Unperfect

Mia

“My mother’s been ill,” I said by rote, for what felt like the hundredth time. “I’ve been spending some time with her, but she’s getting better now. It’s so nice to be out with Nate again. I’ve felt like a bit of a hermit over the last few months.” The death grip Nate had on my elbow eased somewhat as I repeated the excuse I’d been coached to say again. There would be bruises on my arm by the time the night was over.

“Oh really?” Adrian asked, his assessing eyes flicking from Nate to me and I stiffened. “That’s odd. I could have sworn I saw you out and about in London a few weeks ago. You had a sort of emo look going on if I remember correctly.”

Nate let out a forced laugh. “Emo look? Adie, you crazy bastard. With Amelia’s penchant for designer labels I doubt she’d ever go emo on me.”

The other people in the circle we were standing in were looking between the three of us with curious expressions. Nate’s grip tightened again and I had to work hard not to flinch. I lowered my hands as much as possible so I could start tapping on my wrist to ease my anxiety.

“Hmm, my mistake then,” Adrian muttered. “So you’re back at work are you, Amelia?” He stressed my name and I managed to maintain my fixed smile with some effort.

“Still taking some time off,” I said through the gritted teeth of my smile. Real pain was now spreading out from my elbow under Nate’s too-hard grip.

“Well, you look fantastic,” Adrian’s wife put in, in an obvious effort to ease the bizarre tension. “Sorry about your mum though.”

“She’s doing much better, thanks,” I said softly, hating all the lies Nate was making me spew. “And I love your dress, Sophie.”

“Ugh, this old thing? I look like a overripe blueberry.”

“Now, see here,” Adrian cut in. “I think you look smashing, darling.”

“Oh put a sock in it, Adie,” she replied, rolling her eyes at him. I always liked the way she stood up for herself with him. “What you know about fashion would fit on a postage stamp. Mine’s nothing compared to Mia’s. Is that a Stella McCartney, Mia?”

“Er … I …” I gave a helpless shrug. “I’m not sure to be honest. Nate took care of it.”

Nate had taken care of everything. He’d had a whole rack of dresses sent in, a hair stylist, make-up artist, beautician. I’d been buffed and polished to within an inch of my life, and then forced into this uncompromising sheaf of a dress which fitted me like a glove from my neck to the floor – a wide slit up the side and a low back the only skin it revealed, and that skin was perfectly tanned and shimmered. The dress itself was off-white with a rim of gold around the edges. My hair had gold combs holding back the sides and was also now back to the lighter blonde tones that Nate preferred. I was back to perfect and I hated it. The urge to rip out the combs, scrub off the make-up and tear off the stupid dress was almost unbearable. All I wanted to do was unperfect this version of myself. Because unperfected Mia was happy. Unperfected Mia smiled real smiles, she laughed, she wasn’t terrified all the time.

“Oh God, he really spoils you, doesn’t he?” Sophie gushed. I kept my smile in place and gave her a short nod. Spoiling wasn’t quite the term I’d go for. Manipulated, controlled and terrorised were much more fitting. I hated this formal get-up and the palaver involved. I hated the fact that I’d been standing on these four-inch heels for the last three hours making forced small talk with these people. I’d much rather be lounging in a booth at the Pig and Whistle, arguing about whether watching Love Island made you a div or not. I’d prefer to be served by grumpy, craggy old Fergus than the immaculate waitresses that swept away my empty glass and replaced it with a full one with me barely even noticing. It was sterile, fake and stressful, but at the same time unbelievably boring.

But this was the deal I’d struck with Nate. I would come to these things with him. Show my face to everyone. He’d promised me that after a couple of months he’d dump me. Publicly, so that it would look like he’d been the one to walk away. He’d keep his pride and I’d get my freedom. Given the evidence he had against me (he’d made damn sure to document the stab wounds – I’d been shown the photo evidence and the hospital report. Despite the urging of the police he hadn’t reported me … yet) and the hold he had over Max’s company, leave alone the threats he’d made against my family, I didn’t have much choice.

