I stagger and trip in front of Tony, almost disorientated, and when we arrive at the door to Miller’s office, he punches in the code, swings the door open, and guides me to Miller’s desk. He places me carefully in the chair. ‘I don’t want to be here,’ I murmur pitifully, blanking out the comfort I gain from being in one of Miller’s perfectly precise spaces. ‘Why did you bring me here?’ He should have put me in a taxi and sent me home.
Tony shuts the door and turns to face me. ‘There’s something on the desk for you,’ he says with zero enthusiasm, and I can tell it’s because he doesn’t want me to have whatever it is. I cast my eyes across the glossy white surface, seeing the cordless phone in its usual spot, and in the centre of the desk is an envelope, placed so accurately, the bottom flush with the edge of the desk, only Miller could have put it there.
Instinct makes me sink into the leather of his chair, putting distance between the harmless piece of paper and me. I’m cautious and certain that I’m not going to want to read what’s contained inside. ‘From him?’ I ask, not removing my eyes from the envelope.
‘Yes. He stopped by on his way to St Pancras.’
I’m not looking at Tony, but I know he’s just exhaled a silent stream of weary breath. My hand lifts slowly and takes the envelope, which has my full name scrolled across the front in writing I recognise. Miller’s writing. The shakes are unavoidable, no matter how hard I try to control them, as I pull the note from inside. I’m vainly attempting to regulate my breathing, but heart palpitations are making it an impossible task to achieve. I unfold the paper and brush at my eyes to restore my clear vision. Then I hold my breath.
My sweet girl,
How did I know you would end up here? The security cameras have been turned off this evening by my request. If you choose to allow another man to taste you, then it is no more than I deserve, but I could never bear to witness it. Thinking about it is torturous enough. Seeing it could push me to kill. I’ve hurt you and for that I hope I burn in hell when I arrive there. Of all my wrongs, you are my biggest regret, Olivia Taylor. I don’t regret worshipping you or indulging in you. I regret the impossibility of my life and my inability to give you for ever. You must trust me and the decision that I’ve made, and know I’ve made it with a heavy heart. It kills me to say it, but I hope you can forget about me and find a man worthy of your love. I’m not that man.
My fascination will never die, sweet girl. I can deprive my eyes of seeing you and deny my mouth from tasting you. But there is nothing I can do to heal my shattered heart.
Eternally yours,
Miller Hart
‘No,’ I sob, all built-up air in my lungs rushing from my mouth on painful gasps. The H of Miller’s name blurs when a tear hits the paper and makes the ink run down the page. The sight of the smudged, distorted letter matches me.
‘Are you all right?’ Tony’s voice breaks into my chaotic thoughts, and I lift my heavy eyes to another person opposed to our relationship. Everyone is hell-bent on breaking us, as I once was, too. And after all of Miller’s loss of temper when he’d feared I’d lapsed in fortitude, it’s now him.
‘I hate him.’ I spit the hurtful words with total sincerity. This letter hasn’t eased the pain. His words are conflicting, making coming to terms with his decision harder to accept. His decision. What about mine? What about me and my willingness to accept him and let him fill me with the strength I need to help him? Or is he beyond help? Is he too close to the depths of hell for me to pull him back? All of these thoughts and questions are only assisting in turning my pain into hatred. After everything we have endured, he shouldn’t get to make this decision on his own. I drop the letter to his desk and stand sharply. He’s hiding. He has hidden all of his life . . . until he met me. He showed me a man I’m certain no one else has seen before. He hides behind manners that defy the brusque, arrogant arsehole and suits that defy the relaxed Miller when we’re lost in each other. He’s a fraud, just like he said.
A red mist engulfs me and I stumble past his desk, practically falling to the drinks cabinet on the other side of his office. I spend a few moments running my eyes across the perfectly placed bottles and glasses, my breathing loud and erratic.
‘Livy?’ Tony sounds close and very alarmed.
I scream, deranged, swiping my arm across the surface, sending every perfectly placed item that adorned the unit smashing to the office floor on a loud crash.
‘Livy!’ Tony’s suddenly grabbing at my thrashing limbs, fighting to restrain me as I continue to shriek and battle against him like a woman possessed. ‘Calm down!’