Page 8 of The Spare

Her mouth sets in a thin line before she turns to the tray. I think I’ve hurt her.

‘Come on, Slinks. It’s no disparagement to either one of you. You guys looked great on paper, but you just… wouldn’t have been happy together. I’m not condoning the way he’s handled all this—he should have called it off years ago—but I do think you’re better off without him.’

She scoffs as she perches on the edge of an armchair so she can serve the coffee. ‘Yes, well, that’s easy for you to say as an onlooker, and it’s easy for him, because he gets to waltz off into the sunset with his little girlfriend. But here I am, with an entire wedding to cancel and looking like a total laughingstock.’ She looks up at me. ‘National humiliation. International. As soon as word gets out that we’ve cancelled, everyone will jump to conclusions, and we all know they’ll be the right ones. Xavier dumped me. He may as well have jilted me at the altar. I’ve committed to this match for my entire life, and when push came to shove, I wasn’t good enough.’ Her beautiful light brown eyes shine with emotion, and when she speaks again, her voice is shaky. ‘And everyone hates me. The entire country thinks I’m a smug, stuck-up bitch, so they’ll be so happy to watch me fall. They’ll come for me with their pitchforks.’ She drops her head. ‘Oh my God, I want to die.’

I stand there, frozen, for a moment. I’m aghast at her devastation, horrified to see she’s hurting so deeply that she’s let me see behind the mask. Selena never lets anyone see behind the mask. And, if I’ve had any doubts as to the wisdom of this stunt I’m about to pull, they all fade to nothing in the face of her abject misery.

‘Yeah, well, I have a much better plan,’ I say.

She doesn’t look up at me but stays hiding behind that curtain of hair. ‘What’s that?’ she asks flatly.

From my jacket pocket, I pull the ring she’s worn for the last decade. The ring my brother gave her; the one she threw back in his face yesterday. It’s heavy in my shaking hand. I sink to one knee in front of her so I can tip her chin up with my fingertips. Her sweet little mouth is quivering, those hazel eyes huge and pained as she gazes up at me.

This is it.

God help me.

I hold up the ring. ‘Marry me instead.’

CHAPTER 4

Selena

He’s on one knee. Oh my God, he’s on one knee, and he’s holding up my ring, and he has those big green de Vere eyes fixed on me, and I can’t breathe.

When Xavier proposed, it was very charming and highly choreographed. We all spilled out onto the velvety lawns of Belvedere at midnight on his twenty-first, hundreds of us in white tie and gowns, like something out of a Vettriano painting. Xavier made a little speech, and then he called me to him, where he dropped to one knee and proposed with this ring.

It was a formality, but it was also a spectacle: a public declaration of intent. As he pushed the ring onto my finger (we’d already had it sized) and stood so he could respectfully, fleetingly, kiss me on my mouth, I remember floating above myself, watching the entire scene as if I was one of the other girls in the crowd. I witnessed the moment, but I wasn’t really in it.

Now, as I take in the ring and the uncharacteristic expression of seriousness, of sincerity, on Benedict’s handsome face, the only sounds our breaths and the crackling fire, I feel very much in the moment.

But, of course, I’d do well to remember that this proposal is every bit as much of a charade as Xavier’s was.

Every bit.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I say, jerking my chin away from his hand and pushing back on my chair, my panic harshening my voice. I need to put some space between us. I’m seriously fragile this morning, the horror of Xavier’s actions and my reactions seared into my brain.

I can’t believe he did that.

I can’t believe I lost my shit and yelled at him.

And I’m still equally mortified at having been dumped and having had such an epic meltdown in my bedroom afterwards.

So, yeah. Feeling like I’m made of glass today, and a phonily perky proposal from Benedict won’t help a jot.

He stays where he is. ‘I’m not. It’s a really good plan. Genius, actually.’

‘Of course it is. Except for the part where the press eviscerates me for being shafted by one de Vere and bailed out by another.’ Oh my Lord, the mortification of it. The thought of it is the trigger my body needs to conjure up yesterday’s activation levels again, humiliation washing over me in great, scorching waves. ‘Besides,’ I say, my panic making me spit out the words, ‘no one would ever believe that you’d want to settle down, least of all with me. You’re the biggest tart I know.’

I regret the words as soon as I utter them, true though they may be.

Something washes over his face, but it’s gone before I know it. Still, he holds the ring up. ‘Not true. Everyone knows I’ve always wanted you, Slinks. I don’t exactly try to hide it.’ He slides a hand over my thigh, his skin warm through my jeans. As he does, he glances down my body and back up to my face, and there’s something brazen about it. Challenging. ‘I’d be more than happy to lock this down.’

It’s imperative I remind myself that this is Ben’s MO. He’s very good at getting what he wants with women. Very good. He knows exactly what effect his words, his looks, have on people. I think sometimes he almost believes them himself, in the moment, anyway, and that’s precisely what makes him so dangerous.

‘There’s a difference between wanting someone and wanting to marry them,’ I say to remind myself as much as him.

‘Very true.’ He grins suddenly. ‘But it’s a good start, and it’s a damn sight more than you had with my brother.’