Page 35 of Gilded Gods

He doesn’t say all that much, even when he does speak. But I like hearing his deep voice. It reminds me of the feeling I get when waves crash on the beach. A little shiver races over me.

“Would you like a glass of champagne?” Layla asks us.

“That would be lovely.” Athena smiles. “We’ll each have a glass.”

“None for me,” Atlas says.

“Darling, it’s a special day. Live a little.”

He rolls his eyes, keeping his coveted book at his side, which only makes me long for the day when I see more of his sketches. “It’s eleven o’clock on a Tuesday, Ma. I have to work later.”

Atlas owns The River Styx, a local watering hole on the South Side.

“Nonsense,” Athena groans. “You’ll have one glass with us to celebrate.”

I remember Athena being a little extra, but until she moved into my house, I hadn’t realized how much of a pain in the ass she could be.

Was all of that an act?

Is this the real Athena?

ChapterTwenty

OPHELIA

Layla returnswith a tray of champagne flutes and hands one to each of us. Atlas begrudgingly accepts the glass. I take one—because why not? I might as well get drunk enough to forget this day ever happened.

We clink our glasses together and drink. My dad is marrying Mom’s best friend. I repeat the words in my head several times as I down the champagne in one gulp. I’m so angry with my father that I see red. Black dots swim across my eyes, making it harder to see. My chest hurts, and I don’t understand why.

Everything hurts.

My head spins.

I see more dots.

Atlas wraps his fingers around my wrist. “Ophelia.”

I hear him.

See him.

I blink.

His long fingers brush my skin. “If you squeeze any tighter, you’ll shatter the glass.”

My eyes lower to our joined hands, and I see what he means. The color is drained from my right hand.

Fuck.

Get it together, O.

“Are you okay?” Atlas peels the flute from my hand. “You look like you’re about to explode.”

“Huh?” I blink a few times and focus on his eyes, which calms down my racing heart. “I’m fine.”

Athena is busy talking to Layla about the wedding and sharing her plans. I could give a rat’s ass about the details of herspecialday.

“You don’t look fine.” Atlas sets our glasses on the table and guides me toward a plush couch. He forces me to sit and drops to the cushion beside me. “Take a deep breath, Ophelia.”

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