‘I get the impression that Gregory doesn’t like Miller,’ she says cautiously.
‘You’ve got the right impression, but can we leave it there?’
Her thin lips purse slightly, annoyed that I won’t confide in her. I’m not exposing her to the hideousness of my complications, so she’ll just have to be annoyed and accept the lie that Miller has fed her. I can’t risk sending her into that horrific dark place again. ‘I might be able to help,’ she persists, squeezing my hand.
‘I’m a big girl, Nan.’ I raise my eyebrows, making hers fall into a scowl.
‘I suppose you are,’ she relents, still scowling, ‘but remember one thing, Olivia.’
‘What?’
‘Life’s too short to hang around waiting for answers that can only be found by getting off your skinny arse and finding them.’ She gets up and viciously plunges her wrinkled hands into the dishwater, then proceeds to dump dish after dish onto the drainer heavy-handedly.
It’s a quiet afternoon at the bistro – until Miller Hart walks through the door. He immediately holds everyone’s attention in the place. And the bastard knows it.
‘Are you free to leave?’ he asks politely, but I expect there is only one correct answer to this question, and behind his impassive façade, he’s just daring me to give the wrong one.
‘Uh . . .’ I can’t form words. Del hands me my satchel and denim jacket with a wary nod, but it takes Miller to physically collect me from behind the counter to get my feet moving. He takes my nape gently and starts guiding me from the bistro, massaging my neck as he does, leaving me with no option but to keep up with his punishing pace. The black Mercedes is parked on double-yellow lines, and it’s only when he opens the door to guide me to the seat that I speak up.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask, looking up at him.
My question doesn’t make him falter in his attempts to put me in his car. ‘You promised me dinner. Get in the car.’
‘That was before you just humiliated me.’ I twist out of his grip and step back. I definitely notice the semblance of a scowl at my rejection, but Miller’s smidgen of emotion isn’t the only thing that has my attention.
He leans down, quite a way, so his eyes are level with mine. They are soft and reassuring. They have me. ‘Why do you keep denying me?’
I rip my stare from his gaze before I can lose myself in it, and walk away from him, my stride quick but completely pointless, too. I’m going nowhere.
He’s behind me, his expensive shoes pacing evenly. ‘I don’t like repeating myself.’ He catches me and turns me in his arms. Then he straightens me out and places my hair neatly over my shoulders before stepping back. ‘I’ll make an exception this time. Why do you keep denying me?’
His audacity sets my emotions in gear. My lips start trembling, my eyes welling. The anger is restoking, too, the hurt magnifying, the confusion tripling. ‘Because . . .’ I close my eyes briefly, feeling my strength slipping away, despite his arrogance. ‘Everything.’ I know William is right. I shouldn’t be getting myself caught up in Miller’s web of pleasure. I might not like William’s interference, and he might not have a right to enforce his demands, but I can’t deny that he knows what he’s talking about. Everything I now know has been confirmed by William. I should listen to him. He’s wise and familiar with this world.
Miller’s luscious lips purse and his eyes drop, prompting that soft curl to fall forward, but I don’t remind him of his rule of looking at someone when they are speaking to you. ‘You don’t desire me?’ he asks quietly.
My face bunches in confusion. What kind of question is that at a time like this? ‘Of course I do.’ I realise my error immediately when his eyes lift and drown me in . . . desire. My own desire is reflecting back at me through the never-ending depths of his blue eyes.
‘And I you,’ he whispers. ‘More than my body desires water to survive or my lungs air to breathe.’
I fight for breath. ‘I’m also frightened of you,’ I confess.
‘And I you.’
‘I don’t trust you.’
That statement makes him falter slightly, but he quickly pulls it back. ‘I trust you with my life.’ His hand lifts, his thumb stroking over my eyebrow. The skin-on-skin contact puts me in my comfort zone and the sparks fire off within. ‘I trust you to help me.’ His finger drifts down my cheek, my jaw, until he’s stroking my bottom lip. My eyes close on a quiet hitch of breath. ‘Let me taste you.’
My nod of agreement is automatic. I can feel bursts of life within.
‘Thank you,’ he murmurs quietly, his breath feathering against my cheek before his lips come down on my mouth softly. He’s gentle, almost cautious, as he caresses my tongue with his, slowly breaking me down. ‘Hold me.’
‘If I do that, I’m yours again.’ I force myself to step away from him, leaving him still bent with eyes searching mine.
‘I’ve made reservations for dinner.’ He straightens up. ‘Will you do me the honour of joining me?’
I’m a mess of conflicting thoughts, struggling to figure out if Miller is my destiny. But as his palm gingerly slides around my back and his heated touch burns through the material of my T-shirt, I think of something. ‘Where were you last night?’
I don’t imagine the slight stiffness on his palm against me and the edge of guilt in those eyes. ‘Come to dinner with me.’