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Or... maybe she isn’t his former anything? Perhaps they continued their relationship. What do I know about Maia? Nothing. For that matter, I know very little about Jayson’s personal life. He’s never shown it to me. Until this trip, he’s been mostly occupied with work.
My stomach turns and I look away from them, randomly walking up to another group. They’re gossiping, so I tune them out and focus on the rim of my glass, until one of the women says Maia’s name.
“Disgraceful,” says another woman.
Maybe it’s the champagne or maybe it’s just morbid curiosity, but before I can stop myself I ask, “Why is she disgraceful?”
“Her husband was barely dead before she was on the hunt for another one,” says a woman with an English accent. “There is more than speculation that she was looking before Stavros died. And besides, he was much older than she was, so his death wasn’t exactly unexpected.”
Nodding despite myself, I’m surprised to hear them condemning the other woman. These kinds of actions aren’t unheard of among their circles.
“Everyone thought she had her claws in Salus Valokis.”
“Many women breathed a sigh of relief,” interjects a stunning Greek woman in her mid-forties, who looks like she’s never had to worry about competing for men’s attention.
“Until he married his assistant without a hint of warning,” says the Englishwoman, who was sporting a wedding ring set with a diamond the size of an ice cube.
“Seems like she’s on the hunt again.” They cluck and shake their heads.
I hide a grimace by turning to take another glass of champagne from a waiter, who holds out a silver tray and then moves on.
“It’s disgraceful how she continues to pursue Salus,” says the older Greek woman.
As one, all the women turn their gazes to Maia, who is still talking to Jayson. “Maybe she has found a new victim,” says the Englishwoman.
The older woman shakes her head. “There is nothing new about that victim, Liv. Jayson Satyros and Maia were once engaged.”
I choke on my sip of champagne.
“My dear, are you all right?” asks the older woman.
I nod. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“I pity his wife,” says the youngest woman. “He keeps her hidden away, and now he is openly humiliating her with his ex-fiancée.”
The Englishwoman scoffs. “I hardly think he’s humiliating his wife by talking to someone he knows.”
“Perhaps, Liv, you still don’t fully understand our ways,” says the older woman, not unkindly. “Many Greek husbands are philanderers, and Greek wives are expected to turn a blind eye. Look at those two and tell me their conversation is perfectly innocent.”
Trying to detach my perceptions from the equation, I eye my husband and the other woman as impassively as possible. Maia leans in close to Jayson, her hand on his shoulder possessively. While Jayson doesn’t appear to be as eager to touch her, he’s definitely not backing away.
“Excuse us. We’re being terribly rude to discuss this in front of you without the benefit of proper introductions,” says the third woman suddenly, turning to look at me. “I am Sophie Russo. This is Calista Kakos,” she says, gesturing to the older woman, “and Olivia Volakis.”
The Englishwoman extends the hand with the heavy rings. “It’s actually Harcourt-Volakis, and I prefer Liv.”
I take her hand, putting off the moment where I must reveal my identity as the wife to be pitied. “Are you related to Salus?”
She nods, sending waves of black hair rippling around her face. “I’m married to his brother, Ioseph.”
Aware that they’re waiting for my name, I release Liv’s hand, take a long drink of champagne, and say, “My name is Harper Satyros. I’m the wife of Jayson Satyros.” As the other women gasp and quickly look away in their discomfort, I drain the glass of champagne and stroll away, hoping I look half as composed as I strive to, instead of revealing the tattered mass of nerves I am on the inside.
Seeking sanctuary in a tiny but exquisite powder room, I lock the door and lean against the counter. It feels impossible to process what I’ve learned and to restore my calm. I shouldn’t feel so betrayed that Jayson never told me about the engagement. Ours isn’t a normal marriage, so I have no right to be upset at such a revelation.
Or to feel jealous seeing the two of them together.
Meeting my eyes in the mirror, my lips tighten.
However. I am entitled to respect and to be treated like his wife in public. Humiliating me was never part of the deal. Sure, he hasn’t yet crossed any big lines of impropriety, but Jayson is dancing at the edge. That much is clear from the conversation I came upon. It crosses my mind to saunter back into the party to Jayson and Maia, thread my arms around Jayson, and kiss him senseless, just to remind everyone exactly who he’s married to.
