45. Natalie

45

NATALIE

I have to talk to my brother. This… thing with Adam is consuming me so rapidly, so ardently, that I’m going up in flames. I don’t stand a chance at withstanding his onslaught.

If it was purely physical, I could walk away. (I couldn’t, actually, but I’d like to think I had more of a chance of withstanding him that way.) But it’s not.

It’s everything.

Every moment, every gesture.

It’s the way he comes to fetch me after every single Alchemy shift, even though his chef Kamyl let slip the other day that he’s usually early to bed and early to rise.

It’s the quiet times when I’m draped over him in his beautiful library and we’re both reading.

It’s his obsession with getting Kamyl to concoct the most delicious high-protein meals and snacks for me with slow-release carbs aplenty.

It’s the hours and hours he’s spent pouring over Gossamer’s numbers over the past fortnight, grilling me on the most random points and making suggestions that are utterly brilliant and incredibly helpful.

Last night, he spent the entire car journey home from Alchemy quizzing me on the price of printing on silk habotai for various meterages, and he introduced me to Claudette from Elysian via email the day we visited his offices. I met up with her earlier this week, and we hit it off right from the start. She loved the mockups Carrie did of our prints on her signature yoga pants and crop tops, and I think this could turn into an actual collaboration. It’s a dream come true.

He’s a dream come true.

The thing I can’t square in my mind is the reality of this kind, brilliant man I’m falling so hard for with the outdated but entirely justified view my family has of the monster who put Stephen in hospital and derailed his life. I’ve come around because I gave him a chance, took the time to get to know him. But how can I possibly ask them to do the same?

Before I speak to my brother, I’ll sound out my mum, I decide. She’s the calmest, the softest, of all of us. She tends to look for and find the best in people. Maybe she can advise me.

Maybe I can get her to fill Stephen in on the fact that I’m falling for the man he hates while I quietly escape to the other side of the world.

But before I speak to Mum, I’ll chat to the girls. I owe them an update, especially my lovely boss, and they tend to be cool and non-judgemental in a way other people in my life are not.

They also may be more impartial than Evan, whose giant boner for Adam has him shipping us so hard I swear I might find myself at the top of the aisle.

We meet up at an ancient but fantastic pizzeria in Mayfair before Alchemy opens, and it’s no understatement to say I’ve been looking forward to this all day . While I’m endlessly grateful to Adam and Kamyl for respectively obsessing over my needs and creating the most delicious meals for me, sometimes a girl just needs a fucking pizza. So when Dr Wright isn’t around, I go big.

Even if managing the blood glucose requirements for metabolising pizza is a gigantic pain in the arse. I’ve increased my basal dose of insulin today—that’s the low, longer-lasting stream that works away in the background, processing glucose when I’m not actually eating. I’ll increase my bolus dose too, right before I eat.

What can I say? It’ll be worth it. Every bite will be sublime. Pizza may not be the ultimate health food, but God knows, it’s good for the soul.

After a hearty toast to the absent Belle, who’s due to pop any day now, our evening begins with a discussion of the opening party for Alchemy’s swanky New York outpost in a couple of weeks. Maddy’s not going. She claims to want to stick around for Belle, but I suspect she’s staying for the baby cuddles. It’ll be good practice for her, I suppose. At six months pregnant, she’s glowing and gorgeous.

Gen and Anton will be flying in, and she says Cal and Aida will, too. It makes sense—not only is Cal Alchemy’s events manager, but he’s not one to miss a party. Darcy, Max and Dex are also going.

‘Max has booked a suite at the Aman,’ Darcy says with glee. ‘We’re going to make a few days of it and combine it with some Christmas shopping. Oh my God, I’m so excited! I can’t wait! I’ve never been to New York—can you believe it?’

‘Me neither,’ I say. ‘You’re going to have the best time!’ I’m genuinely thrilled for her, but I can’t help but feel a shameful pang of envy at the thought of Darcy strolling down Fifth Avenue with an adoring man on each arm. Adam’s been consistently incredible, but he’s made no mention of New York at all.

Surely he’s planning on going? He is the brand new part-owner of Alchemy’s overseas operations, after all, and the opening of the New York flagship is a biggie.

