Page 99 of Audacity

‘Has Gabe actually dumped you, and has he told you the foundation’s off the table?’ Sophia wants to know.

No, he told me he loved me and I safed out on him.‘No to both, but I can read a room. This is his family’s legacy. You should have seen the way they looked at me—like I was some kind of satanic whore who’d tempted their lovely, golden son.’

On my other side, Marlowe snorts. ‘The same golden boy who left the priesthood and then hired someone to have sex with him at work. Like he’s the innocent party here.’

‘That’s between him and his family. I had them eating out of the palm of my hand, and now it’s all undone. They want this foundation to be high profile. There’s no way on earth they’ll put a woman like me in the seat.’

‘A woman like you.Wow.’ Sophia nudges me with her shoulder. ‘Okay, so I see what we’re dealing with now. I thought better of you, hon, I really did.’

I give her my best side-eye. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Did you know,’ she begins conversationally, ‘that shame is a social emotion? That means it’s learnt. It’s not inherent, like joy, or fear, or anger. That’s why sociopaths tend not to feel shame. It’s far harder for them to learn.’

‘I know it’s a social emotion. That’s why I’ve always been so contemptuous of it.’

‘Mmm-hmm. And do you know what else it is?’

‘I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.’

‘I am. If you’re feeling shame, then that’s because you’re internalisingsomeone else’s shit.Close your eyes.’

I glare at her.

‘Go on, close ‘em, bish. Okay, good. Now, imagine shame is a horrible, itchy, moth-eaten sweater, but it belongs to someone else. Got it?’

I nod against my will. I’ll go along with this charade, if only to get her off my back.

‘Right, and imagine they want to get rid of it, because who wouldn’t, so they take it off and they make you put it on. But the kicker is, they’re not getting rid of their sweater—all they’ve done is duplicate it. How does it feel?’

‘The sweater?’

‘Yeah. Describe it.’

I think. ‘It’s revolting. Scratchy. I don’t know where it’s been.’ I actually roll my shoulders in disgust. ‘I don’t want to wear it.’

‘Good. So what are you going to do? Because no one is making you keep this thing on except you.’

‘I’m going to take it off.’

‘Show me.’

I mime crossing my arms over my body and tugging the imaginary sweater off over my head.

‘And what are you going to say?’

‘I don’t want it. I won’t wear it. This isn’t my sweater.’

‘Louder.’

‘I said, it’s is not myfuckingsweater.’

CHAPTER 51

Athena

‘So you’re really not going to fight for the foundation?’ Marlowe asks, a couple of glasses of wine after our little role play. The takeaway has been decimated, and my stomach is uncomfortably bloated. Alas, heartbreak and humiliation haven’t hurt my appetite. If anything, I’ve spent this weekend eating and drinking my feelings.

‘No. It was a glimpse of the kind of thing I can set my mind to, if I think outside that very corporate box I’ve been in. I don’t ever want my role to be dependent on other people’s goodwill, though.’

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