Page 52 of Ungodly Rich

So the artist himself had shown up to this dinner. Aphrodite twisted in her seat, tossing her curtain of hair over one shoulder as a man with hipster glasses approached. Predictably, his eyes flicked to Aphrodite first.

Everyone always looked at her first—man, woman, child, it didn’t matter. That was the way of things.

Then, to Aphrodite’s surprise, Julia leaned forward. Her smile was warm and completely genuine as she said, “Herra Eliasson, ég elska listina.”

“You speak Icelandic!” the artist exclaimed.

“Only that particular phrase,” Julia replied modestly. “I used to give art tours in the Mediterranean.”

“Well, if you’re going to learn a single phrase in a foreign language, you chose a good one. Loving art is a universal emotion indeed.” The artist looked to Aphrodite again, then dismissed her, turning back to Julia.

Irrationally, Julia’s triumph made Aphrodite want to scream. No one was supposed to outshine her. Especially not a mortal who had memorized a single phrase in a language spoken on one island. People were supposed to look ather.She was beauty incarnate, after all.

Aphrodite reached for her wineglass, fighting off a new, sickening thought. What if Hera hadn’t just invited Julia here to mess with Aphrodite?

What if she genuinelysupportedAres in his quest to make Julia a goddess?

When Aphrodite had eavesdropped on them, back at Olympus, she’d heard hesitation in Hera’s voice. But maybe the queen of the gods had changed her mind. Maybe, for some impossible reason, she approved of Julia.

Hera’s had been the deciding vote back when Aphrodite became a goddess. If Julia had Hera’s support and became one of the Olympian Twelve…

Aphrodite refused to finish that thought. Julia would not be staying, would not force another goddess from the Pantheon. Aphrodite would make certain of it.

Chapter Twenty

Julia

Julia shifted closer to Harry, staring at the sixty-foot climbing wall before them. Neon footholds traced up its surface in a jagged pattern. The top looked unnervingly far, but Julia felt reassured by the weight of her harness, which was attached to a belay line. A gym employee named Bianca stood ready to pull Julia’s slack as she climbed, maintaining tension in the rope. Next to her, another gym employee stood ready to manage Harry’s belay line, though Julia suspected that her fiancé could have free-climbed up the whole wall barefoot.

“Thanks for coming with me. I’ve been itching for a good climb.” Harry rolled his shoulders, his biceps and lats rippling beneath his T-shirt.

Julia nodded in agreement, though she didn’t especially care whether they climbed. She would have been equally content if they’d gone to a miniature golf course, or a shot-and-a-beer dive bar, or on one of those tourist boats that ferried people to the Statue of Liberty. Anywhere that felt far from Harry’s family. No other Ellene would be caught deadhere, Julia thought, staring around the sweat-stained gym with satisfaction.

When she’d agreed to move to New York, Julia hadn’t realized they would see quite somuchof Harry’s family. Of course, she loved her job at the gallery, the one thing that felt like it truly belonged to her. And she loved the new life she and Harry were building together. They wandered around the West Village in search of new dinner spots; they went on long, sweaty runs every Saturday morning. Just last weekend she’d dragged him to an “art show” in New Jersey that had turned out to be more of a flea market.

But the Ellenes were constantly underfoot. Tara, in particular, called Julia on a daily basis with some question about either the engagement party or the wedding. She seemed to be tackling both events with the budget, and ruthlessness, of a dictator launching her nation into full-scale war.It’s just a party,Julia had said on more than one occasion. A remark that left Tara nearly apoplectic with shock.

And it wasn’t just the meetings with event planners and florists. Harry’s parents were constantly inviting them to society parties and galas, to drinks at the Links Club and family dinners at the penthouse.We don’t have to go,Harry assured Julia, each time his father called, but Julia didn’t feel comfortable turning downallthe invitations. Her future in-laws clearly expected their presence—and though Julia hated to say so, it wasn’t the worst thing for her career. At least at those parties she could make connections in the world of true art collectors. People who might come to the gallery and actuallybuysomething, instead of wandering in to browse.

Harry’s sister Alina had flown back to Shanghai after the family reunion, but Harry’s brother Hector and his wife, Valentine, were nearly always at these events. Julia was happy for Harry, of course. She knew how desperately he longed to reconcile with his brother. Harry and Hector still seemed awkward around each other, but they were both trying, and that had to count for something.

“Shall we?” Harry asked, interrupting her thoughts. He started toward the wall without even checking his harness.

“Let’s go,” Julia agreed, and reached for the first handhold.

There was something very Zen about rock climbing, even in a gym. It was as much mental as it was physical. You had to study the course like a puzzle, formulate clever ways to get through the tough sections. Julia relished the way her entire consciousness narrowed to a single action, a single decision: where to put her hand, how to transition from one point of contact to the next. At its best, rock climbing felt graceful, Julia’s movements as fluid as a dancer’s.

As she and Harry got into a rhythm, they exchanged a staccato conversation. Questions would be asked, only to be answered several minutes later when the other person had reached a stopping place. Below, Bianca and her coworker stood watch, following their progress, though Julia noted that Bianca’s eyes lingered a bit longer on Harry.

“How was your trip to DC?” Julia asked. Harry had been traveling more often lately, mostly along the East Coast, on TWL business that remained inscrutable to her.

“Not that interesting. Father was meeting with some senators and wanted me there, in case things got contentious.”

Julia wasn’t quite sure how Harry could help in a political dispute but didn’t say so, not wanting to stomp on his excitement. He was clearly pleased to have gotten the rare one-on-one time with his father.

“What about you?” Harry asked, easily grabbing an orange handhold. “Do anything interesting while I was gone?”

“I sold something at the gallery, actually.” Julia folded one leg under her hips as she yanked herself upward.