I glance over my shoulder, giving Sylvie an apologetic smile, grateful when she brushes off my guilt with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘Hope you feel better,’ she calls.
I’m sent to the mews at the back of the hotel, where deliveries are taken and the staff pop out to smoke. It’s dusk and the air is heavy, just like my heart. Finding a step away from the chaos of the loading bays, I lower my backside and slump my head onto my knees, attempting to calm myself down before I drag my feet home. Forgetting my encounters with Miller Hart and the feelings I had during those encounters might be easier if I never have to see him again, but it’s going to be impossible if he’s around every corner that I turn.
Returning to solitary confinement seems like my best option, but I’ve been teased, fed something new and appealing, and I want more. The important question, though – the question I should ask and consider seriously – is whether I’m hungry for more with just Miller, or if I can find these tingling, stimulating, alive feelings with someone else, a man who wants me for longer than one night, a man who can maintain these feelings, not spike them, then quickly and cruelly replace them with inadequacy and misery.
I won’t hold my breath.
I force my reluctant body to stand, looking up and coming face to face with Miller Hart. He’s standing just a few feet away, legs spread and hands in his pockets. His expression is still blank, telling me nothing, but this takes nothing away from his impossible beauty. There are many things I want to say, but saying them will only prompt conversation, which will almost certainly cast me further under his spell. The only sensible move I should make right now is escaping his presence. And set on doing just that, I start walking away from him.
‘Livy!’ he shouts, his footsteps trailing me. ‘Livy, it’s simply business.’
‘You don’t have to explain yourself to me,’ I declare softly. That was no body language of a business associate. ‘Please don’t follow me.’
‘I’m talking to you, Livy,’ he warns.
‘And I’m choosing not to listen.’ My nerves are keeping my tone timid and weak when I really want to inject some spunk into it, but the strength required to do so is being used to walk away.
‘Livy, you owe me sixteen hours.’
His cheek makes me falter mid-stride, but doesn’t stop me completely. ‘I owe you nothing.’
‘I beg to differ.’ His body lands in front of me, blocking my path, so I quickly sidestep him, not allowing my eyes to divert from their focus point: the main road ahead. ‘Livy.’ He’s grabbing at me now but I shake him off, silent but firm. ‘Where are your f**king manners?’
‘I don’t care for them with you.’
‘Well you should.’ He takes hold of me, more forcefully this time, and secures me in place. ‘You agreed to twenty-four hours.’
I refuse to look at him, and I’m also refusing to speak. There’s plenty I want to say, but showing my emotions – physically and audibly – would be a grave mistake, so I remain still and silent while he stares down at my non-responsive form. I’m frustrating him. His overpowering hold on the tops of my arms is confirming it, and so is the rise and fall of his suit-covered chest. I’ve crawled into a shell, and I don’t plan on coming out. I’m safer here – safe from him.
He drops his face into my line of sight, so I drop my gaze further to the ground to avoid him. Looking into his crystal-clear blues will derail me in a split second. ‘Livy, when I’m talking to you, I’d like you to look at me.’
I don’t. I ignore his request and concentrate on remaining unreceptive, hoping he’ll get bored, decide I’m not worth the effort, and leave me alone. I need him to leave me alone. There’s a beautiful woman inside, clearly willing, so why is he wasting time out here on me?
‘Livy,’ he whispers.
My eyes close, picturing those lips speaking my name quietly . . . slowly.
‘Please look at me,’ he orders gently.
My head starts shaking in my own private darkness as I battle to keep my protective shield in place – the Miller shield.
‘Let me see you, Olivia Taylor.’ He stoops further, pushing his face into my neck. ‘Let me have my time with you.’
I want to stop him. I don’t want to stop him. I want to feel alive again but I don’t want to feel lifeless again. I want him more than I know I should.