Denied (One Night #2)

‘I have plenty of money. You slaving away in a London café isn’t necessary.’


I bite my bottom lip, worrying it back and forth as I comprehend what he’s saying. His Adam’s apple is bobbing in his throat from his constant swallows. He’s nervous of my reaction, and he should be. ‘I don’t need any man’s money,’ I state quite calmly, even though his hint has zapped my serenity of a few moments ago.

‘I’m not just any man, Olivia.’ His palms slide to my upper arms and pull me close to the stubbled shadow of his jaw. Blue eyes scorch me with heated annoyance, but he’s still gentle with me, and his tone is soft. ‘Don’t upset yourself.’

‘I’m not. I just want to earn my own money.’

‘I know you have more ambition than making coffee.’ Miller’s tone is patronising, and while I could point out that his ambitions were a lot less commendable, I’m not up for another confrontation today.

‘I’m tired.’ I cop out from the line of conversation with that pathetic statement and fall onto his suit-covered chest, pushing my face into his neck and filling my nose with his manly scent.

‘Tired.’ He sighs and envelops me in his arms. ‘It’s six thirty in the evening and I believe you have been in this bed since noon.’

I ignore his observation and reach up to play with his ear, rubbing his lobe through my index finger and thumb. ‘How was your day?’

‘Long. What did Anderson want?’

‘I told you, to irritate me.’

‘Elaborate.’

‘No.’

‘I’ve asked once.’

‘You can ask as many times as you like,’ I whisper. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

I’m being moved before I can stiffen my muscles to hinder him. He pushes me up so I’m straddling his lap and clamps down on my thighs, impatience hazy in his gaze. ‘Tough luck.’

‘For you,’ I mutter indignantly. I’m pushing his buttons, but I have no desire to share my recent revelations with Miller right now – probably never will. I was a baby of convenience, and not of the regular kind. I served one purpose and one purpose alone, and that failed miserably, anyway.

I’m under close scrutiny. He’s waiting for my elaboration, which will never come, yet Miller’s expectant pose doesn’t block more unpleasant thoughts from creeping through the barriers of my mind. How must William have felt knowing Gracie got pregnant by another man when he loved her so deeply? She was punishing him by sleeping with other men, that’s now clear, but did she mean to get herself knocked up? Was one of my purposes to cripple William with hurt, too? And would William have made my mother terminate me had I not been of use in diverting the enemy? I was a pawn, that’s all. An object used to William’s advantage.

‘Olivia?’ Miller’s gentle, encouraging mention of my name sucks my dejected mind back into the room where I’m faced with someone who does want me. Not because I serve a purpose, but because I am their purpose.

‘William used me,’ I murmur, the words causing me physical pain. I was over this. I was past the hurt of being abandoned, but now I’m facing a new kind of hurt. ‘My mother got herself pregnant by another man to punish William.’ I wince at my own cold words and clench my eyes shut. ‘They were in love. William and my mother were hopelessly in love and couldn’t be together because of William’s world. If the wrong people found out about his relationship with Gracie, they would have used her against him.’ I’m suddenly considering the possibility of William keeping Gracie close by, not only to fuel his need to see her, but also as another deterrent. He never got involved with his girls. It was common knowledge.

My eyes remain locked tightly shut until I feel movement beneath me and Miller’s warm mouth on mine. ‘Shhh,’ he hushes me, despite the fact that I’ve stopped speaking. I have nothing more to say and I hope Miller doesn’t push for more. Every tiny snippet of information that William fed me this morning, all of the intensity and passion between him and my mother that he spoke of, was annihilated with his final enlightenment.

You saved your mother’s life.

No, I didn’t, and my current state of mind won’t allow me to feel remorseful about it. ‘How long have you known William?’ I ask quietly as he rains gentle pecks on my cheeks and lips.

‘Ten years.’ His answer carries an air of finality and his mouth continues to seduce mine, his tongue slipping past my lips and sweeping reverently in circles. I feel distracted, so I pull away from his busy mouth and study him for a moment, pushing his misbehaving wave from his brow. He’s not happy about my withdrawal, which only increases my suspicion.

‘When you found out I knew William, you knew he’d have something to say about us, didn’t you? He doesn’t agree with how you conduct business.’

‘Correct.’

‘That’s it?’