Unveiled Read online

  I can tell because of the surprised expressions replacing the initial curiosity. Or do they recognise me? I quickly rein in my disturbing thoughts and push on, finding myself at the bar fast. I can’t think like that. I mustn’t think like that. I’ll be dashing for the exit any moment if I don’t halt these thoughts. Miller needs me with him.

  ‘What can I get you?’

  I direct my attention to the impeccably turned out barman and immediately blurt my order. ‘Wine. Whatever you have.’ My bum drops to one of the leather barstools as I gather every reasonable fibre of my being in an attempt to calm myself down. Alcohol. Alcohol will help. The barman nods acceptingly and begins making my order while he looks on to Miller in question.

  ‘Scotch. Straight,’ Miller mutters. ‘The best you have. And make it a double.’

  ‘Chivas Regal Royal Salute, fifty years old. It’s the very best, sir.’ He indicates a bottle on a glass shelf behind the bar and Miller grunts his acceptance, but he doesn’t take a stool next to me, choosing to remain standing by my side, scanning the bar and nodding to a few inquisitive faces. The best they have. No one pays for drinks at the Society. The obscene membership fees cover it. And Miller will undoubtedly know this. He’s making a private point. He remembers William messing with his perfectly neat drinks cabinet and helping himself to a drink. He’s on a silly revenge fit. Is this rubbing along just fine?

  A glass of white wine is placed before me and I immediately swipe it up, taking a long healthy glug as a huge frame appears behind the bar from nowhere. Glancing to my right with my glass suspended in mid-air before me, I take in the ominous presence of the giant man. Blue eyes, so pale they resemble clear glass, cut through the relaxed atmosphere like a machete, and his shoulder-length black hair is slicked back into a tight ponytail. Everyone is aware of him, including Miller, whose hackles seem to have risen and are currently stabbing at my back. I remember him – I could never forget – but his name is stuck on my tongue. He’s William’s first in command. He’s well turned out, but his tailored suit does nothing to dilute the evil vibes emanating from every pore.

  I sit back on my stool and take a nervous sip of my wine, trying to ignore his presence. Impossible. I can feel those mirror-ball eyes slicing into my flesh. ‘Olivia,’ he all but growls, making me take in a steadying breath of air, and Miller bristles into the realms of taking leave of his senses. He’s now pushed up against my back and virtually vibrating on me.

  I can’t speak. I can only just swallow, sending more wine down my throat fast.

  ‘Carl,’ Miller utters quietly, instantly reminding me of his name. Carl Keating. One of the scariest men I’ve ever met. He’s not changed one bit – not aged . . . not lost his frightening aura.

  ‘We weren’t expecting you,’ Carl says, taking the empty tumbler from the barman and flicking his head in command, sending him away without the need to verbalise his order.

  ‘Surprise visit.’ Miller’s retort is full of arrogance.

  Carl places the glass on the marble counter of the bar before he turns and takes down a black bottle from the shelf that’s embellished with an intricate gold plate. ‘The good stuff.’ He raises his black eyebrows as he holds the bottle up and pulls the gold stopper from the top. I shift uncomfortably on my stool and risk a peek over my shoulder to Miller, dreading what I’ll find. His stoic expression and heated blue eyes, boring right into Carl, do nothing to lessen my unease.

  ‘Only the best,’ Miller speaks clearly, never letting his focus waiver.

  I blink slowly on a quiet hitch of breath, my shaky hands taking my glass back to my lips. I’ve been in some painful situations of late, and this is right up there with the best of them.

  ‘Nothing but the best for the Special One, yes?’ Carl smiles cunningly to himself as he pours a few fingers.

  I cough over my wine, slamming the glass down before I drop it. He’s playing a dangerous game and he knows it. Miller’s chest heaving, buzzing, burning against my back tells me he could explode at any moment.

  Carl passes the glass over and holds it in mid-air, rather than placing it on the bar for Miller to take, then wiggles it slightly . . . teasingly. I wince on a little jump when Miller’s hand flies out and viciously swipes it from his clasp, making the mean beast grin evilly. He’s getting a sick thrill from poking Miller and it’s beginning to get under my skin. Miller drains the alcohol in one smooth gulp before he smashes the glass down and licks his lips slowly, a slight curl developing at the side of his mouth. His eyes remain locked on Carl the whole time. The animosity batting between these two men is making me dizzy.

