Page 44 of Ungodly Rich

“We have some exciting news.” Ares spooned a hearty helping of scrambled eggs onto his plate. “We found a place in the West Village yesterday, so we’ll be moving tomorrow.”

“You’re moving in together,” Hera repeated flatly. “Beforeyou’re married.”

Julia flushed at that, self-consciously, or perhaps in anger, Hera couldn’t tell.

“I know we’re hitting the steps in a nontraditional order, Mother, but I promise you that we’ll hit them all in the end. That’s the most important thing,” Ares replied hurriedly.

Hera bit back her protests and nodded, peeved at the way Julia shot Ares a grateful look.

Zeus folded his newspaper with a loud rustling of pages. “The West Village?” he asked dubiously. “Why not just rent in the neighborhood?”

Ares tactfully ignored his father’s suggestion. “It’s on Grove and has gorgeous views of the water from the roof deck.”

“Wait, there’s a roof deck?” Julia cut in.

A smile played around Ares’s lips. “We didn’t make it up there last night.”

Julia’s expression made it abundantly clear why they had forgotten to see the roof deck. She quickly tried to deflect attention. “Harry was so thoughtful! He ordered Thai food and we had an impromptu picnic, sitting right there on the floor, just like the night we moved in together in New Zealand.”

“How sweet.” Hera stole another glance at her husband. Surely Zeus, like Hera, realized what Ares had done—bringing a human into a new home, serving her food, sharing the marriage bed (with or without a literal bed).

He had sanctified their home together, warded it from the other gods.

That was the thing about ancient magic; it was usually quite simple.

“That’s not all,” Ares added proudly. “Julia is starting a new job on Monday.”

Hera tried to feign interest. “Oh, really? Where?”

“One of my former professors runs an art gallery in Chelsea. It’s called LM Gallery,” Julia explained.

“I wish I’d known you were looking for something in art; I just hadlunch with Bradley last week. He’s always hiring at the museum. Most of the openings are in development, but that’s not so different from sales.”

At last, Julia seemed impressed. “You don’t mean Bradley Williams at the Met?”

“He’s an old friend,” Hera said simply. When you’d donated as much as she had over the years, you were entitled to call the museum director a friend.

Julia hesitated as if tempted, then shook her head. “Thank you for offering, but I’ve already accepted the gallery position. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to call upon your personal connections for me.”

Was Hera supposed to be impressed by this statement? As if Julia wasn’t going to call upon Hera and Zeus’s social network for her measly little gallery job, peddling what were likely unimpressive works of modern art.

Her eyes drifted to the engagement ring on Julia’s finger. She didn’t understand what she had done wrong, but the magic wasn’t working.

When Martin had taken the ring away to “clean” it, he had actually replaced one of the small stones with an enchanted relic—the Eye of Argos. It always took the form of a stone but could shrink or grow in size depending on how Hera needed to set it: in a ring, a watch, a diadem.

The Eye of Argos should have given her a glimpse into Julia’s mind. Not in the way that mortals depicted mind-reading on television, as if you were eavesdropping on someone’s internal stream of consciousness, but more like a magical mood ring. Once a mortal slipped it on, Hera could sense their changes in emotion: their outrage, their joy, their fear. She’d been eager to deploy it on Julia and discover how the mortal really felt about Ares.

But now, the Eye of Argos emitted an eerie silence. The spell had failed.

Hera wasn’t sure yet what this meant, but she didn’t like it.

“Mother,” Ares chimed in, “you’ll have to visit Julia at the gallery once she’s started. Surely you’re in need of some new artwork?”

Julia looked at Hera in alarm. “Please, don’t do that. I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated to buy anything.”

Here she was, acting again like she didn’t care about the money or connections. Hera was growing weary of Julia’s loud self-righteousness.

“I was thinking of redecorating the guest cottage at the Hamptons house,” Hera conceded. No way would she commit to buying a new piece for the main Hamptons house, let alone this penthouse. She had no idea what garbage this gallery even carried.