Page 73 of Ungodly Rich

Julia yanked the zipper down so hard that it jammed, ripping her dress a little along the seam.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Harry walked around to stand behind her. “Let me.”

Slowly, he set one hand on her hip, pulling the zipper all the way down. His hand brushed against her bare back for a single instant before he stepped away.

That little step was a sign of how strained things were between them. Normally, once she was half-dressed, Harry would have scooped her up and carried her laughing to the bed. But neither of them was in was in the mood for laughter. Or intimacy.

“Do you really think I’m like Preston?” Harry asked softly.

Julia heaved a breath. “Of course not.”

And then she told him. The whole story: How Preston had swept her off her feet, how she had been young and naïve enough to fall for it. How he’d stolen her essay, her spot at Harvard Law, her future. As she spoke, she stepped out of the high-necked silk dress, letting it pool on the floor, and shrugged into a pair of leggings and an old T-shirt.

When she’d finished, Harry folded her into his arms.

Julia let herself lean into him. She closed her eyes, relishing his embrace, the way he made it feel like he could protect her from anything. But she was wise enough, now, to know that such a feeling was an illusion.

No one and nothing—not Harry, or his strong arms, or all his millions of dollars—could protect her like that. The only person she could count on to protect her was herself.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry murmured. “I just wish you’d felt like you could tell me all of this.”

Julia stepped back, meeting his gaze. Her smile was tinged with sadness as she said, “I know the feeling.”

“Right, of course. I guess we’ve both held some things back.” Harry’s voice was rueful, soft. He was still holding her, his arms looped around her waist.

“Harry. Is there something else you haven’t shared?”

Julia wasn’t quite sure what she was fishing for. But she still sensed a weight of secrecy between them, like pressure building in the air before a storm. The awareness had started as a prickling in the back of her mind, and at some point over the past weeks it had grown.

Harry released his grip on her back, sliding his palms down to catch her hands. “There are some things I haven’t told you,” he admitted. “Not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t. At least, not yet. Please,” he begged, his eyes meeting hers. “I promise I’ll tell you when the time is right.”

Julia wanted so badly to trust him. Yet she hesitated. Seeing her pause, Harry hurried to add, “If this is about my family, then we can walk away from it all. The money has never mattered to me. We can go live like normal people, far away from all of this, like we did in Queenstown.”

The thought was tempting—to return to their old lives, back when everything had been simple and straightforward. When it had been just the two of them.

But Julia knew that there was no going back. Not anymore.

She didn’t want to make Harry choose between her and his family, to pull him away when he’d only just gotten them back. Julia thoughtof how broadly he’d smiled when he’d stepped off the boat at Olympus and seen Alina. She thought of how much he loved his mom, how desperately he wanted to make amends with his brother.

Worse, she thought of what Valentine had said tonight:You’ll never make the cut,andHe willalwayschoose his family, every time.

For the first time since she’d learned about Harry’s money, Julia wondered if it was too much.

She didn’t want to be part of a family that considered themselves too good for her. A family that was so focused on money and power, on hiding themselves behind high walls and never letting anyone else join their ranks.

But she couldn’t bear the alternative, either: forcing Harry to run away with her, to leave his family and burn bridges behind him, again.

Julia walked over to the vanity and untwisted her earrings, pearl droplets that Tara had insisted on lending her. She slid the diamond bracelet, also borrowed, off her wrist. Once she’d tugged her hair into a high ponytail, her transformation was complete.

She no longer looked like the bride, like an Ellene. She looked ordinary.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, watching her.

“I’m getting out of here.”

He nodded as if this were completely reasonable. “I can get us a hotel room, and we’ll book a flight back to New York for the morning.”

“I don’t want to go to a hotel room. I’ll go to Abby’s.” Julia tugged on her running shoes.