‘Feel good?’ he asks, sliding his palms around my back and circling my waist. I hold my breath, then I hear the creaking again. It snaps me right out of my lustful state.
‘You need to hide.’
He snorts his disgust and moves his grip to my wrists, detaching me from his chest. ‘I’m not hiding anywhere.’
‘Miller, please, she’ll have heart failure if she catches you in here.’ I feel beyond stupid for making him do this, but I can’t let my grandmother barge into my room and see him. I know she’ll go into seizure, and I know it’ll be in shock, but it won’t be shock of the ordinary kind. No, Nan will pass out for a few seconds, then she’ll throw a bloody party. I release a frustrated, suppressed yell, forgetting all embarrassment with regards to my lack of attire, and give him pleading eyes. ‘She’ll get excited,’ I explain. ‘She prays to the Lord Almighty every day for my self-discovery.’ I’m running out of time. I can hear floorboards creaking as she gets closer to the door of my room. ‘Please.’ My na**d shoulders sag, defeated. I can barely do this to myself, let alone to my elderly grandmother. It would be cruel to build her hopes up with a complete non-starter. ‘I won’t ask for anything else, just please don’t let her see you.’
His lips form a straight line and his head drops forward a little, the wayward lock of dark hair falling onto his brow, and without a word, he releases me and moves across my room, but he doesn’t step into the cupboard; he goes behind my floor-length curtains. I can’t see him, so I don’t argue.
‘Olivia Taylor!’
I swing around and find Nan in the doorway, her eyes roaming all over my room, like she knows I’m hiding something. ‘What’s up?’ I ask, silently scolding myself for my poor choice of words. What’s up? I would never say that, and her suspicious face notes this, too.
Her eyes narrow, making me feel even more conspicuous. ‘That man—’
‘What man?’ I need to shut up and let her spit it out, not intercept her and make her even more suspicious.
‘That man in the car outside,’ she continues, resting her hand on the doorknob. ‘Your boss.’
I must visibly relax because she runs her navy eyes over my semi-naked form, knowing plastered all over her face. She still thinks he’s out there, which is just perfect. ‘What about him?’ I pull my skinny jeans from my drawer and hop in, shimmying them up my legs and fastening the fly before snatching a white over-sized T-shirt from the back of my dressing table chair.
‘He’s gone.’
I freeze with my T-shirt halfway over my head, one arm fed through a sleeve and my hair caught in the neck. ‘Where?’ I ask, no other words springing to mind.
‘I don’t know, but one second he’s there, and I know because I could see the top of his head through the slightly open window, then I turn to tell George that he has one of those fancy Mercedes things, and when I look back . . . poof, he’s gone. But that swanky car is still there’ – her foot starts tapping – ‘and parked illegally, I might add.’
I’m immobilised by guilt. She’s like Miss bloody Marple. ‘He’s probably nipped to the shop,’ I say, untangling myself from my T-shirt and pulling it down my body. I make quick work of shoving my feet in my hot-pink Converse. Christ, I’ve got to get him out yet, and with Ironside on the case, it’s looking like a job and a half.
‘The shop?’ She laughs. ‘The nearest is a mile away. He’d drive.’
I fight to prevent an irritated screech escaping. ‘What does it matter where he’s gone?’ I ask, then dive right in with the building of my greatest lie. ‘Oh, and I’m staying at Sylvie’s tonight. She’s a work friend.’
My shoulders rise in anticipation for her gasp of shock, but it doesn’t come, and that has me turning to see if she’s still in my room. She is, and she’s grinning. ‘Really?’ she asks, her eyes twinkling in delight as she runs them down my static form. ‘You’re not dressed for work.’
‘I’ll change when I get there.’ My voice is high and squeaky as I busy myself, collecting toiletries and packing what I’ll need for twenty-four hours with Miller Hart, which isn’t a lot, I expect. ‘The event I’m working at tonight doesn’t finish until midnight, and Sylvie lives close by so I may as well just crash there.’ I’m a fool and completely wasting my breath. It’s only now, when I’m zipping up my bag and chucking it onto my shoulder, that I remember he’s in my room. What must he be thinking? I won’t blame him if he walks out this very instant. This performance by my nan has nothing to do with her disapproving of a man in my life. She just doesn’t like the fact that she doesn’t know about it, that’s all. And she isn’t going to know, not officially, anyway. The silence spreading between us is a mutual understanding of that. Gregory has told her I’m taken by someone, and she can’t bear that I’ve not confided in her. It would be hard enough spilling if I were to get involved with a regular guy, under regular circumstances, but Miller? And with our twenty-four hour agreement? No, it goes against everything I know, and I’m ashamed of myself because of it. While Nan has been begging me to sow my wild oats, I don’t think she quite meant as wild as my mother.
She gazes at me, her old navy eyes thoughtful. ‘I’m glad,’ she says softly. ‘You can’t hide from your mother’s history for ever.’
I shrink a little, but not wanting to extend this line of conversation, especially with Miller hiding behind the curtains, I just nod my head at her, my silent way of saying yes. She nods in return and slowly backs out of my room, all cool and casual, but I know she’ll be rushing back to the lounge window to see if the man has returned to his swanky car. My bedroom door shuts and Miller appears from behind the curtain. I’ve never been so embarrassed, and the interested look on his face only enhances it, even if it’s nice to see him display a facial expression other than the completely serious one that I’ve become used to.
