Unbind (Sub Rosa Series Book 1)

by Lynch, Sarah Michelle

  In Cai’s building I rode the elevator, weary and jaded, nervous and emotional too. This was it. We could be together. I wheeled my huge cases to his door and before I could knock, it was open and he was there. In his X-Men boxers.

  “Hi, gorgeous,” he grinned, and pulled my luggage in for me. I stepped inside and as soon as the door shut, he slid his arms around me and pulled my coat off. “It’s bedtime baby.”

  “You don’t say?” I grinned.

  I kicked my shoes off and the next thing I knew, I was wrapped around him as he carried me upstairs. I yanked my top off, and my bra, on the way. I could feel a bulge pressing against my jeans and I was wet, already.

  He dropped me on the bed inelegantly and my breasts nearly slapped me in the face. I fiddled with the fly on my jeans and he grabbed them at my ankles, shuttling them off me so fast I was dizzy.

  “I’m a lucky man,” he declared.

  He quickly pulled off his boxers and I purred when I saw his lovely cock. He was on top of me quickly, his body pressing and seeking mine. His tongue worked my mouth open and we were a tangle, squeezing each other fiercely. His tongue was on my nipple next and he was so urgent.

  “Make love to me,” I asked feeling tearful.

  He wrapped his arms underneath my body and we kissed, slow and tender. Eventually he pushed inside.

  “I love how it feels like this… when you’re holding me tight against you. I feel safe, really safe, Chloe. When you’re wrapped around me—”

  “Kiss me.”

  While he drew in and out of me, he kissed me with the same languid pace he was fucking me with and I was on fire. I looked into his eyes and all I saw was hunger and love. He dragged his teeth through my lips, sucking too.

  “I’m so close,” I warned him. The full press of him inside me while we were so tightly embraced was gorgeous.

  “Come and I’ll come. I love watching you.”

  I kept my eyes locked on his and wriggled my hips, just to gain that extra bit of friction. Our hips rolled together and he circled himself inside me so well, I felt the blast of heat cascade from my clit to my pussy, whirling and kneading him deep inside me.

  “Shit, oh god,” he cried.

  “I’m coming…!” I yelled, clawing at his ass, pulling him into the most hard to reach place.

  He pinned my arms down above me and fucked me harder. My knees hit my ribs so he could fuck the last remnants of joy from my insides. He pounded me hard and I screamed, “Yes! Yes!”

  “Ah fuck!” He held himself deep inside and the pulse of him sent me delirious. I closed my eyes and moaned. I was exhausted and sated and so painfully in love. I couldn’t believe I was here.

  He cuddled up just behind me and we covered ourselves with the duvet.

  “So amazing,” we both agreed.

  He chuckled in my ear and held his arms tight around mine so I was locked in his embrace, his hands clamped around my tits.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  His leg rested between mine and our feet caressed each other’s, our warmth and heady tenderness glorious. I turned my head and found him blushing. God, he was lovely. He reached over and slid his tongue between my lips only for a moment, before pressing his kiss to my mouth.

  “I love you.”

  “You’re my saviour,” he told me.

  There was me thinking it was always me who needed saving.

  I turned my head back into the pillow and fell so swiftly, not giving his desperate tone a second thought.

  Part Two: New York

  “I can remember everything.

  That’s my curse, young man.

  It’s the greatest curse that’s

  ever been inflicted on the

  human race: memory.”

  Jedediah Leland, Citizen Kane

  Chapter 31

  I SPENT THE following week after my arrival unpacking, relaxing around the apartment, having dinner out every night. Even one night when Cai was on a late shoot, I went to a pizza place round the corner and sat with a stack of magazines. I never would have done that before, not on my own. I walked the streets like I belonged and let my legs take me wherever because there was no rush. Late September was what they call Fall and I fell in love with everything about the city then, autumn being my favourite time of year anyway… period. It meant I could rake out my leather boots and various skirt/tights combos. I loved tights. Especially ones with the weirdest patterns. Pity Cai liked to rip them off with his teeth.

