Page 113 of Ungodly Rich

“What am I going to do?” Julia sniffed.

Abby tucked her bare feet beneath her, to sit on the bed cross-legged. “You’re going to stay in this room. I will bring you food, and copious amounts of wine, and I will bar the door if Harry or any of his family try to come in. We’ll hide here watching reruns ofGilmore Girls—” Abby broke off, clearly remembering that the power was out. “Okay, we’ll play tic-tac-toe, or do crossword puzzles, or whatever it takes to distract you from all of this. And the second the airport reopens, we’re getting out of here. I’ll fly with you wherever you want to go.”

“I wish I could leave now,” Julia murmured. She thought of what Valentine had said about Harry, that he had fled instead of facing the consequences of his actions.

Once again he’d messed up, but this time Julia was the one who wanted to run away. It sounded so appealing to just vanish and leave Harry to pick up the pieces.

“You know what we should do,” she said slowly, an idea forming. “We should talk to Percy.”

Abby’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Harry’s cousin?”

“I think he could help get me off the island.”

“In the middle of this storm?”

Julia nodded. She wasn’t sure why she felt confident that Percy could help her. She justknewit, somehow, the instinctive way her body knew that oxygen was good and sharp objects were dangerous.

“Are Harry’s parents members of Ripcord or something?” Abby asked. At Julia’s blank look, she added, “You know, that thing rich people pay for when they’re traveling, where ex-marines come rescueyou from dangerous situations. My parents signed up for it before their trip to Patagonia.”

Julia nodded, though she’d never heard of it. “Probably.”

Whatever the reason, she couldn’t shake the sense that Percy would be able help her. And if she was right—if he could get her out—then she would leave. She didn’t care if it was risky, venturing out in a storm like this.

She needed to get away from the Ellenes. For good this time.

Chapter Forty-Five

Aphrodite

Aphrodite had to admit, the ballroom looked surprisingly lovely for being the site of a last-minute wedding, especially in the middle of a storm with no power. The hotel’s staff had done wonders with Julia’s wedding flowers, tying them to the backs of folding chairs, scattering them along the makeshift aisle. They had also filled the room with dozens, perhaps hundreds, of candles in glass hurricanes—which was surely a fire hazard, but who would report it at a time like this? The candles cast a flattering golden light over the gods in the folding chairs, blurring the edges of the room in shadow, so you could only just see the green leafy wallpaper on the ballroom’s curved walls. It felt romantic, as if they’d stepped back in time to some eighteenth-century wedding. Aphrodite had to admit, it felt very Julia.

Too bad there would be no wedding today.

“The ceremony was supposed to start thirty minutes ago. Do you think something is wrong?” Hephaestus asked from the seat next to her. The other guests—mostly gods, aside from that mortal friend ofJulia’s from London—shifted restlessly, checking their watches in the dim light.

Aphrodite waved her hand airily. “I’m sure Julia is just struggling to get ready without power. How is she supposed to look like a bride when she can’t even curl her hair?”

Hephaestus let out an amused breath. “I hadn’t thought of that. I never curl my hair.”

“No, it’s curly all on its own,” Aphrodite agreed, and reached up to slide her fingers through his dark locks. She meant the gesture to be light, playful, to distract Hephaestus from his thoughts about Julia’s whereabouts—but as she cradled the back of his head, her breath caught.

Moving very slowly, Hephaestus detached her hand, but he didn’t let go. He brought her palm to his lips and pressed a kiss there. It probably looked to anyone watching like a chivalrous gesture, but to Aphrodite, it felt raw and wildly erotic.

“Later,” he murmured meaningfully.

She swallowed and nodded. Then Hephaestus turned to say something to Athena, who was seated on his other side. Aphrodite tucked her hair behind her ears, adjusted the straps of her dress. She caught herself wondering if Hephaestus had noticed that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Of course he’d noticed. Hephaestus had remarkable attention to detail. A fact that had become acutely apparent to her over the past few nights, when that focus was directed at her naked body.

She’d felt a momentary burst of panic yesterday, when the hotel manager came to their table at lunch. She and Hephaestus had been feeding Eros, trying to distract him from his latest trick, of transforming all the adults’ sandwiches into jars of baby food. “I’m pleased to report that the wedding between Mr. Ellene and Ms. Dodds will still be taking place,” Nicole had chirped. “Everyone should be in the upstairs ballroom tomorrow morning at eleven!”

Aphrodite stared at Nicole’s retreating form, too distracted to notice that Eros’s bib was flickering from blue to fire-engine red. Ares and Julia were still planning on getting married? EvenafterAphrodite hadspoken with Julia that morning, had told her that this family would chip away at her sense of self until there was nothing left? If she weren’t so damned annoyed, Aphrodite might have been impressed. Julia was not easily frightened.

She’d glanced around the room for Hera, but her mother-in-law was nowhere to be seen.

Aphrodite had decided to take matters into her own hands. She had no other choice. She had to protect her position, her life, especially now that she and Hephaestus were…well, she didn’t quite knowwhatthey were. But it felt momentous that they had finally talked about her and Ares. Maybe now they could move past it at last.

And of course, it didn’t hurt that they were connecting—very intensely so—on a physical level, too.