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  William shoots up from his chair and smashes his palms down on the table, leaning forward, his face twisted with anger. ‘You’re a fraction away from being crushed, Hart! And I’m putting myself in the middle of this fucked-up situation to make sure that doesn’t happen!’

  I fly back in my chair to put as much distance between me and William – a vain attempt to dodge the violent vibes shooting from his heaving body. This situation is getting more unbearable by the second. Miller slowly rises from his seat and mirrors William’s pose. It’s about to get worse. I’m not mistaking Miller’s calm, fluid move as a sign of control. His ticking jaw and wild eyes say otherwise. I’m frozen and useless while these two powerful men have a face-off.

  ‘You know as well as I do that I can and will break every bone in each of their parasite bodies.’ He practically whispers the words in William’s face, his shoulders pulsing steadily . . . almost calmly. ‘Make no mistake, I won’t think twice, and I’ll be laughing my way through it.’

  ‘Fuck!’ William curses, his hand flying out and grabbing Miller’s shirt at his throat, bunching it tightly and pulling him closer. I jump up in shock, yet I don’t shout at them to stop. No words are forming.

  ‘Let . . . go . . . of . . . me.’ Miller speaks slowly and concisely, his tone dripping in ferocity. ‘Now.’

  Both men hold still for what seems like forever, until William curses again and shoves Miller back before plummeting to his arse and dropping his head back to look up to the ceiling. ‘You’ve really fucked up this time, Hart. Sit down, Olivia.’

  My bum meets the chair fast, not prepared to cause further problems, and I look to Miller, watching as he straightens out his shirt and fiddles with the knot of his tie before taking a seat. I feel a stupid sense of relief when he reaches over and takes my hand, squeezing tightly, his way of telling me he’s fine. He’s in control. ‘I assume you’re referring to yesterday evening.’

  A sarcastic laugh spills from William’s mouth and his head drops, his eyes flicking between me and Miller. ‘You mean as opposed to you marking what you think is your territory in my office?’

  ‘What I know.’

  Oh, good God! ‘OK, stop!’ I shout, swinging my exasperation onto Miller. ‘Just cut it out!’ Both men retreat in their chairs, surprise evident on their annoyingly handsome faces. ‘Enough of the macho bullshit, please!’ I yank my hand free from Miller’s, but he quickly reclaims it, bringing it to his mouth and resting his lips on the back, kissing it repeatedly.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says sincerely.

  I take a deep breath, then direct my attention on William, who’s regarding Miller closely, thoughtfully. ‘I thought you’d accepted there’s no breaking us,’ I say, noticing Miller halt with the continuous rains of kisses he’s applying to the back of my hand. After William helped us flee London, I was certain there would be no more interfering on his part.

  He sighs, and I feel my hand being lowered into Miller’s lap. ‘I’m constantly having an argument with myself on this, Olivia. I can see love when it’s staring me in the face. But I can also see disaster when it’s staring me in the face. I haven’t got a fucking clue what to do for the best.’ He clears his throat and looks at me all apologetically. ‘Excuse my language.’

  I let out a sarcastic puff of air. Excuse his language?

  ‘Where do we go from here?’ William goes on, ignoring my bemusement and looking to Miller.

  Yes, let’s get this done with. I look at Miller, too, making him shift uncomfortably in his chair. ‘I still want out,’ Miller says, clearly uncomfortable under two sets of watchful eyes, yet his declaration is delivered with a load of determination. Determination is good. Although I’ve silently concluded that it isn’t enough.

  ‘Yes, we’ve established that. But I’ll ask you again, do you think they’ll let you walk away?’ It’s a rhetorical question. It requires no answer. And it doesn’t get one. So William continues. ‘Why did you take her there, Hart? Knowing how delicate things are, why?’

  I seize up. Every guilty muscle in my body solidifies as a result of that question. I can’t let him take the flak for that one. ‘He didn’t take me,’ I whisper, ashamed, feeling Miller’s hold of my hand tighten. ‘Miller was at Ice. I was at home. I had a call on my phone. Unknown number.’

  William frowns. ‘Go on.’

