Reaching up to my neck through my fuzz of uncertainties, I begin a soothing rub over my flesh, but pause the moment it registers that there’s a reason I’m performing this action. I lift my hand and the hairs jump back up, making me swing around in search of my shadow. There are pedestrians everywhere, most moving fast, but no one looking particularly suspicious. My fear snakes up my spine, straightening my back. I’m being watched. I know I’m being watched. I’m frantic as I swing one way, my hair whipping my face, then the other in the hopes of something catching my eye – anything that will stop me from believing that I’m going stark-raving crazy.
There’s nothing.
But I know there’s something.
Sophia. But she’s gone. Or is this just the lingering after-effects of her recent presence? It’s possible; the woman has an unwanted lasting air about her.
I spin, my eyes darting as I try to gauge my surroundings and soon realise that I’ve been dumped a good mile away from Miller’s. Panic runs riot through my veins as I turn, running at full speed towards his apartment block. I don’t look back. I sprint through the streets, dodging people, crossing roads without looking until I see his building in the distance. It doesn’t give me any sense of relief.
Flying into the foyer, I run straight into a waiting lift. I’m frantic as I smash the button for the tenth floor repeatedly. ‘Come on!’ I yell, holding back from abandoning it in favour of the stairs. Adrenalin is overwhelming me, and it’d probably carry me up the stairs faster than this lift can, but the doors begin to close and I slump against the back wall, my impatience growing. ‘Come on, come on, come on!’ I start pacing the small space, like my movement might hurry it up. ‘Come on!’ My face is pressed up against the doors when they open, and I squeeze through as soon as the gap is large enough for my lithe body.
My feet barely touch the ground. I rocket through the hallway, my legs moving so fast I can’t feel them, my hair sailing behind me, my heart set to explode out of my chest in fright, fear, anxiety, desperation . . .
His door’s wide open, and I hear yelling. Loud yelling. It’s Miller. He’s taken leave of his senses. My need to get to him spirals, my legs now numb from being overworked, and I crash through the doorway, my eyes darting until I find his na**d back. He has Gregory up against the wall by his throat.
‘Miller!’ I scream, my knees giving out when I come to an abrupt halt, making grabbing the nearby table essential if I’m to remain on my feet. Tears burst from my eyes, every emotion piercing me collecting together and putting too much pressure on my ability to cope.
He swings around violently, his eyes wild, his hair wild, his movements wild. He looks like a feral animal – a dangerous feral animal. He is dangerous. Unforgiving. Notorious.
The Special One.
Gregory is released without delay, and his gasping body slides down the wall lifelessly, his palms clenching his throat on a wince. My desperation won’t allow room for guilt or worry for my friend.
Miller’s long legs eat up the distance between us in a nano-second, his eyes remaining dark but relief clear in the swimming blues I love so much. ‘Livy,’ he breathes, his na**d chest heaving relentlessly. I throw myself forward when I’m sure he’s close enough to catch me and land in his waiting arms, my stress reducing by a million levels at simply being in his hold.
‘I was followed,’ I sob.
‘Oh, f**king hell,’ he curses. He sounds in physical pain. ‘Fuck!’ He lifts me from my feet and holds me tightly. ‘Sophia?’ The anxiety in his hoarse voice raises those stress levels again. He’s too frantic.
‘I don’t know.’ And I don’t need to ask how he knows it was Sophia. I expect he’s strangled a description out of Gregory. ‘She dropped me off streets away.’ I shake my head, keeping my face stuck to his neck. It’s silly, but I concentrate on breathing him into me, hoping that surrounding myself with all of my comforts will chase away all of my distress. I’m shaking like a leaf, no matter how secure he holds me, and through my uncontrollable body movement, I can feel his heart punching into my chest. He’s delirious with concern and that only heightens my ever-growing fear.
‘Come here,’ he rasps, like he doesn’t have full control of my motionless form. He carries me further into his apartment, my nails digging into his shoulders. There’s a brief attempt to detach me from his body, but when I silently refuse, increasing my grip, he relents and sits on the couch with me still stuck to him. He fights to manoeuvre me, shifting my legs to one side until I’m cuddled on his lap, my head buried under his chin. ‘Why did you get in that car, Olivia?’ he asks, no scorn or anger in his tone. ‘Tell me.’
‘I don’t know,’ I admit. Stupidity. Curiosity. They must be the same thing.
He sighs, mumbling under his breath. ‘Don’t go near that woman, do you hear me?’
I nod my acceptance, wholeheartedly wishing that I never had. Nothing good came of it, except some undesired knowledge and aching questions. ‘She said you told her I was a bit of fun.’ The words, although free from my mouth, leave a rancid taste behind.
‘You mustn’t see her,’ he grates, wrestling me from his chest. I give in this time, needing to see his face. There are a million emotions etched on every perfect piece of it. ‘She’s bad news, Olivia. The worst. There’s a reason I told her what I did.’
‘Who is she?’ I whisper, fearing the answer.