‘Will do.’ I barely push the words past the lump in my throat and quickly hang up, turning to face the other way, like it might look as if I’m unaware. Should I leave? What if Luke turns up and I’ve gone? You can’t park on Oxford Street so he can’t stop. If it’s even him. It might not be. Shit, I know it is. I push my body away from the glass and quickly weigh up my options, but before my brain makes an informed decision, my feet are in action and carrying me away from my distress. I walk with purpose, taking deep breaths, concentrating hard on maintaining my even pace.
I close my eyes when I see the car pass me slowly, and only reopen them again when I’m barged from the side by an impatient businessman, who proceeds to ridicule me for not looking where I’m going. I can’t even find the power to apologise, instead picking up my stride again, but then I notice the car has stopped and I stop, too. I watch as the door to the driver’s side opens. His body flows from the car like liquid, rising to his full height before pushing the door shut and buttoning up the jacket of his grey suit. His black shirt and tie compliment his dark waves, and his jaw is covered in stubble. He looks magnificent. I feel conquered, and he hasn’t even made it to me yet. What does he want? Why has he stopped?
I fight some balanced thoughts into my mind and I’m in action again, turning away from him and walking fast. ‘Livy!’ I can hear his footsteps coming after me, the sound of expensive shoes beating heavily on the concrete behind me, even over the bustling sounds of London surrounding me. ‘Livy, wait!’
The jolt of surprise that kicked my feet into action turns to irritation as I listen to him shouting my name, like I owe him the time of day. I stop and face him, feeling more determined than irritated when I finally meet his eyes.
He skids to a stop on his fancy shoes and straightens his jacket out, just standing in front of me, making no attempt to speak. I’m not saying anything, because I have nothing to say, and, in fact, I hope he doesn’t speak because then I won’t have to encounter those lips moving slowly and listen to the smoothness of that voice. I’m safer when he’s silent and unmoving . . . or remotely safer than when he’s touching me or talking to me, at least.
I’m not safe at all.
He steps forward, like he knows what I’m thinking. ‘You’re waiting for someone. Who?’
I don’t answer, just keeping my eyes glued to his.
‘I asked you a question, Livy.’ He takes another step forward, his growing closeness registering as a danger, yet I stay exactly where I am when I should be moving away. ‘You know I hate repeating myself. Please answer.’
‘I have a date.’ I try for cool detachment, but I’m not certain I’ve completely succeeded. I’m too pissed off.
‘With a man?’ he asks, and I can practically see his hackles rise.
‘Yes, with a man.’
His normally expressionless face is suddenly a wealth of emotion. He’s very clearly not happy. The knowledge spurs my self-assurance. I don’t want to feel the small pang of hope that’s fluttering in my stomach, but there is no denying it’s there.
‘Is that all?’ I ask, my voice stronger.
‘So now you’re dating?’
‘Yes,’ I say simply, because I am, and like an omen, I hear the not-so-familiar calling of my name.
‘Livy?’ Luke appears by my side.
‘Hi.’ I lean in and kiss his cheek. ‘Are you ready?’
He flicks his eyes to Miller, who I notice is rigid and silent as he watches me greet Luke. ‘Hi.’ Luke holds his hand out to Miller, and I’m surprised when he takes it, giving Luke a firm shake, his manners never failing him.
‘Hello. Miller Hart.’ He nods, jaw tense, and I see my date wince before Miller quickly releases Luke’s hand, then rearranges his perfectly neat jacket. I’m definitely not imagining the subtle rise and fall of his broad chest or his eyes darkening with anger. I can almost hear something ticking inside him, like an unexploded bomb. He’s mad and his murderous eyes nailed on Luke begin to worry me.
‘Luke Mason,’ Luke replies, shaking his hand. ‘Nice to meet you. Are you a friend of Livy’s?’
‘No, just an acquaintance.’ I jump in quickly, eager to remove Luke from such palpable fury. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Great.’ Luke holds his arm out for me to link, and I do, letting him lead me away from the horridly awkward situation. ‘I thought we’d try the Lion around the corner. It’s had a makeover, apparently,’ Luke tells me, looking over his shoulder.
‘Great,’ I reply, not helping myself from glancing over my shoulder too, and instantly wishing that I hadn’t. He’s standing, just watching me walk away with another man, his face cold, his body rigid.
We soon turn a corner, and when I feel Luke look down at me I feel guilt start to take hold. I don’t know why. A date, that’s all. And is my guilt because of an oblivious Luke or a clearly affected Miller?
‘He was a bit of a strange one,’ Luke muses. I hum my agreement, pulling his gaze down to me. ‘You look lovely,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry I’m a few minutes late. I should’ve skipped the cab and jumped on the Tube.’
‘Don’t worry. You’re here now.’
He smiles, and it’s a cute smile, one that warms his already friendly face. ‘It’s just up here, look.’ He indicates up the street. ‘I’m hearing great things.’