All evening I’d been stared at and admired by Nate’s competitors, envied by their wives and girlfriends. Like some sort of trophy, he’d paraded me around the charity function. I’d been too nervous to eat any of the canapés circulating, and besides, a white dress plus finger food was too risky. Nate wanted perfection and I knew better than to give him anything less. But I’d barely slept the last two days and I was bloody starving. If we didn’t leave soon I’d collapse in a heap at his Italian leather shoes and really bugger everything up.

“Excuse me,” I said to the crowd around us. “Just nipping to the bathroom. Nate, darling, do you mind?” I held out my champagne glass to him and he reluctantly released my elbow to take it. Flashing everyone what I hoped was a genuine looking smile, I turned around and made my way through the crowd. Once I was far enough away I let out a long breath, put my hand to the back of my neck and flexed it to get out the crick that had settled there with how tense I was. I needed one of Yaz massages. Just as the crowd was thinning, my heel caught on the back of my dress and I stumbled forward. A pair of strong arms caught me before I could go down and a familiar, clean, masculine scent engulfed me.

“Max,” I breathed as my eyes flew from my shoes to his face. Relief fierce and strong was the first thing I registered. He was here. Somehow my Max was here, like a bright candle in the darkness. I smiled and my hand went up to touch his face, but then I remembered where I was. I remembered who I was. And I remembered that, in my life, nothing was ever this easy. My smile fell and I pulled away from him. He was supporting me under my lower arms and for a moment he kept me in his hold. It caused pain to shoot through my bruised elbow and I winced. He frowned and then gently, as if I was made of finest bone china, he tilted my arm around to look at the finger mark bruising I knew was there. His expression darkened to one of absolute fury. 

“Jesus Christ,” he snapped. “What has he done to you?”

I pulled back, and this time he let me go immediately, likely worried he might hurt me again.

“Max, you can’t be here,” I whispered urgently, glancing behind me to check Nate wasn’t on my tail – he’d been known to follow me to the ladies room when he was feeling particularly suspicious and stalkery.

“What’s going on Mia?” Max’s eyes travelled from my perfectly styled hair to my strappy gold high heels. “You look … I-I’ve been searching the crowd for you for the last hour. Your hair it’s so … I–”

I’d never known Max lost for words. But then he’d never meet this Amelia. The cool, controlled, perfectly groomed, untouchable Amelia. I’d managed to thoroughly unperfect myself by the time he’d met me at that interview so many months ago. He looked like he barely recognised me now.

“Listen, love,” he said, moving into my space and cupping my face with his big hand. I desperately wanted to lean into his touch, but forced myself to resist the impulse. “Come with me now. I’ve got a car outside. We can be back home in a couple of hours.” I took another step back from him and blanked my expression.

“Max, you have to leave. You can’t be here. How did you even get in?” This was a high profile function – Prime Minister-in-attendance high profile. The security was unreal.

“I couldn’t get to you any other way,” he said, moving a step towards me. I took a corresponding one back and he frowned. “Listen, your family’s waiting to see you, Mia. They’ve been so worried. We’ve all been so worried. Just come with me and everything will be okay, I promise.”

I closed my eyes as my heart made its way up into my throat. All I wanted was to collapse into Max and have him carry me out of here. Of course he’d found my family. Of course he wanted to give them back to me. Max would always put my needs first – he’d bend over backwards to give me what I wanted. The contrast between someone as loving, generous and kind as Max, and a narcissist like Nate was stark. But I’d made my bed when I chose Nate over my family all those years ago, and again when I did what I did a few months ago. There were consequences to actions, and these were mine. Besides, only a little longer of this then I’d be free. At least that was what Nate had promised, and he wasn’t the only one who’d kept evidence. I also had an extensive catalogue of the results of his abuse which the domestic violence team had helped me compile, and it had come in very useful in my negotiation with Nate. If he touched me, if anything happened to me all of that evidence would go to the press. We were effectively in a stalemate, both of us having the ability to destroy the other. It was exhausting.