  ‘Mr Anderson wants you in his office. He’ll join you shortly.’

  My neck is taken before Carl’s words fully sink in, and I’m on my feet and being led away from the bar before I can finish the rest of my much-needed wine. The anger pouring from Miller is potent. I’m nervous enough just from being here. All these bad feelings aren’t assisting. The pounding of Miller’s expensive shoes on the polished floor is ricocheting around my head, the walls closing in around me as the corridor swallows us up.

  And then I see the door – the one I staggered towards the last time I saw it. The intricate door handle seems to swell before my eyes, enticing me in, showing me the way, and the wall lights seem to dull the farther we progress. The light buzzing of the posh club is fading into a muffled fuzz of quiet sound behind me, my poor mind being hijacked by relentless, painful memories.

  My eyes are set on the handle, and I see Miller’s hand extend in slow motion and take hold, pushing it down and opening the door. He shoves me through quite firmly. I never thought I’d see this room again, but before I have time to absorb it, I hear the sound of the door close and I’m being whirled around and taken with conviction. I gasp, caught off guard, and stagger back in shock. Miller’s kiss is hungry and urgent, but I accept it, grateful for being spared the chance to take in my surroundings.

  Our mouths are clashing repeatedly as we consume each other. Then he’s at my neck, my cheek, my shoulder, and returning to my mouth. ‘I want you here,’ he growls, beginning to step forward, encouraging me to move back until I feel hard wood at the back of my legs. ‘I want to fuck you right here, make you scream in ecstasy and come all over my aching cock.’ He lifts me and places me on the desk behind us, my dress pushed to my waist as he continues to attack my mouth. I know what he’s doing. And I couldn’t care less. This is the refuelling of strength I need.

  ‘Do it,’ I gasp, reaching up and pulling at his hair. Miller growls into my mouth as he unbuckles his belt and rips his trousers open before returning his hands to me and yanking my knickers aside. Our kiss is broken and my eyes drop to his groin. His cock is twitching eagerly, begging for me to come to it.

  ‘Move forward,’ he instructs hoarsely, sliding his spare hand to my bum and tugging impatiently as he stares down at himself slowly stroking his arousal. ‘Come to me, sweet girl.’

  I shift a little, placing my palms flat on the desk behind me, being sure to never let my eyes stray from his perfect face – being sure not to allow myself a reminder of where we are. The moist head of his cock skims my centre, making me hiss and tense. The strength required to keep my eyes open nearly finishes me. He’s rolling the tip of his erection in painful circles, around and around on my flesh, still using those familiar teasing tactics, despite his earlier urgency.

  ‘Miller!’ My hands ball behind me, my teeth gritting.

  ‘Do you want me inside you, Olivia?’ He flicks his eyes from his groin to my flushed face, teasing my opening. ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yes.’ I circle my legs around his waist and use them as leverage, yanking him towards me. ‘Yes!’ I choke, the instant, deep penetration robbing me of breath.

  ‘Oh fuck! Livy!’ He withdraws slowly, watching himself emerge from my passage, his jaw pulsing. Then he looks up at me as he holds still and his blue eyes visibly darken, his grip on my thighs flexing . . . preparing. I wait for it, holding his purpos
eful gaze as it comes closer to me until his suit-covered torso is leaning over me and our noses are nearly touching. Yet he remains poised at my entrance, only the very tip of him submerged. I don’t move. I remain still and patient under his close studying of me, panting in his face, so desperate for movement, but just as desperate to let Miller lead the way, knowing it’s exactly what he needs.

  Now.

  Here.

  Me.

  Our eyes are stuck. Nothing will pull them apart. And when he slowly closes the small remaining gap between us and kisses me tenderly, I still don’t lose his blues. I keep my eyes wide open and so does he. His kiss is brief but loving. It’s worshipful. ‘I love you,’ he whispers, returning upright, still never allowing his gaze to wander.

  I smile, keeping myself braced on one arm and using the other to reach forward. I skim his bristly cheek with my fingertip as he continues to regard me closely.

  ‘Put your hand back on the desk.’ His instruction is soft but firm, and I fulfil it without delay. I know full well what his intention is. I can see it past the softness of his eyes. Desperate hunger.

  He takes a deep breath, making his chest expand beneath the material of his suit.

  I take in air, too, holding it, preparing, silently willing him on.

  Beautiful, lush lips straighten and his head shakes slowly in wonder. ‘I love you so, so much.’

