Page 49 of Ungodly Rich

“Sorry. Allergies.” He cleared his throat. “You were telling me about your parents? I mean—you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he amended. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

Julia shrugged. “My mother passed away when I was nine. My father was never in the picture.”

“He wasn’t a good guy?” Hermes felt clumsy, fishing for information without magic, relying on nothing but his wits and his charm. This was probably a sensitive subject, but Hera would definitely want to know about Julia’s absent father.

“My mother never talked about him.” Julia sounded bitter. “I always suspected that he might have been a partner at the law firm where she was interning, because I’m pretty sure she received some kind of payout. All I really know for certain is that once she got pregnant, she dropped out of law school.”

“I’m sure your mom was a very special woman,” Hermes said gently. “What was her name?”

“Claire.” Julia smiled. “Even though it was only the two of us, we were so happy. She would do things like buy cookie cutters shaped like zoo animals, so that she could cut my PB & J sandwiches into elephants or crocodiles. She’s the one who got me into art; she loved to take me to the local museum on her days off. And she always said that she believed in magic.”

That last detail piqued Hermes’s interest. “You mean tarot, Ouija boards, things like that?”

“No, she was a lawyer, a logical thinker at heart. More like…she loved telling fairy tales, daydreaming about the impossible. With her, life was full of wonder and possibility.”

“What happened to her?”

Julia’s hand on the railing tightened. “She died in an accident.”

“I’m so sorry,” Hermes said quickly, hoping that the rest of the evening would help Julia forget this conversation. Guilt squirmed in his chest, alongside a flicker of fear.

His magic hadn’t worked on Julia. That had to mean something, and whatever it was, he suspected that it didn’t bode well for him. Should he tell Hera, or would this revelation only upset her? And Hades would surely want to know, too.

Perhaps it was safer if Hermes kept this tidbit to himself, at leastuntil he had done a little more digging into Julia—and what had brought her among them.

As if on cue, a chime sounded around the rooftop. The museum’s head of development stood near the tables, smiling as he gestured everyone to their assigned seat.

“Oh, we’re in for a treat.” Hermes started babbling, still trying to normalize things between them. “The food is nothing special, but they always serve thebestwine at these events, because of course, the more wine they pour, the more readily the checkbooks come out….”

It wasn’t until they were nearly at their table, with its glass pinwheel centerpiece and calligraphed place cards, that Hermes saw who else would be joining them.

Aphrodite was seated next to Julia.

Chapter Nineteen

Aphrodite

Aphrodite couldn’t believe the nerve of Hera, inviting this drab little mortal to the Curator’s Circle dinner instead of her.

Everyone in the family knew that the Met fell in Aphrodite’s domain. She was masterful at these events, representing the family with grace and style. Over the years she’d charmed countless artists into loaning works to the museum—or better yet, into selling to Zeus and Hera. Eventually, Hera had accepted the inevitability of Aphrodite’s presence, though she would never have dreamed of actually arriving at the dinners with Aphrodite, the way she would with Zeus. The goddesses took their own cars to the Met, though their apartments were a mere two blocks apart.

But when Aphrodite had texted asking for details about tonight’s event, Hera had replied, with maddening nonchalance, that the Ellene seats were “already spoken for.”

Naturally, Aphrodite had manipulated her way onto the guest list. All it had taken was a quick phone call to the development office, wherean overeager woman named Kristi had been happy to add another seat for the Ellenes.

Now Aphrodite was here. And, inexplicably, so was Julia.

The mortal woman looked like the “before” character in a nineties makeover montage. She had on another nondescript sack dress, this time in black, and pearl studs—pearl studs? Who did she think she was, a teenager getting her ears pierced at Claire’s?

Hera was sending Aphrodite a message by giving her seat to Julia, subtly warning her that Aphrodite’s spot on the Olympian Council could be usurped as well.

“Julia!” Aphrodite leaned over to give the mortal a perfumed, performative hug. “I’m so glad that you’re here tonight. I’ve been wanting to talk to you ever since Olympus, but we haven’t gotten the chance.”Because you’ve been avoiding me,was the unspoken subtext.Because you’re afraid of me, as you should be.

“We’ve been so busy with the move. Harry found us a place in the West Village,” Julia began, but Aphrodite wasn’t so easily dissuaded. She shifted on her chair so that she and Julia were face-to-face.

“I feel terrible about what happened that night at the reunion. I never should have told you about me and Harry—”

“It’s fine, really.” Julia’s tone was polite but firm. “We don’t need to mention it again. Harry and I have moved on, which means that you and I should, too. But thank you for apologizing,” she added.