One Night: Denied (19 page)

‘Not really,’ I concede. There’s no room in my brain to register hunger.

‘We need to resolve this appetite issue,’ he quips curtly, ‘before you disappear before my eyes.’

‘There’s no issue.’ I reach up and take Miller’s tie, jiggling with the dislodged knot for a short time before I’m happy that it’s straight and tidy. ‘I eat when I’m hungry.’

‘Which is when?’ He throws me an expectant look as he removes his jacket and hangs it on the coat hooks before he turns into the mirror and undoes what I’ve just spent thirty seconds of my time perfecting. His back broadens with the position of his hands at his neck, the material of his waistcoat pulling taut. I sigh my appreciation. ‘We need to get you to the doctor’s.’

His statement yanks me back to the here and now, having me look up to a serious face. ‘I’ve been,’ I whisper.

He can’t hide his shock. I love that I can spike all of these emotions from him, but not now. ‘You went without me?’

My shoulders jump up a little, displaying detachment. ‘The receptionist said it’s best to take the morning-after pill as soon as possible, and they only had an available appointment this morning.’

‘Oh.’ He drops his hands from his tie, looking uncomfortable. ‘I didn’t want you to have to do it alone, Olivia.’

‘I swallowed a pill.’ I smile, trying to lighten him up. He feels guilty.

‘And birth control?’

‘Done.’

‘Have you started?’

‘On the first day of my next period.’ I definitely remember that part, but not much else.

‘Which is when?’

I mentally sprint through my cycle, frowning to myself. ‘Three weeks.’ This won’t please him. I only just had a period while Miller was . . . absent.

‘Excellent,’ he says, all formal, like he’s just secured a profitable business deal. I roll my eyes and ignore his inquisitive look.

‘And before you ask, yes, there’s a need for insolence.’

His lips purse and his blistering blue eyes narrow slightly. ‘Sass,’ he whispers, making me smile. ‘I would have come.’

‘I’m a big girl.’ I brush off his concern with ease, despite it being entirely his fault that I wound up in that position. It won’t happen again. ‘And, anyway, you did come.’ I grin, trying to ease his guilt. ‘Inside me.’

He matches my grin. ‘Double sass.’

Footsteps interrupt us and Nan appears, her jolly face jollier than normal, and I know it’s because Miller is here and he’s agreed to let her feed him. ‘Hotpot!’ she sings, delighted. ‘I didn’t have time for anything more extravagant.’

Miller rips his eyes from mine and pivots on his expensive shoes. Nan’s delight increases, even if she’s lost the lovely view of Miller’s buns. ‘I’m sure that whatever you’ve decided on, it’ll be just perfect, Mrs Taylor.’

She flaps a tea towel at Miller, all bashful and giggly. ‘I’ve laid the table in the kitchen.’

‘Had I known we’d be eating together, I would have brought something,’ Miller says, taking my nape and encouraging me to follow Nan to the kitchen.

‘Nonsense!’ Nan laughs. ‘Besides, I still have the champagne and the caviar.’

‘With hotpot?’ I ask on a frown.

‘No, but I doubt Miller would have brought a barrel of cheap ale to slurp.’ Nan flips her hand, indicating a chair. ‘Sit.’

My chair is pulled out for me and tucked back under once I’ve taken my seat. His mouth meets my ear. ‘How fast can you eat hotpot?’

I ignore him and concentrate on soaking up the heat of his breath in my ear, probably a stupid thing to do, but it doesn’t matter how fast I can eat because Miller’s manners prevent him from scoffing down food.

He takes his seat next to me and gives me a salacious smirk, just as a huge pot lands in the centre of the table. I inhale the smell of meat, veggies and potatoes. And grimace. I’m not in the least bit hungry, only for the infuriating male seated next to me.

‘Where has George got to?’ Nan gripes, looking impatiently down at her watch. ‘He’s five minutes late.’

‘George is joining us?’ Miller asks, nodding at the steaming pot, his instruction for me to dive in. ‘It’ll be nice to see him again.’

‘Hmmm, it’s not like him to be late.’

She’s right. He’s usually sitting at the table armed with his knife and fork in plenty of time to be the first into the pot. Unfortunately, I get the pleasure today. I take the serving spoon with as much enthusiasm as I feel and plunge it into the middle, wafting the smell into the air surrounding us.

‘Smells delicious,’ Miller informs Nan, keeping his eyes on me. I’m not sure how much I can stomach, but with Nan
and
Miller both taking a vested interest in my eating habits, I’m destined to struggle my way through a whole bowl.

