there should have been sources of light: the illuminated numbers of the hotel clock, the shadows emanating from the bathroom, where she’d left a night light glowing over the counter. But it was as dark as the underworld, the only sound the steady beat of rain against the windows.

She swiped her phone screen and saw that it was nearly seven thirty, far later than she usually slept. Julia hurried into the bathroom, where she flicked the light switch without really expecting it to work. No luck. She used the glow of her phone to brush her teeth, her reflection flickering in the shadowed mirror like a ghost.

In the closet, Julia fumbled through her things until she found black leggings and her favorite sweatshirt—one that Harry had bought for her as a joke, which readNew Zealand Is for Loverswith a cartoon sheep. Then she grabbed her purse and headed into the hallway, only to nearly stumble into a female figure. It took her a moment to register that it was Nicole, the hotel’s general manager.

“The bride!” Nicole exclaimed, sounding a bit manic. She held up a battery-operated lantern that illuminated her face from below, casting a ghoulish light over her chin and mouth. “We need to talk. Have you seen the Ellenes yet this morning?”

“Nicole, is that you?” an imperious voice called out from a few doors away.

Of course, Julia’s future in-laws were staying a few rooms down from her wedding suite.

A moment later, Tara swept into the hallway. Even without electricity, she had managed to dress as if for a luncheon, in a crisp linen dress and flats with massive diamond studs in her ears.

“I’m so glad you’re all right, Mrs. Ellene,” Nicole simpered, and thrust a hand toward Tara. Julia hadn’t noticed that she was holding a disposable coffee mug. “I brought you an oat milk latte.”

Tara accepted the coffee without even a nod of thanks. “Do you know when we’ll get power back? This is completely unacceptable, especially for a wedding weekend! What am I supposed to do when our guests arrive?”

Nicole gestured toward the nearest window. It should have offered a view over the gardens below, where Julia and Harry’s welcome cocktail party was supposed to take place this evening. Yet the window was a square of darkness. Julia heard a hammering sound. Was that hail?