  After I got over the neck-craning, I discovered my favourite thing was to take the subway, use Cai’s library card to borrow tons of books, then go sit in Central Park for hours, watching everything passing by. Scrutinizing clothes and runners and dog walkers and celebrities. I thought for a moment I saw Stanley Tucci jogging, but I didn’t want to stare too long.

  I found out from my lover that Jennifer had pulled strings for my work visa to be rushed through so I could start quicker. So little more than a week after landing, I found myself nervous on another one of those tremulous Monday mornings in a new job. I guess this time I felt less terrified, just more curious as to why a rebel like me had been given access to a world I didn’t belong in. I didn’t follow rules and I expected a few of the people I’d be working with wouldn’t like it.

  I walked into Hervé Tower and had to take a deep breath. Whoa. I mean, I’d not understood until I walked through the doors, just what exactly I had gotten myself into. The reception hall was intimidating! Secured to buggery and well, plush beyond my wildest dreams. It seemed like I would wake up any second.

  Craning to look up, I only started rubbing the ache at the nape of my neck when a security guard walked up to me, a serious look on his face beneath his peaked hat—ooh what would my mother say to a man wearing a hat indoors?

  “Ma’am, you got someplace to be?” His smile said he wasn’t treating me like a suspect.

  “Umm,” I stammered, trying to catch a breath, “gosh, it’s my first day! I’m just taking it all in. You know?”

  “You’ll fit right in,” he reeled off, eyebrows raised, eyeing me up and down. “Welcome desk over there, missy. Go get ’em.”

  Beam me up Scotty. I was still waiting to be taken, shuttled up, to the real dimension. Not the one I was currently in. This couldn’t be real.

  I went to the desk and was given a temporary security pass and a floor to head for. I queued with all the other people and got a few looks—men offered to let me go ahead of them.

  When the hall suddenly hushed, I looked around to see what the reason was. Then. There she was. Unmistakable. Jennifer stepped across the threshold. Everybody didn’t stop and stare, neither did they clear a path, but they didn’t move in case they veered in the way of her course. She strode a straight path and over the noise, everybody heard, “Chloe, dear, ride with me.”

  “Shit, that’s me,” I muttered to a random man stood nearby. His eyebrows almost touched the top of his forehead and his head jolted in Jennifer’s direction. I hurried to catch up. Briefly, I wondered why she didn’t have her own, private elevator? Surely?

  I jumped inside the car just as the doors were shutting. Queues of people lined up for the carriages but remained stationary, their eyes glued to the pair of us, stood silently in the lift as the doors closed. When we began travelling upwards, a raucous amount of noise erupted in reception.

  In the lift I had to take a gulp. The motion made me feel nauseous and my ears popped. I guessed I’d get used to New York life, its pace and its nuances. I looked straight ahead and waited until I was spoken to.

  “Nice rags, dear.”

  That was all she said to me.

  On the 12th floor, Jennifer sped off to her office with lightning speed and I spotted a reception desk that I was meant to report into.

  The receptionist, an Asian girl with the most beautiful, long black hair I’d ever seen, stood up from her chair. In a softer accent than the New York one I was used to hearing from Cai, she whispered fran
tically, “She freakin’ let you ride with her?”

  Her large, dark eyes were distracting and blazed jealousy. Also, awe. Perhaps a hint of wonder, too.

  I was momentarily sidetracked by the plush, white leather seating dominating the oval, marble foyer. A series of imitation waterfalls were the surround, meaning you could only vaguely see people at work behind them. Instead of the phone ringing with a shrill thrum, it tinkled like a delicate wind chime and I saw the girl press ‘hold’, seemingly because she’d rather deal with me.

  “I’m kinda going out with Kincaid, her nephew. Well, I just moved in with him.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Serious special.”

  I sniggered. “You wouldn’t believe the story if I told you.”

  “Ivy, get your ass out here,” she shouted over her shoulder, at a girl sorting out the post.

  “What now, Julie?” It was an Amazonian blonde and I realised the reception desk was on a raised level. She frowned at me.