  Then he pounds into me on a guttural bark.

  I scream, my lungs bursting and allowing every scrap of air I’ve contained to escape. ‘Miller!’

  He freezes against me, holding us close, filling me to the maximum. Just that one powerful pound of his body into mine has us both gasping for breath. There’s so much more to come, so I gather the depleted air and take the few seconds he’s giving me to prepare for his attack as he twitches and jerks within me.

  It happens faster than I anticipated. I get a few seconds of painful torture as he pulls out of me slowly before he totally lets loose. He’s unforgiving. Our bodies smash together over and over, creating the most wonderful sounds and sensations – our shouts of mind-bending pleasure saturating the large office, the feel of us both uniting sending me to that place beyond pleasure. My mind spaces out and my focus remains solely on accepting his brutality. I’m sure there will be bruises when we’re through, and I don’t even care.

  I want it harder. Faster. I’m craving more. More Miller. I bunch his suit jacket in my fists and hang on for dear life. Then I push my mouth to his and tackle his tongue. He needs to know I’m OK. He wants to fuck me but worship me. He wants the things that make us us. Touching. Tasting. Loving.

  ‘Harder,’ I shout into his mouth, just so he knows I’m fine with this. I’m loving it. Everything about it – the strength of him, his merciless taking of me, his claiming of me, where we are . . .

  ‘Oh sweet Jesus, Livy.’ His mouth moves to my neck. He bites and sucks, my head falls back as my hold of him moves to his shoulders, and he doesn’t falter one . . . little . . . bit. The speed of his advancing hips picks up a gear. Or two. Could possibly be three. ‘Fuck!’

  ‘Oh God!’ I yelp, feeling the rush of blood hurling to my centre. ‘Oh God, oh God, oh God! Miller!’ My hearing is muffled, my mind distorted, and I finally give up and close my eyes, leaving me blind, too. Now all I have is feeling. Lots of feelings. ‘I’m coming!’

  ‘Oh yes! Come for me, sweet girl.’ His face emerges from my neck and he tackles my mouth, impatiently pushing his tongue past my lips when I fail to open up to him. I’m too focused on the orgasm powering forward. It’s going to blow my world into pieces.

  I begin to panic when I get stuck at a point of no return, yet not seeming to be able to capture my release. I tense everywhere. I’m rigid in his arms, only moving because of Miller’s control of our bodies. He strikes me over and over, yanking my body onto his while our mouths attack each other violently. But it won’t happen. I can’t get there, and my frustration explodes. ‘Fucking harder!’ I yell in desperation. ‘Make it happen!’ I reach up and boldly yank at his hair, making him shout as he hammers forward.

  But he stops. Abruptly. My rage only multiplies by a million when he smirks at me. He’s watching me gasp unevenly all over him, feeling me squeeze him within me. He’s ready to explode, too. I can see it past the smug satisfaction of his gaze. But I’m not sure if that satisfaction is because he has me going out of my mind or because he has me on William’s desk.

  The sheen of sweat glistening on his brow diverts my attention there momentarily . . . until he speaks, pulling my eyes back to his. ‘Say I’m yours,’ he orders quietly.

  My pounding heart pounds harder. ‘You’re mine,’ I tell him with one hundred per cent conviction.

  ‘Elaborate.’

  He’s holding me on the cusp of orgasm, holding us tightly together, his groin pushed against my sex the only thing keeping me there. ‘You. Belong. To. Me.’ I spell it all out for him, loving the glint of gratification that replaces the smugness. ‘Me,’ I affirm. ‘No one else gets to taste you, feel you –’ I cup his cheeks with my palms and press my lips to his, biting down a little before licking my mark – ‘or love you.’

  A long moan emanates from my part-time gentleman. A happy moan. ‘Correct,’ he murmurs. ‘Lie back, sweet girl.’

  I comply willingly, releasing his face and dropping to my back as I look up at him. He smiles, that glorious, dizzying smile, then circles his groin deeply and slowly, pushing me instantly over the edge. ‘Ooooh,’ I sigh, and close my eyes, my hands delving into my blonde and holding my head as it shakes from side to side.

  ‘I concur,’ Miller moans, shuddering above me before quickly pulling out and resting his length on my stomach. It’s only then that I realise he’s not wearing a condom.

  He comes all over my tummy, his cock pulsing as it releases, and we both watch quietly.

