Seconds later, his release follows mine as he moans my name into my mouth like I’m some sort of goddess.
He places a tender kiss on my lips, tugging my underwear back into place as if it’s still wearable. It’s ruined. And so am I for anyone else other than him.
Already, I’m lusting after my next hit.
The Usher Hallis on Lothian Road, not far from the Caledonian Hotel, where Sasha and Ryan stayed a few weeks ago.
The annual fundraiser is partly a review of the hospital’s achievements over the previous year, a chance for everyone to hear how last year’s funds have been spent, and to find out the difference the money has made in securing the future of the Royal Infirmary, one of the best NHS hospitals in Scotland.
There are formal awards for staff who have surpassed themselves in the line of duty and informal tongue-in-cheek awards for categories like ‘Best Dressed Doctor,’ which is kind of hilarious considering we all wear the same hospital-issued scrubs. Last year, the title went to my friend, Mel, who changes her hair and glasses as often as I change my underwear.
Four rows of traffic block the road outside. The street is wedged with elegantly dressed women in cocktail dresses and men sporting suits and dickie bows.
‘We’re going to be late.’ I gaze at the unmoving traffic surrounding us. ‘It would be so much easier if I could hop out while you parked,’ I suggest to Archie.
‘Not going to happen, baby.’ His hand falls to my thigh where my Isabel Marant chiffon dress has risen four inches above my knee. ‘And who’s fault is it that we’re late?’ Amorous eyes dart sideways with a smile.
‘It was worth it.’ We needed it. The talk and the intimacy.
‘You’re not on until the second half, don’t panic.’ He offers my leg a reassuring squeeze.
Eventually, the traffic crawls along and we find a spot to abandon the car. The grey paving outside the Usher Hall is absolutely thronged with reporters, what looks like a television crew, and a tonne of paparazzi.
Jesus, who are they expecting? The King?
Hanging onto Archie’s arm, I negotiate the pavement in my high heels, almost at the entrance now. My phone vibrates in my tiny silver clutch, but I ignore it. It vibrates again at the exact moment Archie’s phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket as I locate mine amongst my lipliner and mascara.
‘Libby.’ My head cocks to the side as I notice seventeen other missed calls from Mel, Sasha, and even Chloe.
Archie holds up his phone for me to see. It’s Ryan.
Our eyebrows arch in unison.
Archie swipes to answer. ‘Hello?’
‘I don’t know what the fuck is going on over there with Victoria, but the two of you are all over the papers. Find somewhere to lock down. Now!’ Ryan barks.
A sense of sick dread sweeps over me as the crowd turns to face us. What feels like a thousand voices vie for my attention. Our attention.
‘Victoria, is it true you’re having an affair with your bodyguard?’ One particularly aggressive reporter shoves his microphone in my face.
‘Mr Mason, do you have anything to say about Doctor Hughes’ allegation that you assaulted him?’ someone else shouts.
‘Victoria, isn’t he old enough to be your father?’
‘You won’t get away with assaulting a doctor,’ someone else shrieks.
Archie’s arm is around my shoulder in an instant, swatting the crowd out of our path like they’re overgrown wasps. Parasites. That’s exactly what they are.
Fucking Harrison. What was he thinking of, going to the press?
Archie takes the initiative and guides me back to the car, away from the glaring spotlight of the press mob. He bundles me into the passenger seat of the SUV while cameras flash all around us. I haven’t had this much attention since Ryan and Sasha’s movie came out four years ago. I haven’t missed it a bit. I’m not cut out for this life.
I don’t speak until the car merges into a row of slow, but thankfully moving traffic. ‘What actually just happened?’
‘Looks like Harrison went to the press and spun his own story about that night.’
‘Why would he do that? And why now? Why not at the time?’ My curls swing as my head shakes in disgust.