  “This is the squeeze of Cai Matthews. Jennifer just allowed her to ride in the elevator with her!”

  “You’re shittin’ me!” Ivy gawped like she’d just been told Obama was having an affair.

  “Nuh-uh. Tell her… what’s your name?”

  “Chloe Harmon.” I held out my hand but it wasn’t taken.

  “What’s your story?” Julie asked, her cheekbones suddenly harsh, her mouth pouting. So, she wasn’t a fan… just curious.

  “Short or long?”

  The two girls looked at one another, then turned to me simultaneously. “Short.”

  “Well, I’ve loved clothes for as long as I can remember. I have a first class English Literature degree and I’ve been in this business for more than ten years… I reported on showbiz in London. Before that I reported on local news in Yorkshire. I wrote up stories about muggings, floods, political affairs, house fires, old ladies getting raped. Stuff like that.”

  I remained deadpan. Their jaws dropped, again. I think they expected me to say I’d had it all easy. I hadn’t. I knew in some way or other, I’d worked for what I wanted. So what if I secretly thought that Jennifer was employing me to keep me under her control? I was the girl who made the best of whatever she was given.

  I watched them in their perfect outfits, with their make-up, hair and wardrobe all uniformly assembled. Some women conformed, I never had.

  “Suck it up, then,” Julie told me with a hint of caution, and she directed me toward the department I was going to be working in.

  I was glad Kay had prepared me for this. If I started off the right way, hopefully it would continue like that. Ha!

  I felt their icy glares hitting my back as I strode onwards and away from the alleged welcome committee.

  I got to the department where I’d be working, finding another reception area, only a miniaturised version. A girl I recognised stood up from her metallic desk to greet me—my new editor’s PA, Tiffany. I judged her to be the same age as me if not a little older. She playfully dug her index finger into my shoulder and looked me up and down.

  “What? What?” I winked and snickered.

  I struck a pose and threw my hair back. We’d already Skype’d and emailed a number of times as she familiarised me with the work I’d be doing and the hours we’d keep, all that kind of stuff. She seemed fascinated by my clothes, always claiming British girls were crazy dressers.

  In a southern drawl, she exclaimed, “Holy hell. Wow-eee. You got all the right flesh, girl.”

  She motioned I do a spin and I earned more of an audience while we stood there, her making a big show of me. I wore a damson jumpsuit with a gold zip from the crotch to the turtle neck collar. Around my waist was a chunky, gold belt draped lazily. My hair loose, my make-up matched, and my ankle boots were gold, too.

  “I threw it on.” I cursed her admiration but secretly figured, if you’ve got it, flaunt it.

  “Man alive, woman. How’d that man let you outta the door, lookin’ like a bitch who’d drop any man to his knees with one look?”

  I laughed loudly. “Wow. That’s a welcome. Certainly a better one than those bitches on reception gave me.”

  She flapped her hand. “Pay no heed. No-one listens to them.”

  While Tiffany directed me down another corridor, I explained how I’d managed to bag myself the black Gucci bag I carried. I’d bid on eBay for it for nearly five whole days during my days at the Telegraph, where I’d had plenty of spare time.

  The features department was all serious people with serious clothes on. Serious stares down at their monitors and nods and glances between people as I moved amongst them. This looked familiar.

  Tiffany showed me to my cubicle and as I got comfy, she asked shyly, “Lunch buddies?”

  In her violet-mahogany plaid skirt and matching waistcoat/vest—she looked so sweet and endearing as she smiled brightly. She looked up to me already. I’d not break her heart. I knew all too well what that was like.

  “Course, babe. With bells on, Tiff.”

  My new boss Carl breezed into our space like fresh rainforest, his powerful fragrance zinging through the office.

  “I heard there was a disturbance and… wow, Chloe. I knew you had style, but on the first day? You shouldn’t be in features, darling!” I could see him sizing me up, measuring me with a professional eye. “Pilates and you’d easy be a six, sweetheart. Easy. You could walk, then.”

  I smirked and gave him an ironic, raised eyebrow. “I don’t mind starting off here but I will never walk. This is me… I am a writer, so fuck off with the images.”

