He reaches up with his spare hand and rubs at his eyes on a long, drawn-out sigh. ‘She laughed.’ William gazes ahead thoughtfully. ‘Tipped martinis down her beautiful throat and carried her stunning body onto the dance floor. I was rapt. Hypnotised. Among the corrupted, sinful best of London was my Gracie. She was mine. Or going to be. When my duty was to lead her away from the seedy underworld that I was destined to run, I was instead luring her in.’
The particles holding that contempt for my mother and the considerable part of my heart that holds pure, raw love for Miller begin to blend. I’m beginning to lose the ability to distinguish between the two . . . just as I suspected and feared. William looks up at me and smiles wistfully, his handsome face pained and remorseful. ‘I bought her champagne. She’d never tasted it. Watching her eyes sparkle in new-found delight lifted a layer from my hard heart. Not once did she stop smiling and not once did my doubt waver that I had to make this young woman mine. I knew I was swimming in murky waters, but I was blinded.’
‘You wish you had,’ I suggest, knowing I’m right. ‘You wish you had seen her out and forgotten about her.’
He laughs a little. It’s condescending. ‘There wasn’t a hope of me forgetting Gracie Taylor. Sounds ridiculous, I know. I snatched a measly hour with her, stole a kiss when she resisted and told her I’d be taking her out the following evening. Somewhere off the beaten track. Somewhere private, where no one knew me. She said no but didn’t stop me when I helped myself to her bag and found some identity to confirm her name and address.’ His smile broadens in an obvious moment of reflection. ‘Gracie Taylor.’ The sound of my mother’s name pleases him, and I can’t prevent a fond smile from developing on my own lips. The blossoming feelings between Gracie and William are picture perfect. Novel material. Consuming and irrational. Then it all went horribly wrong.
I can totally relate to my mother. Despite William and Miller clearly despising each other, they have many similar qualities. She must have been just as blinded by William Anderson as he claimed to be by her. And as I am by Miller Hart.
‘Your obligation to your uncle ruined everything.’
‘Obliterated it,’ he corrects sardonically. ‘My uncle was planning to retire, but a freak accident sent his body to the bottom of the Thames before we got to give him his timepiece.’
My brow crumples. ‘Timepiece?’
He smiles and lifts my hand to his lips, kissing it sweetly. ‘It’s commonly recognised as a good retirement gift.’
‘It is?’
‘Yes, funny, don’t you think? Someone who no longer has to clock-watch is given a watch.’
I chuckle with William, feeling a bond between us budding. ‘It’s quite ironic.’
‘Very much so.’
What’s also ironic is that we’re laughing about this when he’s just informed me that his uncle died so tragically. ‘I’m sorry about your uncle.’
William huffs a sarcastic puff of breath. ‘Don’t be. He got what he deserved. Live by the sword, die by it. Isn’t that what they say?’
I don’t know. Do they? I’m being fed information that is way too vivid and complex for my poor mind to process.
I stammer all over my words, but the comprehension seems to bite me on the arse. ‘Was your uncle an immoral bastard?’
‘Yes,’ he chuckles again, wiping under his eyes. ‘He was the immoral bastard. Things changed once I took over. I might have been a nasty bastard when I needed to be, but I wasn’t unfair. I implemented new rules, sorted the girls out, and weeded out the arseholes on the client list as best I could. I was young, fresh, and it worked. Earned me far more respect than my uncle ever gained. The ones who wanted to stick around and do things my way stayed. The ones who didn’t like the changes went and continued to be immoral bastards. I earned myself a lot of enemies, but even at that age I was not to be taken lightly.’
‘Have you killed anyone?’ I blurt the question without thought, and startled greys flip to mine fast. I almost let an apology slip for asking such a thing, but the wary glaze that descends over William’s clear eyes tells me it’s not such a stupid inquiry. He has.
‘That’s irrelevant, don’t you think?’
No, I don’t, but his cautionary glare prevents me from saying so. Had he not taken someone’s life, then I’m certain he’d be quick to put me right. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’ He reaches over and skims his knuckles over my cheek. ‘Your beautiful mind doesn’t need to be tarnished with ugliness.’
‘Too late,’ I whisper, making William’s delicate touch falter. ‘But we’re not talking about me and my decisions. What happened then?’
Shifting in his seated position, William takes both of my hands and turns to me. ‘We courted.’
‘Dated?’
‘Yes, if you will.’
