My walk-in wardrobe is pristinely organised, and I choose a rich wool wrap around coat and a modest heel. I can’t be expected to walk across New York in my Louboutin Pigalles.
“Ready to go?” I take Emily’s arm and lead her towards the door. She tries to look back for Quinn, but I don’t give her the time to say goodbye. Men! Ordering us around and acting like primates. And then I remember what I’ve done, what I might cause tonight by my actions. I let her arm go, a brief flash of care for her thoughts rather than my own.
“I’ll just be a moment,” she flusters, dashing back in towards the study. I watch the stolen moment between the two of them, his hand on her hair, the way he gazes at her and smiles. He seems to dote on her, and she seems intrinsically attached to him. Was that how his father treated my mother? No. If that was how he loved her, he would have never sent her away.
Emily’s beaming face pulls me back to the present as she approaches me again.
“Ready now?” I ask, the romantic part of me wishing that Benjamin would allow that from me one day.
She nods, more sweet smiles coming with the move, so I head out of the door and try not to over think. What's done is done. What will be will be.
“Is he going to be with us all day?” Emily turns to indicate Torino behind us as we cross through the lobby.
“Oh, him? Yes. Afraid so. He’s never far away. Relax. He won’t interfere, will you, Torino?”
“No, ma’am.” His dutiful response lifts my lips into a slight grin.
“Doesn’t it bother you? Like you’re being guarded all the time? Not trusted?” Emily’s whispers are conspiratorial, as if Torino may hear and report back. I laugh, waiting for the doorman to do his job and give us access to the outside world.
“Not any more. We have a routine. He knows the boundaries, and I have fun pushing them. It’s part of my life. If I’m to be with Benjamin, there’s a price I pay. I’m sure you understand, and I’m surprised Quinn hasn’t got a guard for you.”
“No, we agreed I couldn’t stand for someone to follow me around. I’m not out and about too much. I have someone else work with me at the studio, so I’m never alone there.”
I smile and halt her at the road crossing before she walks into traffic, rolling my eyes at her lacking street smarts. Perhaps London's not as busy as here, though. Who knows? She just doesn't fit with any of this—the city, the men, the life. Certainly not Quinn.
We make our way into Central Park, and I head for the fastest route to get across to the Guggenheim.
“It must be nice to have a sister-in-law who understands as well,” I muse, wanting to glean as much information about the Alves family as possible.
“I’ve not spent that much time with Gabby. I met her for the first time before our wedding,” she replies, spinning around to look up into the sky. “We went out and had the wedding in Costa Rica. It was such a surprise to find out Nate had already married Gabby. Quinn didn’t take too well to me wanting a long engagement.”
“I bet.”
“Nate is very different to Quinn. He’s much more methodical, whereas Quinn can be… volatile. He is like a child in some respects.” Her eyes swing to mine. “God, don't tell him I said that. He doesn’t appreciate when he doesn’t get his own way.” I laugh genuinely, fully appreciating the words.
“I don’t think men like Quinn and Benjamin find that very often in their daily lives. In fact, I'm certain of it.”
We let the chitchat quieten, and I get drawn into the beauty of the park. I see it almost every day, but I still love it, and watching Emily completely enamored only increases my appreciation of its serenity. The leaves have turned and now litter the paths in a carpet of autumnal joy. It’s a beautiful distraction to the darkness invading my life and the consequences I will have to face over the coming days.
The exhibition isn’t something I’d pay to come back and see, but Emily is enthralled. Black and white photographs line the hall of the spiral building, but everything feels off kilter and makes me uneasy. I’d much rather be in the library, head down, learning something valuable rather than this whimsical behaviour.
“Are you ready for some food?” I ask, hopeful that Emily doesn’t want to re-visit all of the same scenes she’s been ogling for the last hour.
“Absolutely. What do you recommend?”
“This is New York. You can have anything.”
“Okay. How about somewhere we can have a cocktail and something simple to eat. Nothing over the top or fancy. Just good quality food.”
“I know a place.” I turn to search for Torino and find him hovering by a bench. “We’re going to grab a cab to SoHo.”
“As long as we’re back by five, Hope. You’re not pulling any shit today,” Torino spouts. My brow lifts at his warning, amused. As I watch him, I see two other men dressed in trim black suits, as if they’re hovering, too. One of them spots me watching and immediately deflects. I’d put all the money in my new bank account on them being here for Emily, she just doesn’t know it. Sneaky fucker.
Inside Gordon’s bar, it’s all lush fabrics and sofas, making for an inviting ambience. The cocktail menu is vast, but I remember what Quinn said the first night—she can’t hold her liquor.
We order some fruity, fizzy thing that gets whipped about and poured into a tall flute and adorned with all manner of additions.
“Cheers. To new friends.”
