The Unbreakable Trilogy. Primula Bond

the one I glimpsed in the gallery, when he marked me, hooked me with his fingers. And that’s the one who seems to be here now, standing behind the bar. The penetrating gaze that sends shivers of doubt, fear, anticipation, and excitement down my spine.

      He hasn’t laid a finger on me this evening. Hasn’t so much as mentioned the pictures which have been framed today, especially the controversial Venetian ones which are bound to cause a stir when the show opens. He hasn’t mentioned what else he requires me to do to fulfil the personal part of our agreement. Maybe he’s lulling me into a false security, lulling me into forgetting that this is all a lot more complex than just being colleagues, with his soufflé and his easy chat, and now the champagne. Maybe soon he’s going to demand the next instalment. And maybe I’m going to shock him by being totally ready, willing and able.

      But for now I play his game, assuming nonchalance. I fold my arms. ‘How am I supposed to get home, then?’

      ‘If our Dickson was here, he’d take you home, semi-naked or not. He knows not to touch my property, however tempting. But as he’s not, and I’ve had too much drink to drive you myself, you’re staying here, Serena.’ Gustav hands me a flute brimming with palest gold and reaches out to run a finger down my jaw. My eyes flutter at the touch. Surely he can see how I react to him even with the slightest contact? Surely he can see what he’s awoken?

      ‘But—’

      ‘No more questions,’ he insists softly, pressing his finger on my mouth in his familiar gesture. His eyes spark as my tongue flicks out to lick his finger. I know he’s feeling the same clench of desire inside him that I am.

      I reach up to take his hand, lace our fingers together. They are longer than mine, and stronger, and warmer, but somehow they fit so well. ‘Gustav,’ I whisper. ‘When?’

      His eyes blaze back at me as he swallows hard. He lifts our joined hands towards his mouth, brushes them over his warm lips. I try not to squeal with impatience.

      Then he gently extricates his fingers.

      ‘First we drink to celebrate! That first glass down in one go. And then another, I think, to quench any nerves.’

      ‘I’m not nervous.’ I keep my voice low. Hope it’s seductive.

      He clears his throat. ‘Tomorrow we prepare for your private view, and we still have a lot to do. Tonight, I will try to answer your question, Serena. Starting with this.’

      I do what he says. Drink the flute of champagne in one go, and it feels as if I could float off the floor. Then he hands me a little blue box tied with a scarlet ribbon.

      ‘Open it.’

      The box is empty. Or so I think. In fact there is a wisp-thin chain lying in a heart shape on the velvet cushion. It’s a silver bracelet, so delicate it looks as if it has been woven by a spider. I take it out, turn it in my fingers. It’s like fairy hair.

      All the ease, mellowness, barefoot familiarity evaporates. I stand stiffly behind the massive purple sofa. The atmosphere has shifted yet again. Gustav Levi is behaving like a suitor of the most old-fashioned sort, but he’s taking it much slower than he did yesterday.

      I’m confused, and frankly annoyed. Right now he doesn’t look like the same man who pushed me up against a window and put his fingers inside me, made me tremble and come like a bird in his hand. Made me want it again, and again.

      Tonight he’s a handsome, rich, successful host, enticing me into his house and flattering me. The next step I daresay will be him expecting me, demanding that I climb the stairs with him at the end of the evening and sleep with him. It’s in black and white in our agreement. Well, the simple words are there in a little clause of their own at the very bottom of the document, below 50:50 and above our joint signatures.

       Sex when demanded.

      This is the whole reason my work will be hung tomorrow on the white expanses of Gustav Levi’s gallery, splendid and stylish for its admiring audience, cajoled by my champion to open their wallets. It’s how I will repay him for making my name known nationwide. Worldwide. It’s perfectly simple, but now I’m here, in his house, in a diaphanous negligee, full of his food and drink, close enough for him to scoop me up and carry me off, I’m still not sure how it will work. I’m not sure he is, either.

      How hard can it be? Polly would be rolling her eyes by now.

      ‘It’s beautiful.’ I tentatively touch the bracelet. ‘No-one has ever given me anything so exquisite before.’

      Gustav takes the chain and winds it twice round my wrist. ‘You’ve reached the age of twenty and have never been given jewellery?’

      We both study it as he holds my wrist up in the candlelight. The bracelet fits perfectly. It’s so light that once it’s on I can’t feel it on my skin. I notice that my name is engraved in a kind of Gothic script on a tiny plaque. I also notice that once the clasp has locked into place, I can’t take the bracelet off.

      ‘Never. No-one at home ever saw the point of jewellery. They saw it as extravagant and vain. I got pens, pencils, books, clothes for birthdays and Christmas, practical things that I needed. But nothing unnecessary or flippant or fun. Not even a watch. Nothing to make me look pretty. When I was fourteen my cousin Polly pierced my ears for me with a sterilised safety pin.’ A sulky sigh escapes me. ‘But until then I was never adorned.’

      ‘In that case, I am thrilled to be the person breaking that chain of deprivation.’ He keeps his fingers hooked round my wrist. My skin, and the intricate silver, are heating up under his fingers. ‘This isn’t just a gift, though. Not just an adornment.’

      He keeps his eyes on me as he takes another chain from under the velvet cushion. This one is slightly thicker. He hooks it onto my bracelet and then unwinds it, like he unwound my hair the other day. With a smile creasing his eyes now, he walks backwards away from me to show me how long this second chain is, and then he clips it onto his watch.

      ‘What are you doing?’ I jerk my wrist, and the chain between us goes taut.

      ‘It’s more than jewellery, Serena.’ He frowns and tugs it harder, forcing me to take a jerky step towards him. ‘Think of it as a symbol. Here’s the chain, joining us together. I know it’s a symbol of captivity. Slavery, even. But I also like to think it represents an anchoring. You know, like the rope thrown over the side of a ship.’

      I put my hand over my eyes, suddenly tired. ‘All these symbols are making me dizzy!’

      ‘Look at me, Serena.’ He takes my hand away from my eyes. ‘I want it to represent our binding relationship. What we’ve agreed. What we’re going to do for each other. A silver handshake, if you like.’

      I lift my hand to examine the intricate work. Somehow the chain makes my wrist and hand look elegant, swanlike.

      ‘Isn’t that when people say goodbye?’

      ‘A silver handcuff, then.’

      Suddenly there’s a blinding flash of lightning. The flames in the candlesticks dip to one side and I bunch my fingers round my mouth to stifle my automatic scream. I count the minutes to work out how far away the noise is, but it’s already here. There’s the thunder, thick, fast and deafening, right above the house.

      Gustav is in front of me, holding my arms. ‘Hey, what’s this? My young Amazon frightened of thunder?’

      ‘Always have been. Since I was young. They always left me alone when there was a storm.’ I realise I’m shaking.

      ‘They?’

      ‘We lived in a horrible house on the cliffs. Right at the very end of the country. It felt like the edge of the world. I was terrified of the storms, and they just shouted at me. I’m certain that thunder is amplified by all that water. Or that’s how it sounded to me, anyway.’

      He holds me close, just as I was hoping, and puts his mouth in my hair just