“I’m fine,” I said, forcing any emotion out of my voice – this Amelia, Nate’s Amelia couldn’t afford it. “You need to leave me alone. This is a big night for Nate.”

“Fuck Nate,” Max growled, attracting some attention from the people around us who were shooting us curious looks.

“I’m his wife, Max,” I said, my voice cold as ice. I had to make Max believe that I wanted to be here, to make him hate me – it was the only way I knew he’d leave. “I made a commitment to him and he gives me …” I glanced away and then swallowed, “he gives me what I need.”

“He stopped being your anything when he dislocated your fucking shoulder, Mia,” Max’s raised voice was really concerning me now. Most of the people around us had paused their conversations to listen.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said in a tight voice that I kept carefully lowered. I shot a polite smile to some of the onlookers to try and make them lose interest.

“Mia, love,” he said, his voice dropping now and his hand coming up to hold mine. It was stupid but the feel of his large, warm hand around my smaller frozen one was so blissful that I didn’t have it in me to stop him. “You don’t have to do this. Whatever he’s threatened you with, whatever you’ve done or you think he can do to me – none of it matters. All that matters is that you’re safe and away from him.” I allowed myself a moment to bask in the intensity of his green gaze, knowing that he wasn’t going to let me go, not unless I really hurt him – like I’d hurt my family, like I’d hurt my friends in the past. I wrenched my hand from his and blanked my expression.

“Do you really think that I want to come back to the arse-end of nowhereville and work at your pathetic little company?” I asked him, my lip curling and my voice full of sneering condescension. “Going to the local pub, putting up with your shitty kid who’s not even yours, tolerating your pathetically aimless little sister and living in her tiny hovel of a flat. Do you think I’d really give up all this for that? Get over yourself.” Max blinked. He opened his mouth to speak then snapped it shut. I watched as his green eyes flashed with anger and two slashes of red appeared high on his cheekbones. I’d deliberately struck at him in a way that would hurt the most, using the same reasons as Rebecca for leaving him – and it worked.

“Have it your way,” he said, his voice now devoid of all emotion. “I hope you like your fancy clothes and lifestyle,” he looked me up and down and this time his expression was less awestruck and more disgusted, “God knows you’ve paid enough for them.” He turned and walked away. Within moments he was swallowed by the crowd. I felt my eyes start to sting but swallowed down the emotion. Nate would go nuts if I ruined my make up and embarrassed him. But for a full minute I was just frozen in place, unable to move.

“Amelia.” I stiffened at Nate’s voice, the annoyed edge to it putting me on high alert. Right on cue I felt his grip on my bruised elbow again and flinched at the pain. “Will you stop that goddamn tic you’ve picked up.” He manoeuvred us so that he was standing in front of me, still holding my bruised elbow in one hand and using the other to enclose my other wrist and pull my hands apart.

“W-what?” I asked, looking down at his fingers around my wrist and feeling disorientated and a little fuzzy. No food and an emotion-filled few minutes were catching up with me.

“That thing you do with your hands. It’s driving me nuts and it makes you look like a mental patient.”

I hadn’t even realised I’d been tapping again. Over the last few days Nate had made his feelings about my coping mechanisms and how much they annoyed him very clear.

“Right, yes sorry,” I muttered as my eyes slid to the direction I’d just seen Max disappear in. Nate gave me a small shake and my gaze snapped back to his furious expression. “I’m warning you, Amelia. Put some effort in tonight or our deal is off and I’ll hang you and your boyfriend out to dry.”

“I’m doing my best,” I said through my teeth then pulled on both my arms, tugging them out of his grip. “And stop hurting me. You promised – no violence. You know what will happen if you go back on that.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve barely touched you. Rein in the drama, Amelia, and keep your fucking voice down,” he hissed.

