Page 30 of Ungodly Rich

Hephaestus was too kind to point out that they were already outside, already breathing fresh ocean air. He merely nodded, his brown eyes fixed on her. “It’s been a long weekend. And you were up with Eros in the middle of the night, weren’t you?”

“I was,” Aphrodite said swiftly, grateful that he’d ascribed a noble motive to her movements. She hadn’t actually woken up for their child, of course. That was what Thalia was here for. Aphrodite had simply been tossing and turning, her sleep fitful after that conversation with Ares on the yacht. She’d finally padded over to the sliding glass doors and stepped onto the terrace, inhaling the warm ocean air.

She’d seen something bobbing on the waves—a rowboat, she’d realized, with its oars tucked in. That could only be Poseidon, sleeping out on the water, as was his habit.

It had hit her, then: the familiar hollow sensation in her chest. The feeling of being untethered, bobbing like Poseidon’s boat on the waves without anywhere to go.

That must have been the reason Aphrodite went back to bed and nestled against Hephaestus, curling an arm around his burly, broad-shouldered form. He was so warm to the touch, like sleeping near a furnace.

“Hey,” he’d murmured, stirring enough to drop a drowsy kiss on her brow.

Aphrodite had waited, her body shivering like a bowstring, wondering if he would initiate something more. Then the sound of his snoring had risen into the air.

Now Hephaestus took a step back, his arm falling from her waist. Aphrodite fought a strange urge to place it there again. She looked up, her eyes locking on his—just as a figure in an ugly red dress moved past.

“I’m sorry,” she told Hephaestus, and turned aside. If he was hurt, or confused, he didn’t show it. He simply nodded and watched her go.

The first floor of the main house had a bathroom specifically designed for these family reunions, with multiple stalls and a row of sinks, like you might find at a luxury hotel or a country club. The wallpaper was patterned with vibrant blue peacocks (Hera’s touch, of course) and gilded so that it shimmered in the light. Embroidered hand towels had been arranged neatly on the Thassos-marble counters. Light poured from crystal sconces with hand-painted shades.

Aphrodite lingered at the sinks, studying herself in the mirror. As always, the sight of her own perfect reflection was soothing.

When Julia emerged from one of the bathroom stalls a moment later, that red dress glaring like a traffic light, Aphrodite was ready.

She applied her lipstick slowly, her movements delicate and precise, watching Julia. The mortal was pretty enough, in a girl-next-door sort of way, with an athletic build and long dark hair. Aphrodite felt her magic itching beneath her skin at the sight of Julia’s imperfections. If she’d been anyone else, Aphrodite would have lifted her palm and given the woman a makeover. She would have started with that dress, which did Julia no favors, hanging on her body like a limp garbage bag. Not to mention how much better Julia would look with real eye makeup instead of waterproof mascara.

“I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced. I’m Valentine,” Aphrodite said at last. “You’re Harry’s new girlfriend, right?”

“Apparently, my reputation precedes me,” the woman replied. “I’m Julia.”

“How did you meet Harry?” Aphrodite prompted.

Julia recounted what was clearly a well-worn story: how she’d seen Ares at a bar and he’d challenged her to a game of darts, and they’d proceeded to stay up all night talking.

Talking? Is that all?Aphrodite thought viciously.

“So, what do you think of the reunion so far?” Aphrodite reached into her purse for a comb and began tracing it through her hair, enjoying the way Julia watched in mesmerized fascination. No one ever looked away once Aphrodite got out her comb.

“It’s…big,” Julia said at last. “I didn’t really know what I was in for.”

“The Ellenes are such a close family, and there are alotof them.” Aphrodite’s voice dripped with false sympathy. “It took me years to keep track of everyone, and I still get some of the cousins’ names wrong!”

It was the right note to hit. Julia seemed to forget that she’d been wary of Aphrodite and leaned forward, bracing her palms on the pristine marble counter.

“I had no idea that Harry came from money. It was so much easier back when he was just Harry Adams, a guy who worked at a bungee jump and took me canyoning on the weekends.”

What a lie. As if anyone believed that Julia hadn’t known exactly what she was doing, going after the son of her company’s CEO.

“Well, I for one am glad he brought you,” Aphrodite said softly. “Harry hasn’t come to a reunion since the one three years ago, of course. I’m glad you changed that.”

As she’d hoped, Julia took the bait.

“You know, Harry still hasn’t told me what happened here three years ago,” Julia mused aloud. “I know he had some kind of falling-out with his family, but every time I bring it up, he shuts me out.”

Aphrodite went pale—easy magic, forcing the blood away from her face, something even Hestia could have managed.

“Doyouknow what happened?” Julia pressed. “Did Harry get into a fight with his father?”

“With his brother, actually. My husband.” Here it was, Aphrodite thought, the moment they had both been waiting for.