I should continue walking, but flashbacks have halted my movements, my brain not prepared to home in on any instructions to make me walk away and is instead making me see things stored at the back of my mind that I’ve hidden for many years.
He growls and pushes me into the wall. I freeze. Nothing will work. Then he smashes his lips to mine and the bad memories multiply, but before I have a chance to find the mental and physical strength to fight him off, he’s absent and I’m left heaving, propped up against the wall, watching Miller physically restrain the struggling man.
‘What the f**k?’ the guy yells. ‘Get the f**k off me!’
Miller calmly removes his iPhone from his pocket and presses just one button. ‘Outer on floor one. Toilets.’
The guy continues to struggle, but he’s held firmly in place with little effort from Miller, who’s staring at me, his face completely impassive. But he’s mad. I can see it in the steely gloss of his blue eyes. There’s rage – hot rage, and I’m not at all comfortable seeing it. I start an unsteady walk away, moving to the side of the corridor when two huge doormen come barrelling towards me. I glance over my shoulder to weigh up my situation and see them take over Miller’s hold of the guy, leaving Miller to straighten his shirt and waistcoat before his eyes lift and find mine. He’s fuming, a telling sweat shimmering on his brow. He starts to shake his head slowly as he strides forward, his hair now falling onto his forehead from his exertion. I know I won’t get far, but I’ll make it to the bar. I need another drink, so I hurry, quickly reaching my intended destination and ordering a champagne, necking it before the empty is snatched from my grasp and his hand is locked on my nape, leading me away, my feet moving fast to keep up with his long strides behind me.
‘You’re not getting your four hours!’ I shout desperately.
‘I don’t f**king want them,’ he growls, roughly pushing me on. The declaration pricks at my chest repeatedly.
Many people nod, smile, and speak to Miller as he pushes me through the bar, but he doesn’t stop for anyone, not even acknowledging them. I can’t see his face to confirm it, but the wary looks on all of the faces we pass tell me all I need to know. His grip of my neck is tight over my hair, and he makes no attempt to ease up, even though he must be aware of the pressure of it. We’re heading for the entrance of the bar, the glow of big glass doors coming into view with people still lining up to gain entry.
Something catches my eye and I do a double-take, spotting Miller’s business associate. She’s staring open-mouthed at Miller manhandling me, her drink at her lips ready to sip, clearly shocked by what she’s witnessing. Even through my tipsiness, I manage for the first time to wonder what Miller is telling her about me.
‘Livy!’ I hear Gregory from behind and try to turn, to no avail.
‘Keep walking,’ he orders.
‘Livy!’
Miller halts and swings around, taking me with him. ‘She’s coming with me.’
‘No.’ Gregory shakes his head, moving forward, looking at me. ‘Coffee-hater?’ he asks and I nod, making Gregory’s face flame with guilt. He fed me to the lion, and then skulked off to have his later with Ben.
‘Miller,’ I answer, confirming he is exactly who Gregory thinks, but wondering how he didn’t know that already if he’s been working for him.
‘You can stay and have a drink,’ Miller says calmly, ‘or I can have you removed from my club – your choice.’ Miller’s words, although calm, are threatening, but I have no doubt that he’ll follow through on his threat.
‘If I’m leaving, then Livy’s coming with me.’
‘Wrong.’ Miller fires back simply and confidently. ‘Your lover will probably ask you to do the sensible thing and let me take her.’ He’s playing dirty.
Ben appears from behind Gregory, his face washed out and full of apprehension. ‘What are you going to do?’ he asks Miller.
‘That depends on whether you make a big deal of this. I’m going to my office with Olivia, and you two are going back to the bar to enjoy a drink on me.’
Gregory and Ben both flick cautious eyes to me and Miller, both clearly in turmoil. It makes me speak up.
‘I’m okay,’ I say quietly. ‘Go have a drink.’
‘No.’ Gregory steps forward. ‘Not after what you’ve told me, Livy.’
‘I’m okay,’ I repeat slowly, before looking up at Miller in a silent indication to lead on. His grip eases instantly, his anger receding, and his fingers start kneading my flesh, working some life back into the stiffness.
‘Miller?’
I cast my eyes to the left and see the woman. She’s followed us and her cherry-red, pursed lips tell me she recognises me despite the makeover. Then I look up to Miller. He looks totally detached as he stares at her. This is awkward, the tension ricocheting between all five of us tangible, and for very different reasons. I feel like an interloper, but it doesn’t stop me from letting Miller guide me away from the awful scene.
He’s silent as he leads me down some stairs and through a maze of corridors until we’re at a door, where he curses while bashing in a code on the metal keypad before pushing his way through. I expect to be released after he’s kicked it shut, but he doesn’t let up, instead directing me to a big white desk and spinning me around. He pushes me onto my back, pulls my thighs apart and lays himself all over me, grabbing my cheeks in his hands and forcing his lips to mine, his tongue pushing past and starting an impossibly smooth rotation in my mouth. I want to ask him what the hell he’s doing, but I know I’m going to savour this. I won’t, however, savour the heated words that I know will be exchanged following this kiss, so I accept it. I accept him. With this kiss, I’m accepting everything that he has done tonight and before that, when he’s played with my heart – filled it, and then quickly drained it again, leaving it a mass of aching muscle in my chest.