‘Continue,’ he orders down the phone.
I smile to myself and Miller’s ability to be so tender and sweet with me and then so obnoxious and curt to whoever is on the other end of the phone. A muscled arm snakes around my waist and holds on tight.
‘It’s Livy,’ he hisses. ‘I could be speaking with the fucking queen, but if Olivia needs me, then the queen will have to fucking wait.’
My face bunches in confusion, mixed with a little satisfaction, and I turn to look up at him. I want to ask who it is, but something halts me. It’s the muffled sound of a smooth, familiar, very accepting voice down the line.
William.
‘Glad we’ve cleared that up,’ Miller huffs, landing a chaste kiss on my lips before nudging my head back into the crook of his neck and shifting in his chair, pulling me even closer.
He falls silent and starts playing idly with a lock of my hair, twisting it repeatedly until it starts to pull at my scalp and I indicate my discomfort with a gentle nudge to his ribs. I can hear the mellow tones of William’s voice, yet can’t make out what’s being said, as Miller unravels the lock before starting to twist all over again.
‘Did you establish anything regarding that?’ Miller asks.
I know what they must be speaking of, but being here on his lap, listening to his even, detached tone, amplifies that curiosity. I should have stayed away from the study, but now my mind is racing, wondering what William might have found.
‘One minute,’ he breathes, and I see his hand holding the phone in my peripheral vision fall to the arm of the chair. My hair is released, probably leaving behind a mountain of knots, my cheek clasped in his hand and turned to face him. Staring deeply into my eyes, he clicks a button on his phone and blindly rests it on the desk, never leaving my eyes. He doesn’t even break the contact to check where it’s landed or to tweak it.
‘William, say hello to Olivia.’
I shift nervously on Miller’s lap, a million feelings drowning out the serenity I was feeling locked in Miller’s hold.
‘Hello, Olivia.’ William’s voice is comforting. Yet I don’t want to hear anything he has to say. He’d warned me away from Miller from the moment he knew of our relationship.
‘Hi, William.’ I quickly turn to Miller and tense my muscles, ready to lift from his lap. ‘I’ll let you work in peace.’ But I go nowhere. Miller slowly shakes his head at me and firms up his grip.
‘How are you?’ William’s question was easy to answer . . . half an hour ago.
‘Fine,’ I squeak, chastising myself for feeling awkward, but worst of all for acting it. ‘I’m just going to make some breakfast.’ I make to stand again . . . and go nowhere.
‘Olivia’s staying,’ Miller announces. ‘Continue.’
‘As we were?’ William sounds shocked, and that notches my awkwardness up the scale to plain panic.
‘As we were,’ Miller breaths, finding my nape and working into my tenseness with firm, purposeful kneads. He’s wasting his time.
There’s silence down the line, then the odd sound of movement, probably William fidgeting uncomfortably in his big office chair before he speaks. ‘I’m not sure—’
‘She’s staying,’ Miller cuts him off, and I brace myself for a counterattack from William . . . but it doesn’t come.
‘Hart, I question your morals daily.’ William chuckles. It’s a dark, sardonic chuckle. ‘But I’ve always been certain of your sanity, however in-fucking-sane some of your exploits have been. I’ve always known you were perfectly lucid.’
I want to jump in to put William straight. There’s nothing lucid about Miller when he loses his temper. He’s wild, unreasonable . . . a complete, certifiable maniac. Or is he? I slowly turn in his hold to find his face. Piercing blue eyes are immediately singeing my skin. His face, although impassive, is angelic. My mind twists as I try to figure out whether what William is saying could be true. I can’t agree. Maybe William hasn’t seen Miller touch the kind of rage he has unleashed since he met me.
‘I always know exactly what I’m doing and why I’m doing it.’ Miller speaks slowly and concisely. He knows what I’m thinking. ‘I may lose rationality for a split second, but only for a split second,’ he whispers, so quietly William couldn’t have possibly heard him. And just like that, he answers another question that I was silently deliberating. ‘My actions are always valid and warranted.’
William hears that part. I know this because he laughs. ‘In whose world, Hart?’
‘Mine.’ He turns his attention back to his phone and tightens his grip on me. ‘And now yours, too, Anderson.’