Page 69 of Untether

‘I hear you, mate,’ Zach says, exhaling heavily. ‘I feel so guilty about that too. It tears me apart, actually. I mean, Maddy’s living with me and the girls so she ends up acting like a de facto stepmum, and it kills me. As you say, they’re so young. I kick her out the door to go and have fun as much as I can, but she says it’s what she wants, and she talks about babies incessantly. I just hope I haven’t totally ruined her youth. But I get it, I really do.’

‘Stop it, you two, you hear me?’ Gen says. ‘I have never seen two young women more in love than Maddy and Belle are with you two old fools. So, for God’s sake, stop worrying and give them a little credit to know what they want. I agree with Cal. They’re lucky to have found such happiness so early on. Anton tells me his biggest regret is that he didn’t meet me earlier, and I honestly feel the same. So go forth and marry them, and knock them up, and build beautiful families with them, and for fuck’s sake allow yourselves to be happy.’

‘Hear, hear,’ I echo emotionally. ‘You’ve got this, mate. She loves you. She wants this. Go and woo your girl.’

‘Right,’ he mutters. ‘I’ve got this. Fuck, I’m terrified.’

‘You’ll all drop like flies,’ I predict. ‘This time next year, all three of you will be married.’

‘And Gen will have four step kids,’ Zach says with a cheeky side eye at Gen. We all giggle like schoolboys,because Gen’s never made any secret of her total lack of interest in ever having children.

She doesn’t deny that marriage is on the cards. I suspect the Big Bad Wolff has made his intentions clear already. When he wants something, Anton Wolff does not mess about. Instead she says, ‘Well, at least they’re all sixteen and over. And the Terrible Twins live with their mother, so it could be worse.’

‘God help them, getting landed with a wicked stepmother,’ Rafe drawls, and I snigger.

‘She’ll be the wickedest.’

Gen glares at me. ‘You. Don’t you have some fuckboy grovelling to do? Get out of here. And you’d better take your best flower game, too.’

I don’t need to be told twice.

44

AIDA

My attempt at shifting into BBC mode isn’t exactly helped by the tenderness between my legs. I can barely sit down—I feel like I cycled the entire Tour de France.

Is it weird that I don’t hate it? That it feels like a badge of honour? The same goes for the red lines on my wrists where I pulled a little too hard on my cuffs in the throes of passion.

I’m in a meeting with myCentre Stageproducer, Rory, talking on Zoom with two of our researchers who are based at our headquarters in Manchester about a special programme on immigration we’re planning for next month. It’ll be a panel discussion, and our researchers are busy vetting the participants. It happens more often than I’d like that people with inflammatory social media profiles slip through the net. I don’t want to give a national platform to anyone who doesn’t merit it.

My phone pings quietly on the table, and I glance down.

It’s from Cal.

CAL: Hi. Can we talk? Any chance I can come see you?

I close my eyes for a moment, which is a mistake,because it gives the filthy montage that’s been haunting me all day a blank screen to play on.

That fucking mask.

It was just a goddamn mask! Why the hell did it make me so feral? I’m a grown woman who has won actual prizes for her reportage, but put a ripped as fuck guy with a cheap-ass face covering on his knees in front of me and I am a total fucking disaster.

My poor, swollen pussy pulses at the memory of his head between my legs against that pillar, and I don’t hate the pain. Jesus fuck, that was hot.

As was every single thing he did after he made me see stars.

‘Excuse me a moment,’ I tell Rory and the guys on Zoom and pick up my phone.

ME: Hey. I’m at the BBC for most of the day but if you can swing by the Television Centre we can talk. I’ll be free in an hour.

He replies immediately.

CAL: Great. I’ll swing by at 11 xx

ME: OK x

I put my phone face down and attempt to refocus my brain on how the fuck this country can do right by the people who are seeking refuge on our shores every day.

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