He eyes widened in horror, and he bolted back into his room. "You've just saved my life, Bratwurst. You know, every time someone loses their belief in fairies, one of us dies. I could have caused mass fairy-cide! I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail."

Ten minutes later, Tink strutted out into the living room in black leather trousers, a black muscle tee top, Italian leather loafers and a Karl Lagerfeld leopard-print blazer with matching 1940's vintage trilby. His eyes were heavily coated in guy-liner, and he was clutching a Prada man-purse which held his essentials – God only knows what they were – but I had to admit, he looked amazing. Not a thread of polyester in sight!

He reached the couch where I had been impatiently waiting for him, and vogued in front of me, hands framing his face, frozen in position. "Well?" he asked, pouting his lips.

I clapped my hands in applause and stood to strike a pose too, one hand on my head, the other out to the side, cutting an odd angle. "Well?" I asked in return.

He walked around me slowly, tutting and mmm-hmming, channeling his inner Anna Wintour.

I was wearing my black harem-pant jumpsuit that tied to nip in at the waist and boasted a tailored fitted shirt, with my black sequin beaded blazer over the top. My hair was loose and wavy (Tudor's favourite), and I was wearing black leather ankle boots and my new favourite 'fuck me' red lipstick.

Tink stood in front of me and smiled. “You look as hot as a cake, my love; you nearly turned me straight, but one look at those gargantuan bosoms and I'm back to loving king-sized ding-a-lings! How Tudor doesn't asphyxiate himself on those life floats mid-coitus I'll never know!"

I held his hand, ignoring his last comment, and we made our way out to Bumblebee and to our lover boys across town.

Twenty minutes – and a good sing song to Beyoncé’s ‘Until The End of Time’ – later, we arrived at Spring Valley. This time we were able to admire the absolute palace that the Norths lived in. It was bloody huge, especially without the sea of police cars and drama.

We made our way to the front door and rapped the brass lion knocker down twice. Tudor answered, looking all delicious in a black jersey long-sleeved top with an open V-neck and black Armani Jeans. He must have just re-shaved his head that afternoon, and he sported one hell of a sexy, rugged five o’clock shadow on his chiseled jaw.

He broke into a huge grin when he saw me, and after he pointed out the direction of Tate for Tink, he brought me to his chest, one arm around my waist, the other running up my spine before loosely gripping the back of my neck with his hand.

I inhaled and nearly toppled over at the scent of him. His aftershave was having a Pavlovian effect on my libido (Note to self: find out brand and drench bed sheets in it when I get home!). Tudor brushed the hair from my neck with his fingers and pressed three light kisses behind my ear, just on the spot that made me weak at the knees.

"My God, you look amazing, Sunshine! I'm half tempted to blow off dinner and drag you to my bed right now."

I giggled into his chest. "Keep talking like that and I'll definitely blow off something later," I whispered, watching his eyes widen with desire.

He pushed me outside, against the wall of the entrance way, and groaned in frustration, moving back to kiss me, his tongue spearing hot between my lips.

Thank God for semi-permanent lip stain!

“Ahem!”

We were interrupted by Henry clearing his throat dramatically, hanging half out of the doorway, covering his eyes with his hands. "Tudor, when you’re finished mauling our guest, Mom wants you to let her come in and socialise."

I jumped back in embarrassment, straightening my rumpled clothes. Tudor just smirked, absolutely no shame whatsoever at being caught. He turned to Henry and nodded. "When I'm finished saying hello to my girl I will."

Henry shrugged and gave a sailor’s salute with his hand before he headed back inside.

I turned to my naughty macho man and shook my head in a disapproving manner. "Mr. North, that was very inappropriate, and you deserve to be punished!" I pointed at his chest, giving him my stern teaching voice.

His eyes rolled back, and he bit his bottom lip. "Fuck, punish me! Please! Please Miss., I've been a very naughty boy!"

I turned and walked in the direction of the front room on shaky legs, and I couldn't help but smile at Tudor's remark under his breath as I did.

"This is gonna be a long friggin' night."

As I entered the front room, everyone was seated around the monster-sized fire that dominated the space, sipping on their drinks and engrossed in deep conversation.

Pamela saw me first and jumped up to say hello. She looked lovely. Her dark, tight curly hair was styled nicely at her shoulders, and she was wearing a simple green dress that went to the floor.

She smiled at me and embraced me in a hug. "How are you, Natasha? I'm so happy you came tonight. Can I take your jacket?"

I nodded my head and suddenly felt familiar hands slip my blazer off my shoulders. I glanced back to see Tudor taking it out to the coat stand in the hall.

I focused back on Pamela; she was clearly happy with her second son’s act of chivalry.

"I'm great, thank you for inviting us to dinner," I tilted my head in the direction of the Tinkster, who was entertaining Samantha, Tater-Tot and Henry with one of his stories.

She swatted her hand in front of her face as if to say 'no problem', and then leaned in to confide in a hushed tone, "Thank you for not deserting him when he needed you most." She bit her lip (just like Tudor) and a distraught look passed fleetingly over her face.