Surely he’s planning on going? He is the brand new part-owner of Alchemy’s overseas operations, after all, and the opening of the New York flagship is a biggie. Maybe he’ll go without me? The thought of it makes me feel physically sick: Adam in some glamorous Manhattan sex club, all tall and gorgeous and commanding, the glossy women of New York fawning over his model-grade looks and British accent, begging him to exercise that twitchy palm that he won’t unleash on me. Ugh ugh ugh.