I smile, remembering Nan using the very same word. ‘And?’
‘And it was intense. Gracie, although young and lacking in experience, had passion built in and ready to unleash. And she unleashed it on me. It sparked an undiscovered hunger in me. A hunger for her.’
‘You fell in love.’
‘I think that happened immediately.’ Sadness washes over his features again, his eyes dropping to his lap. ‘I spent only a month swallowed up in your mother’s fiery desire. Then reality hit, and Gracie and I were suddenly an impossible combination.’
I know exactly how he must have felt, and whatever bond we share just got a little stronger. ‘What happened?’
‘My eye was off the ball and one of my girls paid for it.’
I gasp and reclaim a hand.
He rubs his forehead, reliving the pain. ‘Damage control was something else. My enemies would have been pigs in shit over it.’
‘So you broke things off with her.’
‘Tried to. For a long, long time. Gracie was addictive and the thought of facing a day without immersing myself in her was unthinkable. And anyway, she knew how to render me stupid, how to brandish her sass and body unfairly. I was screwed.’ William relaxes back on the bench and gazes across the square, drifting off somewhere distant and troubled. ‘I kept us on the down-low. She would have been a target.’
‘It wasn’t just your obligation to the girls that stopped you being together, was it?’ I don’t need confirmation.
‘No, it wasn’t. If I allowed my feelings for that woman to be known, she would have been a red flag. I may as well have served her on a fucking plate.’
‘But that happened anyway,’ I remind him. He sent her away, let her fall into the hands of an immoral bastard.
‘After a few traumatic years, yes, it did. I always hoped you would be enough to pull her around.’
I scoff, pissed off at being reminded of my lack of incentive to my mother. ‘We all know how that worked out for you,’ I snipe. ‘Sorry I let you down.’
‘Enough!’
‘How did she become pregnant with another man’s child?’ I ask, ignoring his irritation at my candidness. ‘She was nineteen when she had me. That’s not long after you met.’
‘She punished me, Olivia. I already told you that. I don’t need to remind you of the book. Remember reading much of me in there?’
‘No,’ I admit, feeling almost sorry for William.
‘She became pregnant with another man’s child. It deflected any suspicion there may have been about your mother and me.’
‘Who was he?’
William scoffs. ‘Who the hell knows? Gracie certainly didn’t.’ Resentment pours from him and he releases a calming rush of breath. Speaking of this makes him angry. And it just makes me hate my mother more. ‘You were probably the best thing that could have happened.’
‘I’m glad someone thinks so,’ I say scathingly.
‘Olivia!’
‘I’m glad I served a purpose,’ I laugh wickedly. ‘
And here’s me thinking no one wanted me, yet it turns out that I did my mother’s pimp a favour. My purpose in life is making me so proud.’
‘You saved your mother’s life, Livy.’
‘What?’ I snap. He’s not going to suggest that my purpose was to deter the enemy, to deflect from Gracie and William’s relationship? ‘Just so she could abandon me later?’ I ask. ‘For all we know, she’s dead, William! My purpose stands for shit because despite everything, she still ended up fucking dead! I still have no mother and you have no Gracie!’ I heave violently next to him, blinking back tears of fury. The compassion has been sucked up, the merging parts of my heart severed in the blink of an eye . . . or the delivery of a thoughtless sentence. He was doing so well. The history of their relationship momentarily made me forget about the matter at hand. Miller. And me. Us. We’re not destined to follow the same destructive path of tortured love and irreparable heartache. We were on our way, but we saved each other.
I stand and swing towards him. He’s regarding me carefully. ‘Miller won’t let me down like you did Gracie.’ I turn and storm away, hearing him hiss on a wince. I half expect to be seized before I make it out of the square, but I’m allowed to remove myself from William and his revelations without intervention.
*
I don’t mean to, but when I finally make it home, I slam the front door shut, still reeling after my time with William and exhausted after my time at the doctor’s. I don’t recall much of my time sitting opposite my GP’s desk. I blurted my predicament, was interrogated before being prescribed the morning-after pill and contraceptive pill, and left, taking myself across the road to the pharmacy. And it was all done in a cloud of hopelessness.
The harsh clatter of the door crashing within the frame prompts Nan to scuttle from the kitchen in alarm. ‘Livy, whatever’s the matter?’ She glances down at her old watch. ‘It’s not even midday.’
I don’t bother trying to compose myself – I’m still too wound up – so I utilise my only other option, which is fine because it’s part true. ‘Del sent me home.’
