Page 2 of Unbind

The guys are laughing and joking behind her as they wait. Anton, too, looks tanned and well—he’s older but ridiculously dashing—and the other guy has his back to me. He’s seriously tall, taller even than Anton, with a head of dark curls.

‘Evening, Nat,’ Gen says, laying her evening bag on the lectern as I check her and Anton in on the iPad. ‘How’s tricks?’

‘Good,’ I tell her. ‘It’s busy in there.’

‘Always happy to hear that,’ she says, peering over the lectern to get a better look at my outfit. ‘Is that acatsuit?Holy shit, it’s incredible.’

‘It is. Thanks.’ I smile happily, because a sartorial seal of approval from Gen always makes me feel better. I take a stepback and hold my arms out so she can see better. She sweeps her gaze over me approvingly.

‘Stunning. Did you make it?’

‘You know it.’

She shakes her head. ‘Bloody amazing. You clever, clever girl. Don’t be a stranger when you’re running Dior, will you?’

I smile ruefully at her ridiculous suggestion as I look down at the iPad again. ‘I wish. Just one guest tonight, is it?’

Members can sign in up to three guests each month. Their guests aren’t party to the same rigorous background checks and interviews that the members undergo, but they have to electronically sign an NDA, an acknowledgment of the code of conduct here at Alchemy, and an understanding that failure to comply with said rules can jeopardise the membership of whoever is signing them in.

In other words, if you invite someone along, you’d better be damn sure they’ll behave themselves (even ifgood behaviourat Alchemy means something quite different from its meaning at most other elegant London establishments).

‘Yep, just one,’ Gen says as I hand her the stylus and the iPad with the necessary paperwork loaded up. ‘You should meet Adam, actually. He runs a few fashion brands.’ She cranes her neck. ‘Adam, darling? Come here. We need you to sign your life away before we unleash you on all those unsuspecting women.’

He turns, and steps in beside Gen at the lectern, and oh my God.

Oh my fucking God.

It’s him.

2

NATALIE

Have you ever seen a celebrity in the flesh? I have, a few times. Mainly here. It’s always surreal, seeing the flesh-and-blood version of what you’re used to seeing as pixels. It can even be underwhelming. You know, when you can see up close just how much work they’ve had done, or when the guys are a good three or four inches shorter than their Instagram feed would have you believe.

This guy is anything but underwhelming as he towers above me, in front of me, his rich-guy cologne invading my nostrils and his very presence invading my nervous system.

Gen’s voice cuts through the tangled blur of my emotions like a speedboat through a swamp. ‘Nat?Nat.Are you okay? Are you crashing?’

I’m conscious, somewhere, of finding that mildly amusing, because, bless her, this isn’t my blood glucose.

This is something far, far worse.

I manage to shake my head as I hold onto the edge of the lectern, keeping my eyes squeezed tightly shut. My hair fallsover my face. I must look absolutely ridiculous, but it’s far better than having to look at him. I know she means well, but the heat radiating from my skin is enough to reassure anyone that this isn’t a hypoglycaemic episode.

My face is on fire, and my brain is being squeezed as if it’s being clamped. This is a rush of blood to the head the like of which I don’t think I’ve ever experienced, but I’ve never experiencedthis, either.

Coming face to face with the man who ruined my brother’s life, that is.

The man I’ve hated, resented from afar for over twenty years.

The man I’ve stabbed in my fantasies, in my dreams, over and over and over until he’s bloodied, lifeless pulp on the floor.

(Maybe that’s taking it too far. After all, we’re not all violent shits. Some of us are capable of normal levels of self-control.)

Adam Wright.

Standing right in front of me, about a foot away from me. So close I can smell him. Joking with Anton as he waits to, in Gen’s own words,unleash himself on all those unsuspecting women.

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