I roll my eyes and then jump on a gasp as the door flies open and Cassie staggers in. ‘Shit!’ I curse under my breath, my heart speeding with fright. Miller’s on his feet in an instant and crossing the room.
‘Cassie,’ he sighs tiredly, his broad shoulders slumping as he comes to a halt.
‘Well, hello!’ she laughs, holding the door for support. She’s drunk, and not just the tipsy, merry kind. I’m not looking forward to this, but however pissed she might be, she still looks sickeningly perfect. Her wobbly gaze is as rooted to Miller as it could be, given her drunken state. She hasn’t even noticed I’m here. I’m invisible.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘My date was cancelled.’ She waves an indifferent hand through the air before slamming the door shut so hard that shock waves ripple up the walls of Miller’s office.
My eyes creep between the two of them, back and forth, liking the fact that she’s been in here only a second and Miller’s patience already seems exhausted. I hope he manhandles her from the room again. What I don’t like, though, are Cassie’s inquisitive eyes that are rooted on Miller. And I know why.
‘Look at the state of you!’ She’s truly shocked, and I join her in the shock department when she stumbles over to Miller and starts laying her manicured hands all over his wet body. It takes a whole lifetime’s worth of restraint not to throw myself across Miller’s office and wrestle her to the ground. I want to scream at her to remove her hands from him. ‘Oh, Miller, baby, you’re all wet.’
Baby?
In an attempt to distract myself, I start twisting my ring around my finger, over and over until I’m sure I’ve rubbed a blister into my skin. She’s stroking him, cooing and fussing, like he might die because he’s got a little wet.
Get your f**king hands off him!
‘Miller, what happened? Who did this to you?’
‘I did it to myself, Cassie,’ he says touchily, taking her palms from his chest and releasing them. He steps away, and I relax a little at the distance he’s put between them. Not for long, though, because the relentless trollop closes it back up. I’m stiff as a board, conjuring up a pile of verbal abuse to lob across the room, and I’m quite alarmed by it. I force some calming thoughts, but they’re fast transforming into blood-boiling fury.
‘What do you mean?’ she questions uncertainly, eyes and hands beginning to roam again.
‘We were having a picnic in the park,’ I pipe up, no longer prepared to sit back and watch Miller tackle the pressing presence of Cassie alone. ‘We had a lovely time,’ I add, just for good measure.
Her hands freeze in place on Miller’s torso, both of them gawking at me, Miller tired, Cassie shocked. ‘Olivia,’ she purrs. ‘What a surprise.’
I would think she’s being sarcastic, but even if her low purr isn’t shocked, her face is. Then she turns her incredulous look onto Miller, who exhales his building frustration.
‘What do you want, Cassie?’ He removes her greedy palms from his chest again and starts unbuttoning his waistcoat. ‘I don’t plan on being here long.’
‘Well’ – she saunters over to the drinks cabinet and pours herself a large straight vodka – ‘I was hoping you’d take me out for drinks.’
My hackles rise, and I shoot a look to Miller, who’s now shrugging off his waistcoat. His wet shirt is transparent and clinging everywhere. I cough on a choke. He looks dreamlike, and Cassie has noticed, too. All sorts of conflicting things are happening, my sass telling me to rip a strip off Cassie, my lust telling me to tackle Miller to the floor and eat him alive. Nothing about this situation is comfortable. Then Miller removes his wet shirt, exposing vast planes of taut, smooth, cut leanness, and my mouth drops open, not because of what I’m presented with, but because he’s openly offered the stunning sight to Cassie’s greedy eyes.
Her body sways as she studies Miller’s wet, flexing muscles, her vodka paused at her lips. ‘I think you’ve had enough to drink,’ Miller grumbles, making his way to the bathroom. I watch his back disappear through the doorway, knowing Cassie has followed his path, too. My skin starts to prickle, feeling animosity hitting me. Now she’s looking at me, and even though I know I’ll probably be reduced to cinders from her filthy look, I can’t help chancing a glance.
‘What have you done to him?’ she spits across the room, waving her glass of vodka at the bathroom doorway.