Page 20 of Ungodly Rich

“Council meetings?” Julia asked Harry. “I thought you weren’t involved in TWL.”

“It’s not a board meeting, it’s family stuff,” he said evasively. By that, Julia assumed he meant the management of all the various Ellene wealth and properties. He shot her an apologetic look. “We usually meet for a day or two at the reunion. Do you think you’ll be okay on your own?”

“Of course,” Julia assured him, though she felt far from certain.

Then they crested a rise in the hill, and the main house came into view.

Julia gasped. It was colossal, as big as a hotel, constructed entirely of pristine white limestone and marble. A tumbled stone wall surrounded it. Julia stepped closer, tracing the ruins with a finger.

“That wall dates from the Frankokratia period. The thirteenth century,” Alina explained in an academic voice that made Julia think of college. “After the Fourth Crusade. Our family’s archers ducked behind the wall for cover before shooting their arrows.”

It took a minute for Julia to register what Harry’s sister had said.

“Your family has owned this island foreight hundred years?” She tried not to sound shocked, but honestly, Julia felt entitled to a bit of shock. Her own family couldn’t trace its lineage any farther than her mother’s grandfather, who had come from Ireland to Ellis Island at the turn of the last century. Just whowerethe Ellenes?

“It’s been our family home for a long time,” Harry said hastily.

Before Julia could explain that most families did not, in fact, hold on to real estate for the better part of amillennium,a figure appeared at the front door of the main house.

Alina shot her brother a concerned glance. “I’ll be in the foyer, if you need me to intervene. Good luck.” She gave Harry’s arm a supportive squeeze, then darted around the figure on the front steps with a deferential nod.

Harry reached for Julia’s hand and tugged her forward to meet Bruce Ellene. “Father,” he said, in what struck Julia as a rather formal greeting.

Belatedly, Julia realized that Harry had abandoned his beer, and quickly set her empty cocktail glass on a table. She hadn’t even realized that she’d finished it. No wonder rich people liked Aperol spritzes; they were as easy to drink as liquid candy.

Then she glanced up at Bruce Ellene.

Her first thought was that he looked vaguely familiar. Of course, there was no way they had met, even when Julia had worked on his cruise line. It wasn’t as if the CEO stopped by to deliver motivational speeches to the staff. Perhaps his photo had been printed in one of her employee handouts, and she’d forgotten it until now.

Harry’s father was undoubtedly handsome, with symmetrical features and a sloping nose: not quite the same sort of handsome as Harry, whose features were blunter, his smile quirky and uneven. Bruce’s eyes were the blue-gray of the sky before a storm, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly trimmed. He wore a casual linen shirt and loafers, yet there was something unmistakably intimidating about his presence—the sense of great power, held on a leash. He seemed to crackle with energy, as if the very air surrounding him was laced with electricity.

“My son. I am glad to see you.” Bruce used the same formal tone as his son.

Then the two men closed the distance between them, and Bruce pulled Harry into a hug.

When they stepped apart, Bruce was still gazing at his son. “I have to say, we didn’t know you were coming. We didn’t even know where youwere.”

“That was kind of the point,” Harry said under his breath.

Julia was still processing Bruce’s statement. He hadn’t known they were coming? But then, who had sent the jet?

“Your brother is here, you know.” Bruce’s tone was sharp, almost a warning.

Julia glanced at Harry in confusion, but he only nodded. “Father, this is my girlfriend, Julia Dodds.”

Bruce’s attention turned to Julia for the first time, and he held out a hand. When she shook it, he looked into her eyes as if he could see into her very soul.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Julia said softly.

“Julia,” he repeated, and flashed a cavalier, charming smile. “Welcome to Olympus.”

The front door swung open again, revealing a woman who could only be Harry’s mother. She was painfully elegant, her dark hair swept into a chignon, her white silk dress cinched at the waist.

“Bruce, there you are!” she exclaimed. “Have you seen Paul? The baby managed to get hold of an arrow, and he’s stabbed Diana with it.”

An arrow? Was archery something that rich people did as a pastime?

Tara’s eyes lit on her son, and she drew in a breath, her expression melting into one of affection, and worry, and relief.