Chapter Twenty-Eight Aphrodite
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Aphrodite
Aphrodite was in the garden, pretending to study the water that gurgled from a marble fountain.
Back on the terrace, a mere twenty yards away, guests drifted by in a brightly colored blur.
The low hum of their conversation had grown louder as everyone moved on to their second or third cocktail.
And these were regular drinks, not even spiked by Dionysus—at least, as far as Aphrodite could tell.
Footsteps sounded down the walk, and Aphrodite looked up, unsurprised to see Julia marching toward her.
“Julia! How is your night going? You look beautiful!” Aphrodite reached out to play with the silk of Julia’s dress, well aware that the mortal would find it annoying.
Irritatingly, Julia did look beautiful, even if she was wearing a dress that Tara had clearly selected: a white silk thing with a high neck and long sleeves. Aphrodite suspected that it was from one of the British designers’ “mature” lines.
Julia pushed her hand away. “How did you do it?” she demanded.
“I’m sorry?” Aphrodite asked, though she knew perfectly well what she was being accused of.
She had summoned the ghosts of Julia’s past to wreak havoc on her future.
Aphrodite had been irritated when the photos of Julia’s sloppy night out never surfaced.
She’d called the Sun for a reason, knowing that Hera had relationships with all the other news sources in town.
But she should have known by now that there was no limit to the Ellene influence.
Hera must have paid off the tabloid or found some other way to ensure the photos never made it to print.
At least she’d already set her other plan in motion.
When she’d called Senator Hayes’s office, Aphrodite had posed as an Ellene family assistant, asking if the senator planned to attend the engagement party this week.
“Oh, the invitation never arrived?” Aphrodite had asked apologetically.
“I’m so sorry, can we fly the senator to London to make up for the error?
Perhaps his family would like to join as well? ”
The senator hadn’t even taken her up on the free flight. Perhaps he’d hoped the invitation presaged a donation for his next campaign, or perhaps he, like everyone else, simply wanted a chance to be near the elusive, legendary Ellenes.
Whatever the reason, he had shown up, and brought his feckless son with him. Thus ruining Julia’s big night.
“Preston,” Julia hissed. “How did you know to bring him here? Did you pay the waitress at the Four Seasons to spy on me and Abby?”
I was Abby, Aphrodite thought, though a part of her was reluctantly impressed that Julia had figured it out.
“You mean the senator and his son? I’m afraid I just met them tonight,” she replied.
Julia ignored her. “Whatever you thought you might accomplish by bringing Preston here, it didn’t work. I’m not going to cry about him, or fight with Harry, or cause a scene.”
“I’d say you’re causing a scene now,” Aphrodite remarked crisply, an eyebrow raised.
“You should know that Preston is ancient history. He can’t do anything to hurt me, not anymore.”
Julia’s voice shook a little with that last declaration, as if she were trying to convince herself as much as Aphrodite.
Oh, how wrong she was. The people you had once loved—even the ones who didn’t deserve that love, even the ones who betrayed you—forever held some measure of control over you.
That was the inherent risk in giving your heart away.
For some reason, Aphrodite thought of Hephaestus then. Of all the ways she’d hurt him, as Preston had done to Julia.
She shook her head and turned back to the mortal. “Why don’t we get you some water? I think maybe you should slow down on the cocktails, hmm?”
“I don’t want water. I want you to admit what you did.” Julia said it softly, but the words thrummed with anger.
Aphrodite gave what she hoped was a sympathetic sigh. “Do you hear yourself? Your accusations are completely irrational.”
“No, what’s irrational is that you slept with your husband’s brother, and yet you have the nerve to act like I’m the one who doesn’t belong here!
You really think that you can intimidate me into leaving?
” Julia challenged. “Guess what? Even if I’m gone, Harry won’t choose you.
You can’t have both brothers, Valentine. ”
The nerve of this mortal.
“I don’t want Harry. But I do want you gone.”
Julia crossed her arms over her chest, seemingly pleased that they were fighting at last, instead of playing at being nice. “What did I ever do to you?”
“I’m trying to warn you,” Aphrodite insisted. “You should get out now, before things get ugly. You’ll never make the cut. A girl who worked on a cruise line, who dances on tables?”
At that, Julia’s eyes narrowed.
“Oh my god. You’re the one who alerted the paparazzo, aren’t you? Were you following us?”
Aphrodite didn’t respond.
“I can’t believe it. You’re just like Preston,” Julia said slowly. “You’re all the same: manipulative, selfish, careless of other people. You disgust me.”
“If that’s what you think, then why do you want to join this family?”
“I’m not sure I do.”
“You can’t have it both ways, Julia,” Aphrodite said softly. “You can’t be with Harry and not be a part of all this. It’s all or nothing.”
“Harry is not the same as the rest of you. He and I will do things differently—”
“Do you hear yourself?” Aphrodite gave a bitter laugh. “You’ve already moved to New York so that he can be close to his family again. What makes you think that the sacrifices will stop after you’re married? When you met Harry, he was running away because of what he did.”
“Because of what you both did,” Julia said, correcting her.
“And which of us stayed and faced the consequences?” Aphrodite asked ruthlessly.
“Your fiancé did the same thing as always: he fucked up, then ran away. That’s who you’re marrying.
But now he’s back, because that’s the other thing Harry always does.
He comes home. He will always choose his family, every time. ”
Julia’s cheeks went pale, and she sagged a little, as if the fight had drained out of her.
“You can think whatever you want about me; I don’t care,” Aphrodite went on, dealing the killer blow. “But be honest with yourself about Harry, and what your life will look like once you become an Ellene.”
Julia seemed like she was about to say something; then she shook her head and walked off.
“I’m sorry,” Aphrodite called out after her, though she didn’t feel sorry in the slightest. As one of her favorite poets had written, all was fair in love and war.