‘I don’t need help!’ Cassie spits nastily. ‘You’re the one who needs f**king help.’ She squirms free of Tony’s hold and starts pulling at her untidy dress, yanking the hem back down to her knee. ‘You’re prepared to risk everything for that?’ Her arm shoots out towards me.
It? That? Oh, I might be stunned by the events unravelling before me, but her persistent insolence and insults are beginning to piss me off. ‘Who the hell do you think you are?’ I stand, immediately aware that Miller has halted with his gritty marching. ‘You think a few temper tantrums and bitter words will break him?’ I step forward, feeling my confidence swell, especially when Cassie snaps her rotten mouth shut. ‘You can’t stop him.’
‘It’s not me you should be worried about.’ Her lip curls. They’re just more words, but the acute manner in which they are delivered sends anxious tingles shooting up my spine.
‘That’s it.’ Tony intervenes, taking Cassie’s arm and leading her from the office. ‘You are your own worst enemy, Cassandra.’
‘Always have been,’ she agrees on a laugh, allowing herself to be guided to the doorway without a fuss or fight. But then she slows to a halt at the threshold and turns leisurely, sniffing as she does. ‘It was nice knowing you, Miller Hart.’
Her parting words cool the heated emotions that are dominating the atmosphere in Miller’s office, leaving the air thick with tension. The door slams, courtesy of a riled Tony, and Miller and I are left alone.
He’s edgy.
I’m disturbed.
We both remain silent for what seems like for ever, my mind playing repeats of the past ten minutes as my wet body and injured face slowly start to register. I begin to shiver and my arms instinctively wrap around my body. It’s a protection mechanism. It has nothing to do with my chilly bones.
My gaze is cemented to the floor, not daring or wanting to torture my eyes with the sight of Miller in full-force psycho mode. They’ve had more than they can handle in the last couple of days. These outbursts are becoming too frequent. He needs help. The stark reality of Miller’s life just keeps getting starker.
‘Don’t deprive me of your face, Olivia Taylor.’ The softness of his voice is strained, an attempt to instil some ease into me. I’m not sure it can work. I don’t think anything can work. I’m again questioning my ability to chase Miller’s demons away because as I see it right now, I’m fuelling the fire. And I hate that. I hate my constant doubting because of these interferers. ‘Olivia.’ I hear the light thud of footsteps approaching, but I keep my eyes down.
I shake my head and my chin begins to tremble.
‘Let me see those sparkling eyes.’ The warmth of his palm connects with my sore cheek, sending a flash of pain coursing through me. I recoil on a hiss, turning my face away from his view. I already know that it will be glowing red from the brute force of the whack I’ve just absorbed and that will undoubtedly enrage Miller more. He seems to be calming. I need to keep it that way. His hand retracts slightly, hovering just in my field of vision. ‘May I?’ he asks quietly.
I fold, inside and out, my fallen heart crumbling, my weak body collapsing. He’s silent as he catches me, like he fully expected my body to give, and he takes us down to the floor, rocking me in his strong arms. The familiarity of his bare chest against me doesn’t have its usual effect. I sob – horrible gut-wrenching sobs. It’s all too much. The strength that Miller feeds me seems to have been swallowed up, leaving me a weak waif of nothing. I’m no good for him. I can’t see him through his darkness because my own world is becoming too dark in the process. William is right. A relationship with Miller Hart is impossible. Apart, we are barely functioning. Together, we’re dead and incredibly alive at the same time. We’re impossible.
‘Please don’t cry,’ he begs, squeezing me to him, his low tone now sincere and unforced. ‘I can’t bear to see you like this.’
I say nothing, my sniffles preventing me from speaking, even if I knew what to say. Which I don’t. The best part of my existence has revolved around avoiding a cruel world. But Miller Hart has taken me and put me in the centre of that world.
And I know I will never escape.
His face is buried in my hair, and he’s humming that comforting melody. It’s a desperate attempt to pull me round. He feels my despondency. He’s worried, and when he’s hummed for minutes upon minutes and I still haven’t ceased weeping, he growls low and stands with me secured against him, then carries me quietly into the bathroom.
He positions me on the toilet, with no need for precision, and pushes my matted hair from my face with the utmost care to avoid my sore cheek. I finally allow my stinging eyes to lift along with my head to face him. His blue eyes reveal horror as they focus on the side of my face, and he takes a deep, calming breath.
‘Wait,’ he orders harshly as he retrieves a facecloth from a small pile beside the sink and runs it under the cold tap. He’s kneeling at my feet quickly, the cloth coating the palm of his hand. ‘I’ll be gentle.’