Page 68 of Ungodly Rich

“I know it’s a lot of people.” Harry’s gaze lit up as he caught sight of someone behind Julia, and he put his hands on her shoulders to spin her around. “Go. I’ll man the ship for a while.”

Julia’s entire body flooded with relief as a figure in a gold-fringed dress marched forward, dark bob swinging. “Abby!” she exclaimed, looping her arm through her friend’s and guiding them toward the house. She hadn’t seen Abby since their adventures, or misadventures, at the club several nights ago.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Julia went on. “I’ve been wanting to thank you for the bachelorette party.” It had been worth it, even if it did get her in trouble with her mother-in-law.

Tara had cornered Julia at breakfast the next morning and shown her the paparazzi photos. She had been graciousness itself, assuring Julia that the situation was “being handled,” whatever that meant. But Julia couldn’t help but feel that the whole situation was a mark against her.

“I don’t understand. How did the paparazzo even know who I am?” Julia had wondered aloud.

“It’s their job to know,” Tara had said simply. “I’m sorry to say thatyou’ll have to get used to it. Be more careful moving forward.” In other words, Ellene family members did not dance on tables in a sweaty, sloppy mess.

It had shaken Julia, knowing that she was now someone the tabloids would keep tabs on. That she could be the subject of one of those ridiculous “baby bump” headlines on display in the grocery store checkout aisle.

“About the bachelorette.” Abby lowered her voice meaningfully. “I want to make sure you’re okay. That’s why I called you yesterday. Did you black out the way I did?”

Julia guiltily recalled that Abby had tried her yesterday, while Julia had been in a last-minute meeting with the party planner. Not that anyone listened to her opinion. But after her dressing-down from Tara at the breakfast table, Julia had felt obligated to show up.

“You blacked out?” Julia repeated. “You did have a lot to drink at the club. I mean, you got us vodka Red Bulls.” And all those shots.

Abby made a face at the mention of Red Bull. “I don’t remember the club at all. My memory cuts out at the Four Seasons.”

“What?But—we only had two drinks at the Four Seasons, and you didn’t even finish yours,” Julia protested, as if this might change things. It made her unreasonably sad that Abby didn’t remember any of it: singing Spice Girls, walking through the streets arm-in-arm in their cheap hen-party gear, kicking off their heels at the club and dancing barefoot because their feet hurt. Laughing as they reminisced about all the foolish things they had done in college.

“I must have been drugged. It’s the only explanation that makes sense,” Abby mused.

The hairs on the back of Julia’s arms prickled with a strange sensation. A sort of vertigo, as if something uncanny had tilted the world like a fun-house mirror.

She hadn’t felt this sensation in years. Not since the summer her mom died, the summer everything got strange and unexplainable.

That is, until recently.

Until Harry’s family had entered her life.

“I can’t believe something like that would happen at the Four Seasons! We should report it,” Julia began, but Abby reached for her hands and squeezed them reassuringly.

“It’s okay, really. Nothing bad happened. I checked my Nest cam, and I made it home perfectly fine by myself a little after ten.”

“You mean two,” Julia said, correcting her. No way had Abby made it home at ten; they had barely arrived at the club by then.

Abby didn’t seem to be listening. She took a step back, letting go of Julia’s hands. Her brow creased a little as her eyes traveled up and down Julia. “I have to say, you look very…”

“Bridal?” Julia supplied, attempting to sound lighthearted.

Tara had picked out this dress: a long-sleeved one with buttons up the bodice, all the way to her throat. It was designer and very expensive, composed of multiple layers of lace that swished pleasantly over one another. But it was just so demure, so prim.

“You look like Queen Victoria,” Abby said bluntly. “What’s with the historical vibe?”

“Tara gave me this dress,” Julia admitted.

Her friend sighed. “We talked about this. I’m sure Harry’s mother means well, but you can’t let her walk all over you.”

“It’s just a dress,” Julia said swiftly. “You know I never really care about what I wear. When there’s something worth fighting about, I’ll stand up for myself. I promise.”

If this had been Abby’s engagement party, her friend would have probably shown up in a hot-pink jumpsuit, just to make a statement to her future mother-in-law. But Julia had no desire to make waves.

Whatever issues Harry might have had with his family, she felt certain of one thing. He loved his mother. The last thing Julia wanted was to create conflict with Tara, especially over something as trivial as a white cocktail dress. Even if it was a bit frumpy.

She braced herself for another protest from Abby, but her friend was staring across the party, wide-eyed. “Oh my god. What ishedoing here?”