Page 69 of Ungodly Rich

Julia followed her friend’s gaze and blinked.

No, it was impossible. Surely Preston Hayes, her college boyfriend, wasn’t at herengagement party.

“Who is that woman he brought?” Abby demanded.

Julia shook her head, still reeling. “That’s not his date; that’s Valentine. She’s married to Harry’s brother.”

Valentine looked impossibly beautiful, almost ethereal, in a flowy dress with an uneven hemline. As if she heard them talking, she turned to stare directly at Julia, an eyebrow raised mockingly.

Could Valentineknow,somehow, about Julia’s history with Preston? What if she’d brought him here to mess with Julia—as a challenge, as an attack?

But that was impossible. Julia hadn’t even toldHarryabout Preston.

“He’s going to meet your future in-laws,” Abby warned as Preston started toward the Ellenes. Belatedly, Julia realized that Preston was accompanied by his father, a genial and red-faced man wearing an American-flag pin on his lapel.

Julia cursed under her breath. “Sorry, I have to go handle…whatever that is.”

She arrived in time to hear Bruce exclaim, “Senator Hayes! How lovely for you to join us this evening.”

The senator nodded. “It was no trouble at all. When your assistant called a few days ago and explained the error, I was all too happy for an excuse to get across the pond. I hate DC this time of year,” he added bluntly. “And while I’m grateful that you were willing to fly us over, you know I can’t accept corporate gifts of that nature.”

“Of course,” Bruce replied, though something in his expression made Julia think he hadn’t known his assistant offered the senator a transatlantic flight.

“This is my son Preston,” the senator added, gesturing for Julia’s ex to step forward.

Julia’s heart thudded in her chest as Preston shook Mr. Ellene’s hand, then Harry’s. “Congratulations, man,” he said, too loudly. “Julia is a special woman.”

Harry frowned. “I’m sorry, have you met?”

“I’m Preston,” her ex said, as if that should explain everything.

Julia stepped in hastily. “Preston and I went to Harvard together,” she explained, before Preston could divulge their past. She was aware of Abby bobbing along in her peripheral vision, probably trying to decide whether to intervene.

“Harry’s sister Alina went to Harvard, too,” Julia offered, trying to draw Preston away from Harry. “I should introduce you.”

Preston refused to budge. He was still staring at Harry, trying to get the measure of him. “Alina, you said? I feel like I would have remembered an Ellene overlapping with us.”

This was surreal. The last time Julia had seen Preston was six years ago, when she’d gone to confront him at the Porcellian Club’s house—which club members called the Barn, as if to mock how ornate it all was. Their motto was inscribed over the front entryway,Dum vivimus vivamus.While we live, let’s live.

She’d found him sprawled on a leather couch downstairs, his arm around a girl with long hair and a short dress.

“Julia?” Preston hadn’t even bothered to shift away from the blonde nestled against him. “What are you doing here? We aren’t officially on tap, but you can grab a beer if—”

“You copied my essay.”

There was an uncertain moment of silence. Then Preston stood. “Julia, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You stole from me!” Julia insisted.

Preston laughed. It twisted his handsome face into something ugly. “I stole fromyou? You havenothingI could want.”

Seeing him now, those words echoed nastily through Julia’s brain.You havenothingI could want.

No. She wasn’t that girl anymore—the girl who’d been so desperate for approval that she’d allowed a man to use her and discard her. She had seen too much to ever be that naïve, that trusting, again.

“Harry, you were at Harvard with us too, right?” Preston went on, in that easygoing, chummy way of his. “I was a porkie.”

“A porkie,” Harry repeated flatly. Julia loved him so much in that moment, for making the term, breathlessly coveted at Harvard, sound diminished and small.