  I don’t need to say what we both know. There was no room in his consumed mind to think of protection when he pushed me into William’s office. He was thinking only of marking what’s his in the office of one of his nemeses.

  Perverse? Yes. Do I care? No.

  He slowly lowers his body over mine and pins me to the desk, seeking out that place on my neck he loves, nuzzling lovingly. ‘I’m sorry.’

  The small smile that tickles my lips is probably as perverse as Miller’s unreasonable actions. ‘It’s . . .’

  The slamming of a door resonates through the room, cutting me short, and Miller’s face slowly lifts from my neck until he’s staring down at me. The calculating smile that slowly graces that lovely mouth of his makes me bite my lip to prevent mirroring it.

  Oh, God help us!

  ‘You arsehole.’ William’s rich voice is loaded with venom. ‘You fucking immoral arsehole.’

  My eyes widen as the enormity of our situation bashes past the sick satisfaction I’m feeling. Although Miller’s sly grin remains firmly in place. He dips and kisses me chastely. ‘It was a pleasure, sweet girl.’ He lifts from my body, keeping his back to William to conceal me as he fastens his trousers. He smiles down at me, and I know it’s his way of saying not to worry. He pulls my knickers into place and arranges my dress, which is a good job because I’m arrested by anxiety, unable to make myself decent. Then he pulls me from the desk and steps to the side, exposing me to the potent anger pouring from William’s powerful frame.

  Oh shit, he looks homicidal.

  William’s lip curls in disgust. He’s physically shaking. And now I am, too. Not Miller, though. No. He ignores the rage and calmly pulls a chair out and turns me, pushing my unresponsive body onto the seat. ‘My lady,’ he says, making me cough at his continued arrogance. He has a death wish. He must.

  I stare blankly forward and start nervously spinning my diamond on my finger, and in my peripheral vision, I see Miller making an over-the-top meal of smoothing his suit down before he takes a chair next to me. I cast him an edgy glance. He smiles. And he winks! He actually winks, making my hand shoot to m
y mouth as I start to snort all over the place. I try so hard to contain my giggles, try to disguise my laugh as a coughing fit. It’s such a waste of energy. There’s nothing funny about this situation. There wasn’t before Miller violated me on William’s desk, and there most definitely isn’t now. We’re both in big, big trouble. Double than what we were before we arrived.

  I remain stiff and pipe down when I hear the sound of footsteps closing in, while Miller makes himself comfy, relaxing back, resting his ankle on his knee and sliding his hands down the arms of the chair. William rounds the desk, pulling my wary eyes in their sockets to follow his path. The atmosphere is just . . . horrible.

  Lowering slowly to his chair, keeping pissed off grey eyes on a blasé Miller, he finally speaks. But William’s words stun me.

  ‘Your hair’s different.’ He turns to me, taking in my new hair, which is most likely a sexed-up mess now. My face feels damp, my body still buzzing.

  ‘I had it cut,’ I reply. Now that he’s turned his contempt onto me, I can feel my sass igniting.

  ‘By a hairdresser?’

  My body starts to shift awkwardly. This isn’t good. People usually have their hair cut by a hairdresser – it goes without saying – so the fact that he’s asked doesn’t sit well. ‘Yes.’ I’m not lying. I did have my hair cut by a hairdresser . . . the morning after I hacked it off myself.

  William’s hands form a steeple in front of his mouth as he watches me continue to fidget and avoid his eyes. I’m soon spared his glacial stare and words, though, when he turns them onto Miller. ‘What the fuck were you thinking?’ He’s injected some heat into his tone now, and I chance a glance at him, wondering if he’s questioning what he’s just found or what he undoubtedly knows of last night’s events at Ice.

  Miller clears his throat and reaches up to casually dust his shoulder down. It’s an indifferent act and meant to be. He’s pushing William’s buttons, and while I’m guilty of doing this on many occasions, I’m not sure now would be the time. I contained my sass . . . just. Miller needs to rein his impudence in, too. ‘She’s mine,’ he says, looking up to William. ‘I’ll do with her as I please.’

  I shrink in my chair, astounded by his pure egotism at such a delicate time. He’s the one who claims we need William’s help, so why the hell is he being such a twat? Rub along just fine? Sure! I know he has a strange way with words. I’ve come to accept it, but that statement is clearly designed to rile William further, and when I brave a peek at my mother’s ex-pimp and see steam virtually bursting from his ears, it’s very obvious, very quickly, that he’s succeeded.