  I gulp down some courage and look at Miller out of the corner of my eye, catching a soft, loving expression. ‘I could hear a conversation and I didn’t like what I heard.’ I wait for the obvious question but gasp when William says something else instead.

  ‘Sophia.’ He closes his eyes and inhales warily. ‘Sophia-fucking-Reinhoff.’ His eyes open and land on Miller with a bang. ‘So much for playing down your relationship with Olivia.’

  ‘Miller did nothing,’ I argue, leaning forward. ‘I was the one who caused this situation. I went to the club. I tipped Miller over the edge.’

  ‘How?’

  My mouth snaps shut and I’m far back in my chair again. He won’t want to hear this any more than Miller wanted to see it. ‘I . . .’ My face heats under William’s expectant look. ‘I . . .’

  ‘She was recognised.’ Miller steps in, and I know it’s because he’ll be blaming this part on William.

  ‘Miller—’

  ‘No, Olivia.’ He cuts me off and leans forward a little. ‘She was recognised by one of your clients.’

  The regret that invades William’s face fills me with guilt.

  ‘I watched as some slime ball tried to claim her from me, offered to take care of her.’ He’s beginning to tremble, the reminder re-stoking his anger. ‘Tell me, Mr Anderson, what would you have done?’

  ‘Killed him.’

  I recoil in response to William’s short, menacing reply, knowing for certain he absolutely means it.

  ‘Well, I spared him –’ Miller relaxes back in his chair – ‘just. Does that make me a better man than you?’

  ‘I believe it might,’ William replies, no hesitation and with complete honesty. For some reason, I’m not surprised.

  ‘I’m glad we’ve cleared that up. Now, let’s move on.’ Miller shifts in his chair. ‘I’m getting out, I’m taking Cassie with me, and I’ll tell you exactly how.’

  William regards him carefully for a while, and then both men turn to me. ‘You want me to leave?’

  ‘Wait in the bar for me,’ Miller says coolly, showing me a face that I’ve fast become familiar with. It’s his I’m-not-budging face.

  ‘So, you only brought me in here to fuck me on his desk?’

  ‘Olivia!’ William scolds me, pulling my contemptuous glare from Miller to him for a few moments. He’s returning my glare, and if I wasn’t so slighted at the moment, I’d snarl at him. But I accept I can be of no help here. In fact, everything that has brought us to now only confirms that I’m a hindrance, but I’m pissed off for . . . everything. For feeling helpless, for being difficult.

  Standing quietly, I turn my back without another word and escape the tension, shutting the door quietly behind me. I walk numbly down the corridor, navigating my way to the ladies’ washroom, ignoring the fact that I know exactly which way to go. I disregard the looks of interest being thrown at me by men, women, and staff on my way. It’s hard, but I succeed, the knowledge of what further state of hopelessness the looks could cause giving me the necessary strength to do so.

  Once I’ve used the toilet, washed my hands, and stared at myself blankly in the mirror for an age, I make tracks to the Lounge Bar and settle on a barstool, quickly ordering a glass of wine – anything to focus on except what may be going down in William’s office.

  ‘Madam.’ The barman smiles, sliding my drink across to me.

  ‘Thank you.’ I take a long swig and cast my eyes around the bar, grateful that Carl is no longer here. A quick look at my phone tells me it’s only noon. It feels like this morning has been dragging out over years, but the thought of seeing Nan and taking her home in a few hours l
ifts my tired mood.

  I feel myself relax under the peaceful surroundings of the bar and my continuous sips of wine . . . until that feeling – the one I haven’t felt since before we left for New York – is suddenly bombarding me. Chills. Prickling chills jumping onto my shoulders, and then the raised neck hair joins them. Reaching up and stroking the back of my neck, I glance to the side, seeing nothing unusual, only men sipping from tumblers, talking quietly, and a woman seated on the stool next to me. I brush off the tingling sensations and sip some more.

  The barman approaches, smiling as he passes to attend to the lady. ‘Hendrick’s, please,’ she orders, her soft, husky voice dripping with sex, just how I remember most of William’s women sounded. It’s like they’ve taken lessons in perfecting the art of verbal seduction, even something as simple as ordering a drink sounding erotic. Despite the reminder, I smile to myself, and I have no idea why. Maybe because I know for sure that I never sounded like that.

