I swallow hard, pain slicing through my heart. No words are coming to me and, even if they did, I wouldn’t get them past my thick tongue.
‘I know what he does and how he does it,’ William continues. ‘He’s known as London’s most notorious male escort for a reason, Olivia. I worked too hard to keep you from my own business dealings to see you blindly jump into Miller Hart’s dark place. I’ve been in this world for a long, long time. There’s not much I don’t know, if anything. And I know this . . .’ He pauses, leaving a lingering, unwanted silence hovering between us. ‘He will break you.’
I flinch at his cold claim. I’m desperate to tell him that Miller showed me nothing but tenderness . . . until that night at the hotel. The night William found me racing away from where Miller had restrained me to a bedpost and treated me like any of his other clients. I still wasn’t sure what was worse – his cold impassiveness that night or the way his clever fingers and tongue still made me come in exquisite torture.
‘Thanks for the news flash,’ are the only words I can get out through my pain.
‘You’re your mother’s daughter, Olivia.’
‘Don’t say that!’ I yell, making William recoil. He doesn’t retaliate, though. He simply takes a sip of his drink and waits for me to calm down. ‘I’m nothing like my mother. She gave up her daughter for a man who didn’t want her.’
He leans forward, his grey eyes blazing. ‘A relationship between me and Gracie Taylor would have been impossible. Don’t you dare think for a minute that I wasn’t trying to do what was best for her. Or for you.’
I’m slightly taken aback by William’s unusual show of anger. I’ve never seen him anything less than perfectly composed.
He takes another sip of his drink before continuing. ‘And a relationship between you and Miller Hart would be equally impossible.’
‘I know,’ I whisper, feeling those damn tears pinching the backs of my eyes. ‘I already know that.’
‘I’m glad, but knowing something is bad for you doesn’t stop you from wanting it. Pursuing it. I was bad for Gracie, yet she wouldn’t give up.’
‘Will you stop comparing me to my mother, William?’ I shake my head, not prepared to listen to the cold, hard truth any longer. ‘I really should get home. Nan will be worrying.’
‘Then call her.’ He nods to my bag. ‘I’m enjoying the company and we have dessert and coffee to order yet.’
‘My phone’s broken.’ It’s the perfect excuse to escape. I make to stand, collecting my satchel from the floor beside me. ‘Thank you for dinner.’
‘I sense no appreciation in your tone, Olivia. How am I supposed to get hold of you?’
His question worries me. ‘Why would you want to?’
‘To ensure your safety.’
‘From what?’
‘Miller Hart.’
I roll my eyes, forgetting, again, who I’m dealing with. ‘I’ve survived just fine without your supervision, William. I think I’m good.’ I turn and walk away from him, praying it’s the last I see of him. This dinner, although enlightening, has only brought back too much hurt which, on top of my already searing pain, might be the final nail in the coffin.
‘You won’t survive with Miller Hart in your life, Olivia.’
I skid to a stop on my Converse, his declaration freezing my veins. I dare not look at him for fear of what facial expression I might find. He’s not in my life, I say to myself, hearing the movement of a chair and slow footsteps, but I keep my eyes forward until William has rounded me and is looking down at my pathetic form.
‘I know a woman captured by a man when I see one, Olivia. I saw it in your mother and I can see it in you.’ He takes my dropped chin and lifts it. There’s an element of knowing in his grey gaze. ‘I can see you’re hurt and angry, and those two emotions can make you do silly things. His business conduct is questionable at best. And you should know that he’s in Madrid for a few days.’ William flashes me a telling look, daring me to enquire further. I don’t need to. He’s with a client.
‘I’m a sensible girl,’ I murmur meagrely. I can hear the uncertainty in my tone. I don’t believe in my strength any more than William does, despite knowing everything he says is the cold, hard truth. He’s right to be concerned. ‘I can take care of myself.’
He drops his lips to my forehead and sighs through his delicate kiss. ‘You need more than words, Olivia.’ William takes my satchel from my shoulder and starts to guide me from the restaurant. ‘I’ll take you home.’
‘I want to walk,’ I argue, breaking free of his hold.
‘Be sensible, Olivia. It’s late and dark.’ He reclaims me, tighter than before. ‘Anyway, we’ll stop by a store and replace your phone.’
‘I can buy my own phone,’ I protest.