“When can we leave?” I asked, not bothering to argue with him or point out the bruises he’d already inflicted. The rules were that I would come out to public appearances with him, but he wasn’t allowed to hurt me or in fact come anywhere near me when we were alone. I hated his prison of a house in Putney, but at least it was large enough for me to stay out of his way, and so far he’d stuck to his side of the bargain. But I had a bad feeling tonight. I didn’t like the high colour in his cheeks or the slightly maniacal gleam in his eyes. Plus he’d been drinking and that always made things worse.

“Hello there.” The band had stopped playing and a voice came over the sound system. Nate and I turned to the stage and saw the Prime Minister, Barclay Lucas was at the microphone. “I’m sorry to interrupt tonight but I have an announcement to make at the bequest of her Royal Highness the Queen.” The room fell silent and all eyes turned to the stage. This was the biggest industry, political event of the year. As well as the Prime Minister, the Duke of Cambridge was also in attendance. It was typically the event at which the winners of the Queen’s Awards for Enterprise would be announced. Nate hand shot around my waist and he clamped me into his side. When I looked up at his face I saw his eyes were shining with anticipation and a small smile was playing on his lips.

No. He couldn’t have?

“The first category is one close to my heart as you all know and that is the Award for Sustainable Development. The winner of this award is making zero carbon homes the norm and allowing eco-homes to be the future, not just for the chosen few in society that can afford them – but for all.”

A ringing had started in my ears as I realised what was about to happen.

“I’m pleased to announce Nathanial Banks as the winner. Nate, would you please make your way up here.”

Of course, Nate would be on first name terms with the bloody Prime Minister – his power and influence were spreading everywhere like a cancer. I pulled away from him to allow him to go up on his own, but he grabbed my hand and towed me along behind him. Before I knew it we were up on stage, he’d shaken hands with Barclay Lucas, and was making a speech into the microphone. I was frozen in place beside him, staring out at the crowd. A crowd that was honouring this man. Honouring this hideous excuse for a human being. And I was standing there encouraging it, complicit with it. Nausea welled in my stomach and I could feel acid work its way to my mouth.

I knew for a fact that he was involved in elaborate tax avoidance schemes. That he was trying to cut as many corners as possible with the building of his ecohomes and hotels. That he squashed complaints from buyers with ruthless efficiency. That he didn’t care about the environment – he only cared about lining his pocket. That it was only because of Max’s tenacity that the houses might stay true to the designs he made for them.

“… and, finally, I’d like to thank my wife, Amelia. Without her support none of this could have been possible.” I looked up at him. He was smiling down at me – smug, blissfully happy with his victory, totally self-assured. My lips pressed together in a flat line as I made my decision. His smile faded a little and a small frown formed on his forehead. Before he could stop me I grabbed the microphone.

“No,” I said into it in a clear, firm voice. “Just no. Not this man. Not today.” Nate snatched the microphone back and let out a forced laugh.

“See how funny she is,” he said into the shocked silence of the hall. “Always ready with a joke.”

“Prime Minister,” I said, leaning into the mic to make myself heard. “You’re making a mistake.” Nate made a grab for the microphone, grappling with me for a few moments before he enclosed both my upper arms in his large hands and literally threw me backwards across the stage. I could feel my shoulder joint protesting on my weak side as I flew through the air and a collective shocked gasp came from the audience. Hands at my waist caught me to stop me falling to the ground and I glanced behind me to see Barclay wearing a confused expression as he stared across at Nate. His bemused eyes came to my face and I mouthed “Sorry”, before launching away from him towards the steps from the stage.

Without looking back, and trying to ignore Nate wrapping up his acceptance whilst making excuses for my ‘crazy sense of humour’, I zigzagged through the people towards the exit. A low murmur was spreading through the crowd. I caught snatches of conversation as I hurried past. Things like ‘Did he just throw her?’ and “What was that?’ and ‘Did she looked scared to you?’. A couple of people caught my eye and some tried to speak to me, but I broke into a light jog until I made it out through the double doors and into the empty corridor.