The chime of the doorbell saves me. ‘I’ll get it.’ I drop the spoon and lift my bum from the chair, only to be pushed back down.

‘Allow me,’ Miller interjects, taking the serving spoon and transferring a heaped spoonful into my dish before he makes off down the hallway.

‘Thank you, Miller,’ Nan croons, smiling brightly. ‘Such a gentleman.’

‘Some of the time,’ I mutter under my breath, collecting the serving spoon and piling Miller’s bowl high until it’s near to overflowing.

‘Is he hungry?’ Nan asks, her old eyes following the spoon travelling back and forth from the pot to Miller’s dish.

‘Starving,’ I declare, silently smug.

‘Save some for George. He’ll blow a gasket if he doesn’t get at least two helpings.’ She peeks into the pot, noting the remaining contents.

‘There’s plenty.’

‘Good. Tuck in.’ She waves her finger at my bowl, and I wonder where the table etiquette has disappeared to – the one where we wait for everyone to start together. Nan glances down the hallway on a wrinkle of her brow. ‘Do you think he got lost?’

‘I’ll go.’ I jump up, anything to delay eating, hoping by some miracle I’ll find my appetite while I’m finding Miller and George. Showing no urgency, I stroll down the hallway, catching a glimpse of Miller’s back as the door closes behind him.

‘What do you want?’ I hear him spit on an attempted hush. It’s a mega fail.

It takes me only a split second to figure that whoever rang the doorbell wasn’t George. They would be back at the table by now, and Miller wouldn’t be asking that question in such a vicious tone. My pace quickens and so does my heart. I take the door handle and pull, but it shifts only millimetres, the resistance increasing slightly under my tug. I don’t want to shout at him and attract Nan’s attention, so I wait a few moments until I feel the resistance ease up; then I throw all of my might into yanking it open. It works. Miller staggers slightly from his unexpected loss of grip, his hair falling onto his brow, his shocked blues darting to me.

‘Olivia.’ He hardly contains his sigh of exasperation as he steps towards me and slides a palm onto my nape. Then he shifts to the side, revealing the mystery guest.

‘Gregory,’ I breathe, delighted and cautious all at once. This isn’t ideal. I would never have chosen to try and repair our friendship with Miller around, but he’s here now and there’s nothing I can do about it. Gregory’s ticking jaw isn’t a good sign that his tolerance of Miller has improved, and Miller’s buzzing form touching mine indicates the same response to my friend.

‘Nice and cosy,’ Gregory grinds out with scathing eyes roaming from Miller to me.

‘Don’t be like that,’ I say softly, attempting to move towards him and getting nowhere. Miller isn’t releasing me, come hell or high water. ‘Miller, please.’ I twist out of his hold and get growled at for my trouble.

‘Forget it, Olivia.’ He reclaims me and I glance up, seeing murder etched all over his face. I don’t need this. ‘What do you want?’ Miller’s tone is soaked in threat.

‘I want to speak to Olivia.’ Gregory states his request on a snarl, matching Miller’s fieriness. They’re like two wolves in a staring stand-off, heaving and gnashing jaws, each one getting ready to attack, except I’m not sure which one will lose their control first. Gregory’s bravado is commendable.

‘Then speak.’

‘Alone.’

Miller’s head shakes mildly, confidently, supremacy oozing from every pore of his refined physique. ‘No,’ he says on a whisper, but the near-silent word is loaded with determination – no raised volume necessary.

Gregory rips his brown eyes from Miller and they land on me with a contemptuous bang. ‘Fine, you can stay,’ he relents, the vein in his neck throbbing.

‘That’s not up for negotiation,’ Miller clarifies.

My best friend doesn’t bless Miller with a disdainful look, instead keeping cold eyes on me. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, with zero sincerity, his face holding the look of indifference that’s been apparent since I clapped eyes on him. He doesn’t appear or sound sorry in the slightest, yet I’m willing him to be. I want to apologise, too, but for what I don’t know. I don’t think I have anything to be remorseful for. Nevertheless, I’ll willingly offer up an apology if it means I’ll get Gregory back. I may have been distracted since our altercation, but he’s not been around and it’s been gnawing on my conscience. I’ve missed him terribly.

‘I’m sorry, too,’ I whisper, ignoring Miller’s increased breathing and twitching beside me. ‘I hate this.’

I watch as his face drops to match his broad shoulders. He slips a hand into his jeans pocket, his work boots scuffing the pathway beneath. ‘Baby girl, I hate this, too, but I’m here for you.’ He lifts tortured eyes to mine. ‘You need to know that.’