  I take my wine to my lips, watching as the barman pours and passes the lady her glass before turning my back slightly to get the entrance of the bar into view, waiting for Miller and William to appear. How long will they be? Are they still alive? I try to stop worrying, finding it easy when all of those unwanted sensations return, making me turn slowly, automatically.

  I find the woman facing me, her glass held lightly in her dainty fingers.

  Fingers like mine.

  My heart catapults up to my head and explodes, scattering millions of memories into a haze that floats before me. The visions are clear. Too clear.

  ‘My baby girl,’ she whispers.

  Chapter 15

  The smash of my glass as it drops from my lifeless hand and clashes with the floor doesn’t even rip our eyes apart.

  Sapphire on sapphire.

  Sorrow on shock.

  Mother on daughter.

  ‘No,’ I whimper, falling to my feet from the stool and backing away on unstable legs. ‘No!’ I whirl around to escape, dizzy, shaking and breathless, but crash into a huge chest. I feel strong palms circle my upper arms, and I look up to find Carl assessing my distraught face with worried eyes. It only confirms that what I think I just saw is real. The evil guy looks apprehensive – a look that doesn’t suit him at all.

  Tears burst from my tortured eyes as he holds me in place, anxious vibes shooting from his big body into me. ‘Fucking hell,’ he growls. ‘Gracie, what the fuck are you playing at?’

  The mention of my mother’s name injects life into my numb body. ‘Let me go!’ I scream, and buck in Carl’s hold, distressed and panicked. ‘Please, let me go!’

  ‘Olivia?’ Her voice seeps into the corners of my mind, prompting a barrage of lost memories to attack me. ‘Olivia, please.’

  I hear her voice from when I was a small child. I hear her humming lullabies, feel her soft fingers stroking my cheek. I see her back for the last time walking out of Nan’s kitchen. It’s all confusing me. Her face has spiked it all. ‘Please,’ I beg, turning my welling eyes up to Carl, my voice trembling, my heart choking me. ‘Please.’

  His lips straighten and every possible emotion plays like a camera roll across the evil guy’s face – sorrow, sadness, guilt, anger. ‘Fuck,’ he curses, and I’m suddenly being pulled behind the bar. He smashes his fist on a concealed button behind a shelf full of spirits, and the whole building is suddenly screaming, alarm bells ringing so loudly around us, making everyone jump up from their chairs. The hype of activity is instant, and the unbearable sound is strangely soothing. He’s drawing the attention of everyone, but I know he wants just one man here.

  ‘Olivia, baby.’

  I feel an electric shock fly through my body as her soft touch meets my arm. It has my small frame bucking again in Carl’s hold, except this time I manage to free myself.

  ‘Gracie, leave her!’ Carl roars as I bolt from behind the bar, my legs instantly numb from the speed I’ve achieved so quickly. I can think of nothing except escaping. Get out of here. Run away. I make it to the bar door and take the corner quickly, just catching her coming after me, but then William appears from nowhere and blocks her.

  ‘Gracie!’ William’s tone is oozing threat as he fights to hold her back. ‘You stupid woman!’

  ‘Don’t let her go!’ she yells. ‘Please, don’t let her go!’ I can hear the anguish in her voice, see the terror on her beautiful face as it disappears from my view when I round the corner. I can see it. But I don’t feel it. I can only feel my own hurt, anger, confusion, and I can’t cope with any of it. I return my focus forward and pelt for the doors that’ll take me away from this hellhole, but I’m suddenly not moving anymore, and the sensation of my legs working but the door not coming any closer takes a while to sink in past the distress consuming me.

  ‘Olivia, I’m here.’ Miller’s soothing words are whispered quietly into my ear, but however hushed they are, I hear him perfectly over the screaming alarms and frantic activity around me. ‘Shhhh.’

  I whimper and turn, throwing my arms around him and holding on for dear life. ‘Help me,’ I sob into his shoulder. ‘Take me away, please.’ I feel my feet leave the ground, feel myself held secure against his chest.

