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Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Dedication
  4. Chapter One
  5. Chapter Two
  6. Chapter Three
  7. Chapter Four
  8. Chapter Five
  9. Chapter Six
  10. Chapter Seven
  11. Chapter Eight
  12. Chapter Nine
  13. Chapter Ten
  14. Chapter Eleven
  15. Chapter Twelve
  16. Chapter Thirteen
  17. Chapter Fourteen
  18. Chapter Fifteen
  19. Chapter Sixteen
  20. Chapter Seventeen
  21. Chapter Eighteen
  22. Chapter Nineteen
  23. Chapter Twenty
  24. Chapter Twenty-One
  25. Chapter Twenty-Two
  26. Chapter Twenty-Three
  27. Chapter Twenty-Four
  28. Chapter Twenty-Five
  29. Chapter Twenty-Six
  30. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  31. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  32. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  33. Chapter Thirty
  34. Chapter Thirty-One
  35. Chapter Thirty-Two
  36. Chapter Thirty-Three
  37. Chapter Thirty-Four
  38. Chapter Thirty-Five
  39. Chapter Thirty-Six
  40. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  41. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  42. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  43. Chapter Forty
  44. Chapter Forty-One
  45. Chapter Forty-Two
  46. Chapter Forty-Three
  47. Chapter Forty-Four
  48. Chapter Forty-Five
  49. Chapter Forty-Six
  50. Chapter Forty-Seven
  51. Chapter Forty-Eight
  52. Chapter Forty-Nine
  53. Chapter Fifty
  54. Chapter Fifty-One
  55. Chapter Fifty-Two
  56. Chapter Fifty-Three
  57. Chapter Fifty-Four
  58. Chapter Fifty-Five
  59. Chapter Fifty-Six
  60. Chapter Fifty-Seven
  61. Chapter Fifty-Eight
  62. Chapter Fifty-Nine
  63. Epilogue
  64. Acknowledgements

She was speaking too quickly, hands spinning and flying, desperately trying to disguise her wanting. When he interrupted her, he spoke slowly. His eyes moved to her neck, her collarbone, her right hand. ‘Oh. You have a cut on your little finger.’

She did. Right below her cuticle, a comma, not a millimetre long, in gleaming crimson. That was the part of her that he was prepared to touch. Shame pulsed in the pit of her stomach and bloomed through her body. She was repulsive, sticky. She wanted him. How could he possibly want her?

‘Sorry.’ Why was she sorry? ‘I must have caught myself on a nail, I move my hands a lot when I talk.’

She realised later that his next words were straight from the TBM playbook. ‘It’s because you have an intensely passionate nature.’ He traced her tiny wound, with his own little finger.

At first, when his lips were on hers, the gesture was solemn, chaste. Harri was not chaste. She groaned, she squirmed, she pushed her tongue against his. He withdrew. ‘We have to leave.’

He stood up, and Harri trailed behind him, looking mournfully at her wheelie case. I’ll come back and pick it up tomorrow, it will be fine, I can buy another toothbrush. He was silent in the corridor, silent in the elevator. Did he really, really want her? Would she get a call from a PA in a couple of days, a humourless woman saying ‘He has requested that you be taken off the project,’ the exasperated note in her voice making it painfully clear that Harri was the latest in a long line of foolish girls to throw themselves at her boldly dressed boss?

The taxi appeared as soon as TBM extended his elbow, because the universe ensured nothing was ever permitted to keep him waiting. He moved like a leading man and smelled like big tips. He leaned back into his seat and stared at her, and studied her, and did not kiss her.

The day was dull, the traffic heavy, grubby, flashing rubies muted by the mist. In other cities, every horn, every puddle, every stale croissant feels like it could mark the start of an MGM Parade. In London, especially in Soho, Harri could have been on her way to do a murder, and the city would have remained indifferent. It was a shabby, patterned carpet, entirely oblivious to the party on it, raging, spilling, staining. She picked at her scab and blotted the blood on her hem.