Happiness floods me, the hugest weight lifting from my tired shoulders. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he replies, and then removes something from his pocket. His arm extends towards me with something gripped between his fingers. Confusion replaces the relief, and I definitely don’t imagine Miller turning stone cold next to me. ‘Take it,’ Gregory prompts, waving his arm forward.

A shimmer of silver catches the porch light, seeming to blind me like low, winter sunlight. Then I notice the perfect scrolled font. Miller’s ‘business’ card. My heart beats up to my throat and wedges itself there.

Miller’s hand flies out and snatches the card. ‘Where the fuck did you get this?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Gregory says calmly, in total control, while I lose control completely, my body vibrating violently with shakes.

‘It fucking matters,’ Miller growls, balling his fist, folding his business card in on itself until it’s out of sight. ‘Where?’

‘Fuck you.’

Miller’s gone from my side in a heartbeat. ‘Miller!’ I scream, but he’s fallen into a zone of rage and nothing will pull him back.

Gregory manages to dodge the first blow, but it’s not long before both men are crashing to the concrete on a thunderous bang. ‘Miller!’ My frantic screams are hopeless and so are my frozen limbs, which I vaguely appreciate through my fog of panic. Getting between these two would be foolish, but I hate feeling so useless. ‘Please stop,’ I cry quietly. The tears building in my eyes swell and release, streaming down my cheeks, blurring the painful sight before me.

‘You should’ve kept your fucking nose out!’ Miller roars, yanking Gregory up by his shirt and landing a sickening punch to his jaw, sending my friend’s head snapping to the side. ‘Why the
fuck
does everyone think they have some god-given right to interfere?’

Smack!

Another punishing blow splits Gregory’s lip and blood bursts from the wound, coating Miller’s knuckles. ‘Leave us the fuck alone!’

‘Miller, stop!’ I shout, attempting to step forward, but my legs turn to jelly, making grasping the wall essential if I’m to stay on my feet. ‘Miller!’

He’s straddling Gregory on the ground, his whole body heaving, sweat streaming down his face. This is the worst I’ve seen him. He’s completely out of control. He yanks Gregory’s torso up by the scruff of his collar bunched in each fist. ‘I’ll rip out the spine of anyone who tries to take her away from me. You’re no exception.’ He shoves Gregory to his back and stands, all the while keeping wild eyes on my friend. ‘You’ll keep this to yourself.’

‘Miller,’ I cry on a sniffle, struggling to gain a steadying breath through my choked sobbing.

He turns slowly towards me and I don’t like what I see. Irrationality. Unruliness. Lunacy. This side of him, the violent, crazy, reckless part, I don’t like at all. It frightens me, not only because of the damage that he can so easily inflict, but also because he seems so unaware while he’s in this destructive mode. Our eyes hold for the longest time, me trying to bring him back around before he does further damage, him heaving uncontrollably before me. Gregory’s in a bad way, struggling to get to his feet behind Miller, clutching his stomach and hissing in pain. He didn’t deserve that.

‘She needs to know,’ Gregory mumbles, standing half bent, clearly in tremendous pain. His barely decipherable words register loud and clear. He thinks I don’t know. He thought he was coming here to share some information on the man he hates that would see me throwing him out of my life. He thinks that’s why Miller has lost the plot, not simply because of his interference and risk of exposure to Nan, which I know now is a massive concern to him. My poor heart is still in overdrive, pounding in my chest, and this realisation has just flipped it up another gear.

‘I already knew,’ I say on a breathy gasp, keeping my eyes on Miller’s. ‘I know what he was and what he did.’ And I know this news will cripple Gregory. He thought he had the perfect reason for me to leave Miller, and he thought he’d be able to comfort me as I dealt with the horrid revelation. He was hoping for that the most. But he’s wrong, and I’m fully aware that this could equal the final blow to our friendship. He’ll never understand why I’m still with Miller, and I doubt my ability to make him see why or the strength required to do it.

‘You knew?’ His tone is now dripping with pure shock. ‘You know that this piece of shit is a fucking gigolo?’

‘An escort,’ I correct. ‘And
was
.’ I allow my eyes to travel over Miller’s pulsing shoulders to Gregory’s folded body. He’s starting to straighten up.

The disbelief on his face spikes unwanted and unwarranted shame to attack me. ‘What the fuck has happened to you?’ His look of hatred slices right through me, and I clamp my lips together to prevent a sob from ripping past them, knowing it’ll trigger Miller’s insanity again.