His face twists in pain and he yanks me to him. ‘You beautiful, smart girl.’
Silence falls, and so does the heavy burden of a million worrying issues. They need to be resolved, dealt with, whatever, but right in this moment in time, I can’t bear it. I’m happy hiding from the cruel world we’re trapped in by remaining submerged in the comfort Miller provides – the comfort I’ve come to depend on.
‘I won’t lose, Olivia,’ he vows. ‘I promise.’
I don’t move from his clutch, instead nodding my acknowledgment while he cuddles me fiercely.
‘Well, well, well.’
The cocky greeting freezes the blood in my veins, and both Miller and I snap our heads up. I don’t like what I see, and I definitely don’t like the angry lines cutting into his handsome face.
‘There is little point in me furnishing you with a phone, Olivia, if you don’t answer it.’
‘William,’ I breathe, feeling Miller’s body turn to lead beneath me. Oh God, Gregory, William, a ton of shit from Sophia. This situation couldn’t get any worse. I feel anarchy on the brink of explosion, and the instant hostility pouring from Miller at William’s arrival doesn’t lessen my trepidation. This could turn very ugly, very quickly.
William strides into the room, his phone in hand, flicking a quick unfriendly look to Gregory as he passes. Poor Gregory is still slumped against the wall, his hand still rubbing at his neck. But the appearance of my mum’s ex-pimp has his immediate interest.
I’m suddenly standing, and Miller straightens to full height, his torso puffing out like a gorilla set to charge. ‘Anderson,’ he virtually growls, reclaiming me and pulling my back into his bare chest.
William helps himself to a Scotch, musing for a few moments before selecting a dumpy bottle from the back. ‘You said you’d call me, Olivia.’
I ignore his observation and wait with bated breath for Miller to launch into obsessive orbit at the sight of an interferer, someone who is not only interfering with his relationship, but also with his precisely placed liquor bottles. He’s going to flip his lid. ‘What are you doing here?’ I ask.
William turns slowly and swirls the dark liquid in the glass before sniffing it and giving a sharp nod of approval. I feel Miller’s hackles rise and I know William feels it, too, even from across the room. But he ignores it. He’s goading him. He knows about Miller’s OCD. ‘Miller called me,’ William states matter-of-factly.
‘He did?’ I blurt, escaping Miller’s hold and swinging around to face him. He invited William to interfere?
Miller’s nostrils flare and he nails me in place with annoyance. ‘I thought you’d been abducted.’
‘You thought I’d been kidnapped?’ I press. ‘By Sophia?’ Why the hell would she do that? And why did he call William? Miller hates him, and I know the feeling is totally mutual.
His face is poker straight, but those eyes are still exuding pure, raw fear. ‘Yes.’
I’m robbed of words.
And breath.
Then something hits me like a bullet to my temple. ‘You told William about my shadow?’ I brace myself for Miller’s answer, even though I know for sure what it’ll be.
He nods. The urge to reach up and free my neck of the invisible noose is too much, and I find myself feeling around my throat, prompting Miller to move in and take my frantic hands.
‘Olivia?’ William’s silky voice, which is still laced with antagonism, pulls my attention across the room. ‘When I say I’ll pick you up at a certain time from a certain place, I expect you to be there. When I call, I expect you to answer.’
It takes every ounce of my remaining patience and strength not to drop my head back in exasperation, but even with the lack of visual disrespect, William still picks up on my impudence. I don’t care, especially not now. ‘I’m not a f**king child,’ I hiss, my fists balling in Miller’s grasp. I yank myself free and spin away from him. Anxiety is being washed away with the tirade of shitty newsflashes that I’m being assaulted with.
‘You should have listened,’ Miller says softly from behind me, making me swing back around. I’m getting dizzy from all this shocked spinning.
‘What?’ I yell. I can tell from his steely gaze and the reluctance of his tone that it kills him to admit that.
His arms are hanging limply by his sides, his wide shoulders slumped, his stance threatening but yielding all at once. I don’t know what to make of this. ‘If Anderson makes a request, Livy, you should listen.’
Just when I thought nothing else could stun me, he says that? ‘He wanted to pick me up. I was with you! And I should listen? Like I should have listened to him when he was telling me continuously to walk away from you?’