Maybe he’ll go without me?

The thought of it makes me feel physically sick: Adam in some glamorous Manhattan sex club, all tall and gorgeous and commanding, the glossy women of New York fawning over his model-grade looks and British accent, begging him to exercise that twitchy palm that he won’t unleash on me.

Ugh ugh ugh.

‘You all right, babes?’ Maddy says. ‘You’re white as a sheet.’

‘I’m fine,’ I say hastily. ‘Just hungry.’

I don’t miss the panicked look the others share. Ever since my hypo at work, they’ve treated me like an unexploded bomb.

‘Let’s order, then,’ Gen says, waving a waiter over.

We order and request some bread and olive oil while we wait. When a basket of focaccia squares swimming in oil arrives, I mentally calculate the additional insulin I’ll need. This stuff looks delicious.

After stuffing a couple of wedges of focaccia soaked in the most delicious, peppery olive oil in my mouth, I begin to relax. Gen talks about the silver flapper gown she’s picking up from Alexander McQueen next week for the speakeasy-themed opening party. It sounds dreamy. McQueen is one of her go-to brands—she adores all the hidden corsetry it offers, not that she needs it. Her curves are spectacular. I’d kill for boobs and hips like hers .

Adam loves your small boobs, a little voice reminds me. He adores how delicate you are. He tells you all the time.

It’s true. He’s not one to hold back on the compliments. I may not be anywhere near as voluptuous or goddess-like as Gen, but I have never, ever felt so desired as when Adam Wright’s skilful hands and worshipful gaze are on my body. I sip my lemon-flavoured San Pellegrino and watch with amusement as Gen and Darcy knock back their first glasses of Tuscan red. They must be thirsty.

It reminds me that Adam has never drunk in front of me. I know he drinks—he has a well-stocked, glass-fronted wine alcove-thingy in the kitchen, and he’s tasted of whisky or wine a couple of times when he’s gone out for work dinners before picking me up from Alchemy, but he’s never so much as cracked open a beer in my presence.

He must refrain because he knows I steer clear of alcohol.

The thought of it is a rush of warmth to my heart, and it emboldens me. New York isn’t important. It’s the countless small but thoughtful gestures that he makes every single day that are important.

‘Actually, I have some news,’ I confess once our pizzas have been served. My quattro formaggi is steaming in front of me, and I can’t resist picking up a slice and taking the most enormous bite before I resume. Jesus Christ, that mouthful of carbs and cheese is the best taste in the world. Maybe I should just pump myself full of insulin and subsist on pizza all day, every day. Adam can shove his black beans up his arse.

The others exchange a look that’s knowing and not a little smug .

‘What?’ I demand.

‘If you’re planning on coming clean about Adam Wright, it’s not exactly news,’ Maddy says. ‘Just saying. Fuck, this baby is a whore for simple carbs.’ With that, she shovels a good half of her slice of pizza into her mouth and groans theatrically.

I can relate, and I’m not even eating for two.

‘Really?’ I ask now, my gaze darting between them. ‘How come?’

‘You’ve been terribly quiet on the whole front since you last updated me,’ Gen says gently, ‘and given how vocal you are about him when you dislike him, I wondered if the quietness spoke volumes. Besides, Ben came clean to me a couple of weeks ago that Adam asked him for a private room for the two of you.’

I gasp. ‘Oh my God, that’s so mortifying.’

‘What?!’ Maddy squeals. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!’

She aims that at Gen, who fixes her with the iciest of glares. ‘It’s called client discretion. Nat and Adam are entitled to their privacy at Alchemy just as much as anyone else.’ She turns back to me. ‘I would have checked in with you, but you’ve seemed very happy this past couple of weeks, so I let it slide.’

I shut my eyes in mortification, but they fly open when Darcy hits me on the arm.

‘Oh my God. Did you have all the hate sex? We told you you should, didn’t we?’

I groan and screw up my face. ‘Um… kind of?’

Maddy pushes her enormous pizza plate away so she can put her elbows on the table and glare at me.

‘Spill it, Bennett. All of it. Now .’