‘Your grandmother is a busybody, yes?’ He’s really amused by her interrogation performance, yet I can also see curiosity lingering on that perfect face.
Straightening myself out, just for something to do other than feed his amusement and his curiosity, I shrug, feeling smaller than ever. ‘She’s entertaining,’ I flip, my eyes darting across the floor. I want the ground to swallow me whole right now.
He’s pushed up against me in a second. ‘I felt like a teenager.’
‘Did you hide behind a lot of curtains back then?’ I step away to gain some breathing space, but my attempted escape is in complete vain.
He moves forward. ‘Are you ready, Olivia Taylor?’
I get the feeling he doesn’t just mean to leave. Am I ready? And for what? ‘Yes,’ I say, decidedly staunch, not quite knowing where the word spoken with such confidence comes from. I stare at him, unwilling to be the first to look away. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’ll experience while I’m there, but I know that I want to go . . . with him.
His lovely lips give an almost undetectable smile, telling me he knows I’m feigning confidence, but I keep my eyes on his, unwavering. He leans down, getting us nose to nose, then blinks slowly, parts his lips slowly, drops his eyes to my mouth slowly, and then he increases my heart rate further by singeing my bare arm with his delicate touch. Nothing extraordinary, but the feeling is beyond extraordinary, like nothing I’ve felt before . . . until I met him.
He dips his head, coming so close I can’t help closing my eyes. I’m dizzy and exhilarated all at once, feeling his tongue trace my bottom lip.
‘If I start, I won’t stop,’ he murmurs, pulling away. ‘I need to get you in my bed.’ He grasps my nape and twists his hand slightly, forcing me to turn away from him and walk forward.
‘My nan.’ I barely splutter the words out in my wanton state. ‘She can’t see you.’ I’m led across the landing and down the stairs – me cautious, him hasty.
‘I’ll wait in the car.’ He releases me from his grasp and strides to the front door, opening it and shutting it with no regard for my peeking grandmother.
‘Nan!’ I shout, panicked, knowing she’ll have her face squished against the glass of the window looking for him. ‘Nan!’ I need to get her away before Miller appears from the recess of the front door. ‘Nan!’
‘Bloody hell, girl!’ She appears in the doorway with George in tow, looking at my frozen form with worried eyes. ‘What’s the matter?’
With a blank mind and blank face, I step forward and kiss her cheek. ‘Nothing. See you tomorrow.’ I don’t hang around. I leave my nan frowning and George muttering something about a strange woman, and run down the pathway to the shiny black Mercedes, diving in and sinking into my seat. ‘Go,’ I press impatiently.
But he doesn’t. The car remains idle at the kerb, and he remains idle in his seat, showing no sign of rushing away from my house as I’ve demanded. His tall, suited frame is relaxed, one hand draped casually on the wheel as he looks at me, completely serious, his steely blues giving nothing away. What’s he thinking? I break the eye connection, but only because I want to confirm what I already know. I look up to the front window of my house and see the curtains twitching. I sag further in my seat.
‘What’s the matter, Livy?’ Miller asks, reaching over to rest his hand on my thigh. ‘Tell me.’
My eyes are on his big, manly hand, my flesh burning beneath it. ‘You shouldn’t have come in,’ I say quietly. ‘You may have found it amusing, but you’ve just made this even harder.’
‘Livy, it’s polite to look at someone when you’re speaking to them.’ He clasps my chin and pulls, making me face him. ‘I apologise.’
‘It’s done now.’
‘Nothing about the next twenty-four hours is going to be difficult, Livy.’ His hand slides across my cheek tenderly, pushing me to nuzzle into it. ‘I know being with you will be the easiest thing that I’ve ever done.’
It might very well be easy, but I can’t see the aftermath being easy. No, I foresee a mountain of hurt on my part and easiness on his. I’m not myself around him. The sensible woman I’ve moulded myself into has gone from one extreme to the other. Nan’s at that window, Miller’s hand is stroking my cheek sweetly, and I can’t even muster up the energy to stop him.
‘The windows are tinted,’ he whispers, slowly moving forward and resting his soft lips on mine.
That may be so; however, he’s not my boss, and my cute nan knows that very well. But I’ll deal with the interrogation when I get home tomorrow. I’m suddenly not so concerned. I’ve been distracted from my sensible self again.
‘Are you ready?’ He asks the question again, but this time I just nod against him. I’m not ready to be heartbroken at all.
The drive back to Miller’s apartment is quiet. The only sound in the air surrounding us is Gary Jules singing about a mad world. I don’t know much about Miller, but I’ve figured out that he must come from good stock. His speech is refined, his clothing of the highest quality, and he lives in Belgravia. He pulls up outside the building and is out of the car and on my side without delay, opening my door and ushering me out.
‘Have it cleaned,’ he orders, detaching his car key from the key ring and handing it to the green-suited valet.
‘Sir.’ The valet tips his hat, then climbs into Miller’s car, immediately pressing a button that brings him closer to the wheel.
‘Walk.’ He takes my bag and settles his hand on the base of my neck again as he guides me through the giant glass revolving door and into a mirror-invested lobby. Everywhere I look, we’re there, me being guided, looking petite and apprehensive, and him pushing me onward, looking tall and powerful.
