Page 50 of The Spare

They all exchange a knowing look. This is my chance to delve deeper. I reach up to pull on the long, sleek ponytail I’m sporting tonight and clear my throat.

‘So, you and Ben. You’ve… dated?’

‘God, no.’ She looks less horrified than affronted.

‘But you have some history,’ I persist. ‘I could tell by the way he greeted you. I just’—I shrug—‘want to know what I’m up against.’

The truth is, I’m still incredibly aware that, whatever Ben’s reasons were for stepping in and marrying me, they were not because he was in love with me. Attracted, yes. In love, no. And while things are going well between us, in the bedroom, at least, I’m under no illusions that a man who was once a total fuckboy is now delighted to be stuck in a monogamous relationship.

I just wish I knew how long it would take before he got bored.

His past isn’t up for debate. His reputation precedes him and, God knows, he’s paraded enough women in front of me over the years that I’m under no illusions.

But when I come face to face with said past in the form of a woman as staggeringly beautiful and accomplished as Athena Sullivan, no matter that she’s married, it has every last badly buried insecurity flocking to the surface.

Another knowing look passes between the three of them as I take a desperate mouthful of champagne, psyching myself up for her answer.

‘What you need to know about Athena,’ Sophia cuts in, ‘is that she’s a dirty bitch.’

Her words almost make me spit out my champagne, but Athena looks unperturbed by this slander. ‘Not untrue.’

‘So you’ve been with him,’ I press. I need to know what I’m dealing with here. Facts I can handle. Well, no—I can’t handle them, but I have a better chance with the facts themselves than with the endless hours I’ll face later of spiralling and creating more and more far-fetched scenarios in my head if I don’t have all the information.

She makes a face as if trying to work out how to proceed.

‘Yes, but it’s not what you think,’ she says finally.

‘It’s a really good story.’ Sophia shimmies her golden shoulders in delight—she has a great tan—while Marlowe presses her lips together in an attempt not to laugh.

‘It was a group situation,’ Athena continues crisply. ‘Me and several guys.’ She sighs. ‘Your husband MCed the whole thing, essentially, and I jerked him off with my hand while another guy fucked me. But I was blindfolded, so technically speaking, I haven’t seen his dick.’

I stare at her. I’m pretty sure the only time I’ve been this lost for words in my life was when Xavier dumped me—and then when Ben proposed, come to think of it. But I’m struggling here, struggling to comprehend the words coming out of this incomparable woman’s lovely mouth.

‘You’ve broken her,’ Sophia says gleefully. ‘Go easy on her, darling. Not everyone is as depraved as you.’

‘As us, you mean,’ Athena says without missing a beat.

‘I definitely don’t understand,’ I manage. It comes out strangled.

‘When I first met Gabe, I was working as his executive assistant,’ she says. ‘But we were… Let’s just say we were fucking.’

I clear my throat and nod, trying to stay cool—on the surface, at least. I’ve always considered myself worldly, but sexually I’m most definitely not worldly, and I’m completely out of my depth here.

‘He knew how much I loved orgies, so he organised one for my birthday. Biggest surprise of my life. He used to be a priest, you see, so I never thought he’d be up for that.’

I blink and nod again. ‘Umm-hmm,’ I say politely. My face is flooding with heat.

‘He called me into a conference room,’ she continues. ‘My safe word was up on the screen, and there were a few guys in there. All hot. Your husband played MC. He called all the shots. They stripped me off and played pass the parcel.’ She pauses and makes meaningful eye contact. ‘I was the parcel,’ she says, deadpan.

I want to run for the hills. I am so excruciatingly uncomfortable. My brain is pounding in my head; my heart is hammering behind my ribs. My comfort zone this is not. And to think that Athena, the most implacable of women, likes being, what, gang-banged? It’s unthinkable. I tell myself in a panic not to judge, but I can’t help being shocked. I’ve never encountered anything like this before.

‘The parcel,’ I repeat dumbly.

‘They all had a chair, and she sat on a different dick every time the music changed,’ Sophia fills in happily. ‘Lucky bitch.’

My brain is officially broken. I just stare at Athena, who doesn’t seem bothered at all. How does she not care? How can she talk about this so openly?

‘Your husband,’ she says, ‘is a very talented man, let me tell you. He was hot as fuck in that room, controlled the whole thing. He’s very sexy—very masterful.’ She winks. She actually winks. ‘I’m sure you know this, but you’re in good hands.’