‘Let go of me,’ I whisper quietly, and he does, breaking away from my sprawled body and resting back on his knees. Apprehension is pouring from him. I get to my knees and reach for him, catching him frowning. But he lets me do my thing. I start to tug at his shoulders, encouraging him to turn away from me, and when his back comes into view, I fall apart.
It’s a mess. Red lines are crisscrossing his back; some are weeping tiny beads of blood and others are swollen. His back looks like a roadmap. He really did want me to hurt him, but his reasons were far deeper than a pleasure-pain mix. He wanted my marks all over him. He belongs to someone.
Me.
My palms find my face and I push my fingers into my eyes, unable to stop the constant hitching of my breath from my pain-filled sobs.
‘Don’t cry,’ he whispers, turning and taking me in his arms. He kisses my head repeatedly, stroking my hair and holding me tight. ‘Please, don’t cry.’
Guilt attacks me and I yell at myself to do the right thing. Miller’s willingness to do something so wretched for me is only enhancing it. No matter how much I tell myself that Charlie is the devil in disguise, that he deserves everything he gets, I still can’t convince myself to agree. Miller would shoulder the burden for the rest of his life, and now that I know, so will I. I can’t let him do that to us. It’ll be like a noose around our necks for the rest of our lives together.
‘Shhhhh,’ he soothes, pulling me onto his lap.
‘Let’s run away,’ I sob. It’s the only way. ‘We’ll take Nan and go far, far away.’ My mind is making a mental list of places as he looks at me fondly, like I just don’t understand.
‘We can’t.’
I feel aggravation budding as a result of his simple and final answer. ‘Yes, we can.’
‘No, Olivia. We can’t.’
‘We can!’ I yell, making him wince and close his eyes. He’s trying to gather his patience. ‘Stop saying we can’t when we can!’ We could go now. Pack Nan up and drive off. I don’t care where we end up, as long as it’s miles from London, away from this vile, cruel world. I’m not sure why Miller has claimed to be on his way to hell, because it feels like he’s already there. And I’m with him.
Blue eyes slowly peel open. Haunted blue eyes. They steal my breath and stop my heart, but not in the usual way. ‘I cannot leave London,’ he says clearly, his look and tone daring me to interrupt him. He’s not done yet. He really can’t leave London and there’s a damn good reason why. ‘He has something very damaging on me.’
I hate my body’s natural instinct to remove itself from his hold. I sit far back, working up the courage to ask the operative question. ‘What?’ I barely hear myself.
His Adam’s apple protrudes from his throat and settles slowly after his challenging swallow, and his lovely face has drifted into . . . nothing. ‘I killed a man.’
The noose I was avoiding is around my neck already, and it’s tightening fast. I swallow repeatedly, my eyes wide and rooted to his straight face. My mouth has been zapped of moisture, too, making breathing increasingly hard. ‘I . . .’ I move back slowly, numbly, feeling the ground around me to check it’s still there. I’m falling into hell. ‘He can’t prove it,’ I claim, my tortured mind feeding my mouth words that I have no control over. Maybe it’s my subconscious refusing to believe it’s true. I don’t know. ‘No one will believe him.’ He’s holding Miller to ransom. Blackmailing him.
‘He has evidence, Livy. Video evidence.’ He’s so calm. There’s no panic or fear. ‘If I don’t do what he wants, he’ll expose me.’
‘Oh God.’ My hand rakes through my hair, my eyes darting around the room. Miller will be thrown in prison. Both of our lives will be over. ‘Who?’ I ask, forcing my eyes to him, all the while hearing Gregory’s light sarcasm that time he wanted to add murderer to Miller’s long list of flaws.
‘That’s not important.’ His lips press together. I think I need to be angry, but I can’t seem to muster the fire in my belly. My boyfriend has just confessed to killing someone and I’m sitting here like an idiot asking calm questions. I don’t want to believe that there’s an underlying reason for my reaction, but I know for sure there is. I should be running away as far as my legs will carry me, yet I’m still sitting on the floor of his flat, totally naked, looking at him.
‘Elaborate,’ I grate, squaring my shoulders in a display of strength.
‘I don’t want to,’ he whispers, dropping his eyes. ‘I don’t want to pollute your beautiful, pure mind with it, Livy. I’ve promised myself so many times that I won’t tarnish you with my dirty brush.’