  “You’re a writer, are you? Hmmm. Well, that’s just what I’m looking for. Test passed.” He winked and held out his hand, which I shook immediately. “Nice to meet you, writer.”

  Tiffany wandered off and came back holding coffee, without me even noticing she’d gone.

  “Stealth coffee woman, yeah?” I ribbed her.

  “She has talents you cannot even possibly imagine,” Carl dictated.

  My lord the man was bloody beautiful and dressed like a European prince, right off the boardwalks of Cannes or Nice. I was told he’d worked for National Geographic before Frame, travelling the world reporting on climate change, until Jennifer hired him for his immaculate dress sense and well, political connections. I was learning from Cai that it was all about connections. Hmm.

  “What is my agenda for today, then?”

  “Meeting in my office in ten,” he winked, then shuttled off.

  “Drink your coffee and settle in,” Tiffany advised, then scooted off too.

  Chapter 32

  IN CARL’S OFFICE, I felt a bit more intimidated. All around me were certificates, awards, plus numerous pairs of binoculars, Stetsons and cowboy boots, all wall-mounted or on shelves, labelled with plaques dictating which adventure the item or piece had accompanied him on.

  He gestured I sit but I couldn’t help but continue to glare at framed pictures featuring him on his travels.

  “Chloe Harmon?” He asked, his question rhetorical. I could see him staring at a screen, probably my employee profile.

  “That’s me.”

  “So… you worked in Yorkshire… then… in showbiz, for Media Solutions. That’s cool. Cool.” His pauses lasted forever. He didn’t look at me while he talked, nor ask me for the facts I could have relayed quicker. He fixated on his screen. “Great company to work for, however… I don’t get it.”

  That’s when his eager face looked directly at me, and I felt naked, or exposed. I wasn’t sure. I frowned and tried to stop myself, but I couldn’t. I lowered my tone and asked coolly, “Get what?”

  “You’re stunning. Yet, you laboured at a crappy newspaper for all your twenties. Wake up and smell the rotten papier mâché, did you?”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek and glared. I might have once been offended but I calmed myself from the inside and gestured around the room.

  “Once upon a time someone like you might have called me fierce. I guess I lost that
for a while.”

  “Why?” He pestered, his jaw firmly set and his shoulders falling forward more with every second. He wanted to get the dirt on me. I knew it.

  “Family stuff.” I am not telling you things I can barely admit to myself!

  “Uh, right.” He rolled his eyes.

  “You think pictures of you in tight khaki trousers, which by the way don’t make your arse look good… intimidate me? I’ve been there, done that, Carl. Lived and learned. Now, what you got for me? I’m hungry for the game. It’s been too long. Too many Z-listers to write about at home.”

  He clapped his hands and laughed. Then his face fell completely deadpan once more. “Seriously, what’s the story?”

  I got back to chewing that cheek. My god, you’re an arsehole. I’d definitely need to FB message Kay later and tell her all about this bloody knob.

  “Why do you wanna know?” I jerked my leg and threw filthy looks at his other relics.

  “Doesn’t everyone have a tale? I like to know what I’m working with first. So I know what you can, and can’t cope with.”

  I pulled my best smirk and knew I sounded stroppy when I begged, “This is such bull. We work at a fashion magazine.” For fuck’s sake.

  “Hold.on.a.minute!” He stood and pointed a finger at me, his face burning red. “Follow me.”

  We left his office and headed for another section of the Frame wing. While we walked, he stated, “This is not your ordinary fashion magazine. This is an institution. Now, this is THE WALL. You will worship this.”

  Oh, will I?

  It was the first thing he showed me and it was impressive. Covers featuring the world’s biggest stars, as well as some game-changing politicians, iconic world leaders, charity campaigners. You name it. I wasn’t just looking at the Big Six nor the others that inherited their success after the supermodel trend broke out in the late Eighties.

  “You’re crazy if you don’t think this is a big fucking deal, sweetheart.” He seemed deadly serious, giving me a look.