Page 90 of Ungodly Rich

Aphrodite

There weren’t many places in Manhattan that Aphrodite feared to visit, but the Doubles Club was one of them.

It was a door behind a door behind a door, a private members’ club that had catered for decades to the Upper East Side social set. Aphrodite was far more comfortable in glamorous settings, low-lit back rooms where models and fashion designers drank craft cocktails while wearing graphic tees and smoking vape pens. None of those things, graphic tees or vape pens or craft cocktails, were present at the Doubles Club. It was all Burgundy wines and bow ties, full of members with names like Muffy and Daisy and George.

Aphrodite stared for a moment at the unmarked door, painted a deep claret color. Then she drew in a breath and started reluctantly down the staircase to the basement club.

She had done her best to dress the part, wearing a black-and-white houndstooth silk blouse that tied with a bow at the neck and a matching pencil skirt. Very demure and buttoned-up and not at all Aphrodite. Hopefully Hera would notice that she was trying.

That was precisely why Aphrodite had ventured here, into the land of pearls and headbands and—ugh—Chanel No. 5. She needed to talk to Hera about Julia, who was becoming a far bigger thorn in her side than Aphrodite could have imagined.

She hadn’t expected the woman to stay after Olympus, let alone after what happened at the engagement party in London. But inexplicably, Julia was still moving forward with this wedding to Ares.

The final straw had come last week, when Julia marched into Hera and Zeus’s penthouse for the cake tasting, dressed like a fashion plate and staring daggers at Aphrodite. It was clear enough that the outfit, and the glare, were a challenge.

Julia was declaring war.

Well, that mortal didn’t know what she was up against.

The entrance hall of the Doubles Club was hung with old nineteenth-century Parisian cartoons, which depicted men smoking pipes, men holding monocles, men wearing cravats. The only female figure was a circus performer in a leotard walking across a tightrope.

No one had ever claimed that these sorts of clubs celebrated women. Even if the ladies who lunch all jostled for invitations here.

Aphrodite gave Hera’s name to the maître d’, and cast a bit of magic toward him for good measure, filling him with a sudden urge to help her. He smiled and eagerly ushered her into the dining room.

Hera was seated at a table near the wall, surrounded by a group of mortal women. They all looked the same in their Oscar de la Renta dresses and Chanel jackets, all picking at salmon salads or cups of vichyssoise. The only thing at the table that they seemed to be consuming with any enthusiasm was the bottle of Sancerre.

For a moment, Aphrodite was overcome by an uncharacteristic wave of loneliness. There had been a time, long ago, when she hoped that she and Hera might do this: linger at lunch, exchanging stories, bonding.

Then she’d had an affair with Ares, and Hera’s attitude toward her—which could hardly have been described as warm—had devolved into outright hostility. Hera never said anything cruel in front ofHephaestus, but it didn’t matter. Aphrodite knew perfectly well what her mother-in-law thought about her.

The more pressing question, Aphrodite reminded herself, was how she felt about Julia.

Though Hera was going through all the motions, planning an elaborate wedding as if she welcomed Julia with open arms, Aphrodite had started to doubt her mother-in-law’s sincerity. She knew that Hera would never dream of rejecting Ares’s fiancée outright. No, Hera would plan their wedding as if she reallydidapprove, while simultaneously, and discreetly, working to derail it.

As she approached the table, Aphrodite pasted a smile on her lips, only for that smile to falter at the expression on Hera’s face. The maître d’ must have realized his error, since he turned quickly back toward the host stand.

Aphrodite stood her ground. At last, Hera acknowledged her.

“Can I help you with something?” she demanded, not bothering to make introductions. Aphrodite knew that these mortal women had no idea about the affair—Hera would never have dreamed of sharing something so scandalous—but she doubted that Hera’s feelings toward her were a secret.This is the daughter-in-law,their pointed glances seemed to say. The one she can’t stand.

Aphrodite smiled as sweetly as she could. “I was hoping you might grant me a moment of your time.” She had phrased it using the old words, as a supplication. Something the other goddess couldn’t ignore.

Hera gave a beleaguered sigh. “We were just finishing. Why don’t you and I find someplace to talk.” She stood abruptly and headed for another door in the corner, one that led to a small, private room with a table that seated ten. The sort of place that members might rent out for birthdays, or that the club might use for wine tastings.

As soon as the door was shut behind them, Hera whirled on Aphrodite. “You have some nerve, showing up like this atmyclub. How did you even know I was here?”

Because you always have lunch here on Thursdays. You’re a creature of habit,Aphrodite thought.

“I need to discuss something with you,” she said instead. “I thought of trying to find you at home, but…”

But Hera would have turned her away. Aphrodite never came to the penthouse unless she was accompanied by Hephaestus—unless both women were pretending, for his sake, that all was fine between them.

Hera’s expression darkened, so Aphrodite played her final card. “I told Hephaestus I was having lunch with you today. He was excited to hear it.”

As it happened, this was true. Things had changed between Aphrodite and Hephaestus since London, when she’d sent that late-nightI miss youtext. Hephaestus had begun eating with her at work, and she’d found she looked forward to it. Hephaestus would call her office line every morning and ask what she wanted, then have his assistant set up their takeout in the large seating area adjacent to his office. As they ate, he asked about her day, helped her think through various problems the beauty department was facing.

“I’m actually meeting your mother at lunch today,” Aphrodite had explained when he called this morning. Hephaestus had seemed delighted at the news.