  ‘Shhhh.’ He cups the back of my head, pushing my face into the comfort of his neck as he starts to pace away. His strides are purposeful. I can feel the panic in me beginning to subside, just from being immersed in his thing. ‘We’re leaving, Olivia. I’m getting you away from here.’

  My dead muscles come to life under his fierce hold of me and his calming tones, and I squeeze my appreciation, no words forming to voice it. I’m vaguely aware of the blaring sirens cutting abruptly, but I’m more than aware of footsteps pounding behind us. Two pairs of pounding feet. And neither are Miller’s.

  ‘Don’t take her away from me!’

  I swallow hard and push my face farther into Miller’s neck as he ignores my mother’s demand and marches on.

  ‘Gracie!’ William’s bellow dilutes the stamping of feet, making Miller’s stride falter slightly, but my head shaking into him soon kicks him back into top gear. ‘Gracie, damn it! Leave her!’

  ‘No!’

  We’re suddenly jerked to a stop and Miller growls, swinging around to confront my mother. ‘Let go of my arm,’ he hisses, his tone bursting with the same level of threat that I’ve heard him use on others. The fact that this woman is my mother is of no consequence to Miller. ‘I won’t repeat myself.’ He remains still, obviously waiting for her to let go rather than yanking himself from her grip.

  ‘I’m not letting you take her.’ Gracie’s resolute voice puts the fear of God in me. I can’t face her. I don’t want to face her. ‘I need to talk to her. Explain so many things.’

  Miller begins to pulsate against me, and it’s in this moment I fully comprehend my situation. He’s looking at my mother. He’s looking at the woman who abandoned me. ‘She’ll talk to you when she’s ready,’ he says quietly, but there’s no mistaking the warning laced in his words. ‘If she’s ready.’

  I feel his face turn into the side of my head and his lips push into my hair, breathing in deeply. He’s reassuring me. He’s telling me I’m going to be doing nothing that I don’t want to do. And I love him so much for it.

  ‘But I need to talk to her now.’ Determination is rife in her tone. ‘She needs to know—’

  Miller loses it in the blink of an eye. ‘Does she look ready to talk to you?’ he roars, making me jump in his arms. ‘You abandoned her!’

  ‘I had no choice.’ My mother’s words are shaky, her emotion obvious. Yet I feel no empathy, and I wonder right now if that makes me inhuman. Heartless. No, I have a heart, and it’s pounding in my chest right now, reminding me of her cruel actions all those years ago. My heart has no room for Gracie Taylor. It’s too consumed by Miller Hart.

  ‘We all have choices,’ Miller says, ‘and I’ve made mine. I’d walk through the bowels of hell for this girl, and I am. You didn’t. That’s what makes me worthy of
her love. That’s what makes me deserve her.’

  My sobs return full force as a result of his admission. Knowing he loves me fills the emptiness within me with pure, powerful gratitude. Hearing him confirm that he thinks he’s worthy of my love makes it all overflow.

  ‘You self-righteous arsehole,’ Gracie seethes, that Taylor sass flying up to support her.

  ‘Gracie, darling,’ William pipes up.

  ‘No, Will! I left to prevent her from being subjected to the depravity I faced. I’ve skipped from country to country for eighteen years, killing myself on a daily basis that I couldn’t be with her. That I couldn’t be a mum! I’ll be damned if he’s going to strut into her life and toss every painful moment I’ve endured all these years to shit!’

  That statement registers loud and clear through my crippling agony. Her pain? Her fucking pain? My need to jump from Miller’s arms and slap her face sends me momentarily dizzy with anger, but Miller pulls a long, steady breath of air and flexes his arm around my waist, distracting me from my intention. He knows. He knows what those words have done to me. He shifts a palm to the back of my leg and tugs in a sign for me to respond, so I wrap my thighs around his waist in acknowledgement, and maybe for my mother’s benefit.

  This is all I need. He’s not giving me up and I’m not letting him go. Not even for my mother.

  ‘She’s mine,’ Miller states coolly, calmly, and confidently. ‘Not even you will rob her from me.’ His almost unreasonable promise fills me with hope. ‘Take me on, Gracie. I fucking dare you.’ He turns and strides out of the Society, me coiled around him like a scarf – a tightly knotted scarf that will never be undone.