Page 102 of Unbind

There’s a huge sigh.You have more integrity in your little finger than anyone I know, so I should never have said those things to you, and I’m so sorry, Natster. Obviously, I don’t think you’re a slut—that was a horrific thing to say to my little sister. I was just so fucking shocked.

I shift on the bench. The cold is seeping through the thick wool of my coat and chilling my bum, but the sky is clear and blue, and the park ridiculously picture-perfect, flanked as it is by elegant uptown skyscrapers. I cross my arms tightly over my chest to keep my boobs warm and sigh as I keep listening, my breath a cotton-wool cloud in the crisp air. In the distance, a busker is singing Coldplay very well indeed.

But look,my brother continues.It seems there’s a lot of shit that I wasn’t aware of and have never wanted to be made aware of. I don’t know if you remember this, but I didn’t even go to the trial, except to give evidence. Mum and Dad thought I was too fragile. So I honestly didn’t know anything about Adam’s circumstances, and frankly, I was horrified. I mean, Jesus Christ, what that family went through was beyond horrific.

He gives a little laugh.It’s funny how black and white things seem when you’re young, isn’t it? We’re so incapable of accommodating shades of grey. Obviously, there couldn’t havebeen more than one victim. Obviously, I was theonlyvictim. But Mum was pretty bloody adamant tonight. Not sure I’ve seen her so militant before. She’s very, very clear that he was a victim of circumstances as much as I was, and that he’s a seriously good guy these days.

I mean—he exhales heavily through his nostrils—I’m not sure I’m ready to buddy up to him, you know? I’ve lived with this narrative, I suppose, for want of a better word, for a long, long time. But I’d like to think I’m evolved enough to make an effort to see the good in someone if people whose judgement I trust, like you and Mum, really believe it’s there.

I let out a little sob, because God knows I needed to hear this. I needed to know that my brother might, eventually, come around to accepting the idea of his sister being with the man he’s always hated.

The same man who’s walking towards me now in the golden New York winter sunlight in his beautiful black cashmere coat, his face tight with concern for me.

The man whose face is my absolute favourite face in the world.

Look,my brother says as Adam sits down next to me, taking the lid off my hot chocolate to let it cool down,the only thing I care about is whether he’s good for you. At the end of the day, all that matters is that he’s not a violent man these days and he’ll look after you the way you deserve. And Mum seems ready to join the Church of Adam Wright, so that gives me some comfort, I suppose. So have a good trip, yeah? I’m sorry again. And maybe we can—I dunno—all meet up and have a beer or something over Christmas. Love you.

‘Are you okay?’ Adam asks me, putting his free arm carefully around me as he hands me my hot chocolate.

I remove my ear bud as I look up at him and smile. ‘Yeah.’ I nod, drinking in his face, his eyes. His everything. ‘It sounds like he’s coming around to the idea.’

‘Really?’ he asks. His voice is strained, like he can’t quite believe it.

‘Really,’ I tell him. ‘My mother can be very persuasive when she wants to be.’

‘Don’t I know it.’

I lay my head on his shoulder, the strains ofYellowand the scent of roasting chestnuts floating around us.

60

NATALIE

The theme for tonight’s opening party may beSpeakeasy, but this is ridiculous.

I regard my reflection in one of the several full-length mirrors in our suite. I packed the outfit Adam so enjoyed taking off me that very first time—my crystal-studded corset and tulle skirt—but he kiboshed that plan with a trip to Chanel down on Wooster. The result is that his net worth is at least five grand less than it was this morning and I look as close to a supermodel as I’ll ever get.

Like I said, ridiculous.

The dress is short and gold, with a square neckline, thick shoulder straps, and fluttering cascades of sequins on tulle that hide my insulin pump. It features a gold sequinned camellia on the chest and is basically the most beautiful dress I’ve ever, ever worn. I feel like Taylor Swift.

Adam had the hotel concierge sort out hair and makeup for me at a nearby salon, and my hair is a glossy curtain that’s been pinned up in a sleek ponytail. My makeup nods to the Twenties while still being sleek and modern, just the way I like it.

I can show up to Alchemy like this. I can be on the arm of one of the most eligible men on either side of the pond and feel worthy of him. I twist in front of the mirror, admiring my adorable black patent Mary Janes (also Chanel) and bending one leg, flapper girl style.

Adam comes up behind me, and I take great pleasure in eye fucking his reflection. He’s wearing a black tux that’s so beautifully cut I could weep—clearly Brioni has angels on its payroll—with a white tie. He slides his hands over my hips in a way that feels proprietary, and I shiver. I’m so worked up I could bend over for him here and now. Forget Alchemy. All I need is a bed—or a nice soft rug.

Fuck the rug. I’d ride this man on the parquet.

We haven’t had sex since yesterday morning, a fact my vagina is all too aware of. Last night, I was so jet-lagged, and so tired from touring the Frick and the Met that I passed out before he was even finished in the bathroom, and he’s refused to lay a finger on me today. Not even when we had our jet lag-busting siesta.

He says it’s more fun to ‘keep our powder dry’ for tonight.

I wholeheartedly disagree, and I remind him of our difference of opinion by grinding my arse against him.

‘You little minx.’ He grabs my ponytail and tilts my head so he can slide his lips down from just below my ear to the strap of my dress. ‘You know the more you tease me, the more intense it’ll be for you tonight, don’t you?’

‘Mmm-hmm.’ My voice is breathy, and I keep grinding. Sequins be damned. Adam has alluded more than once to having orchestrated a ‘surprise’ for me this evening, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mean his dick. I have no idea what he has planned, but I bet it’s kinky as hell.

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