‘Livy?’ Gregory shakes me a little, prompting my eyes to fly open and shoot around the club. ‘Olivia?’
‘I’m sorry.’ I force a smile, trying to appear fine, but my heart is crashing against my breastbone, set on fighting its way from my chest. He’s here. ‘I need the toilet.’
‘I’ll come.’ He starts leading me off the floor.
‘No, honestly. Get the drinks. I’ll meet you at the bar.’
Gregory relents easily, letting me find my way to the toilets alone while he orders more drinks. But I don’t head for the ladies’. I divert once I’m out of Gregory’s sight and hurry towards the front of the club, taking the stairs fast, down to the maze of corridors beneath Ice. William told me to run, but I doubt he wanted me moving towards the danger. I’m a woman possessed as I follow the passageway, taking too many wrong turns and shouting my frustration when I land in front of a storeroom. I can still hear the music – the words distressing me, reminding me, as I rush back the way I came and try a different route. The sight of the metal keypad outside Miller’s office fills me with relief and dread all at once as I charge for it. I have no clue what the code is or what I’ll find . . . or what I’ll do if I find anything – if I find him.
I don’t need the code. The door is ajar and one tiny push swings it open.
Internal fireworks explode.
He’s standing in the middle of the room, suit adorned and expressionless, just watching me as I hover on the threshold of his office. My eyes instantly fill with tears as I breathe erratically and watch him watching me. My knees feel weak. The music is relentless. I drink him in, his dark suit pristine, his hair seeming longer, the soft waves flicking out from below his earlobes. There are no words, just intense eye contact. There’s no facial expression or body language to tell me what he’s thinking. He doesn’t need to tell me what he’s thinking, though. His eyes are doing that. And they’re angry. He’s been watching the club’s CCTV footage. He’s been watching me being hit on by countless men. I take a worried pull of breath. He’s been watching me encourage and accept it.
‘Did you let any of them taste you?’ He steps forward, and I instinctively step back, wary.
This isn’t going to be a happy reunion. He has a nerve to ask such a question after he’s been in another country with another woman. My shock from his presence is turning into irritation fast. ‘That’s none of your business.’ He’s jealous again, and this gives me an unreasonable thrill.
His perfect jaw is ticking. ‘When you’re in my club, it’s my business.’
‘It’ll never be your business again.’
‘Wrong.’
I shake my head as I step back further, hating my uncooperative body for staggering slightly. ‘I’m right.’
He runs displeased eyes up and down my tight, short-dressed form. ‘You’re drunk.’
I ignore his accusation, remembering something. ‘Which means you can’t f**k me.’
‘Shut up, Olivia!’
‘Because you want me to remember every kiss, every touch, every—’
‘Livy!’
‘Except I don’t want to remember every moment. I want to forget them all.’
His neck veins bulge to bursting point. ‘Don’t say things you don’t mean.’
‘I mean it!’
‘Shut up!’ he roars, sending me back a few more paces, his ferocity stunning me into silence. I gather myself fast, but my wide eyes are undoubtedly displaying all of the shock I’m feeling. Shock that I came here, shock that he’s here, shock that he’s so fuming mad. He has no right to be, despite my provoking him. I knew what I was doing. And he knows that, too.
‘You told Tony to let me in if I came, didn’t you?’ It’s suddenly very clear. He anticipated this. ‘You told Tony to monitor me.’
‘I have over two hundred cameras in this club to do that.’
‘How dare you!’ I spit, feeling my blood heat with rage, rather than the usual desire when I’m within touching distance of Miller Hart. I thought my presence would shock him, but no. He fully expected it.
He steps forward again, but I keep my distance. I’m now in the corridor, not that it deters him. His long strides have him in front of me in seconds, his hand taking my nape and guiding me to his desk determinedly. I’m pushed down into his office chair, where I’m confronted with image after image of me in his club – all with men hovering around me. While I’m ashamed of myself, I’m also quietly delighted. The whole point was to torture him the only way I know how. And it looks like I’ve succeeded. The apparently emotionless man is furious. Good. I just didn’t expect to be around when he watched the footage.
‘There are five dead men on these screens,’ he seethes, leaning down next to me, smashing a button on his remote control. The images all change, but they’re all still me . . . and men. ‘There are six on these ones.’ He proceeds to flick through the footage, adding up the men he’s going to be slaughtering. ‘Does that make you happy?’
‘They never tasted me,’ I say quietly.
‘They want to! And you’re doing nothing to discourage it!’ he yells next to me, making me jump in his chair. I can feel the fury pouring from him. He’s right. His temper isn’t something I want to toy with. ‘Where’s your f**king self-respect?’
Those words ricochet around my head like a bullet. ‘My self-respect?’ I shout, flying up from the chair, letting my bag tumble to the floor and my fear of his temper tumble away. I feel pretty lethal myself right now. ‘My self-respect?’ My palms collide viciously with his chest, sending his tall frame staggering back. My strength shocks me. ‘My f**king self-respect!’