‘Are you ill?’ Her steps increase in pace as she wipes her hands on the tea towel, until she’s standing before me feeling my forehead. ‘You have a temperature.’
Yes, I have. I’m burning with blinding rage. Sagging against the front door, I let my grandmother fuss over me, grateful for the sight of her friendly face, even if it’s etched in worry right now. ‘I’m okay.’
‘Pa!’ she scoffs. ‘Don’t piss down my back and tell me it’s raining!’ She brushes some damp tendrils from my face. ‘The faster you learn that I’m not doolally-tap the better.’ Her old sapphire eyes drill holes into my pathetic form. ‘I’ll make tea.’ She’s off up the hallway. ‘Come.’
‘Because tea makes everything in the world right,’ I mutter, pushing myself off the door and following her.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ I land in a chair and retrieve my phone from my satchel when it chimes.
‘A call?’ Nan asks, flicking the kettle on.
‘A text.’
She turns, genuine curiosity my way. ‘How do you know the difference?’
‘Well, because a call . . .’ I halt mid-sentence as I unlock my shiny new device. ‘Are you ever going to have a mobile phone?’
She laughs and returns to tea-making duties. ‘I’d rather get a back massage by Edward Scissorhands! Why at my age would I need one of those silly things?’
‘Then it doesn’t matter what sound signals a text, call, or e-mail, does it?’
‘E-mail?’ she screeches. ‘You can send e-mails?’
‘Yes. And you can use the Internet, do your shopping, and delve into social media.’
‘What’s social media?’
I laugh, flopping back in my chair. ‘You won’t live long enough for me to explain, Nan.’
‘Oh.’ She shows complete indifference as she pours boiling water into the teapot, and then milk into a tiny jug. ‘There will be little point for people to leave their homes if technology continues at this rate. Texts and e-mails. Whatever happened to having a face to face conversation with someone, hmmm? Or even a nice chat on the phone. Don’t ever send me a text.’
‘I can’t – you don’t have a mobile.’
‘An e-mail, then. Never send me an e-mail.’
I smirk. ‘You don’t have an e-mail account, so I can’t send you an e-mail either.’
‘Well, that’s a relief.’
I titter to myself and direct my eyes to the screen of my phone as Nan brings the tea to the table and pours, loading mine with sugar.
‘Need fattening up,’ she grumbles, but I ignore her because William’s name is glowing at me, telling me he’s sent me a message – one I know I won’t want to read. It doesn’t stop me from pushing the Open button, though.
This can’t end well.
My teeth grit and I delete the message, damning myself for reading it.
‘I haven’t seen Gregory in a while.’ Nan’s statement is laced with forced nonchalance. She knows he and I aren’t speaking. I can’t bring myself to call him, not after his rant. He was furious and undeniably serious in his threat.
‘He’s been busy.’ I toss my phone in my bag and swipe up my cup of tea, blowing the steam from the surface while I watch Nan stir hers slowly.
‘He’s never been too busy before.’
No valid reason for Gregory’s absence is dawning on me. She knows Miller and Gregory don’t see eye to eye. It would be easier to tell her that he’s slapped conditions on our friendship, but I just can’t be bothered. ‘I’m going to lie down.’ I scoop my satchel up and stand, giving my grandmother’s pouting face a peck. She hates it when I keep things from her, but with my spunky nan being the only person on the planet, other than Miller and me, encouraging our reunion, I’ve concluded that everything should be on a need-to-know basis. And she doesn’t need to know.
I drag myself upstairs and collapse to my arse on the familiar, messy sheets of my bed as I rummage through my satchel and pull out a paper bag. Flicking through the boxes, I find the pack and open it, popping out the pill before placing it on my tongue and closing my mouth. I just sit there, the tiny tablet feeling like lead. Closing my eyes, I eventually swallow it down and chuck the boxes in the top drawer of my bedside table. Then I fall to my back. There’s no darkness to be found, even if I were to pull the curtains across, so I yank a pillow close and roll into it, nuzzling my face deep and clenching my eyes shut. I’m only a fraction through the day and all of the elation I felt on waking this morning has been killed stone-cold dead.
Chapter Fifteen
Fireworks implode, a soft crackling rousing me from a peaceful slumber. It’s dusk and I’m safe. He’s here. I smile and shift in his hold until I’m lost in beautiful, soft blue eyes. My hands disappear beneath his suit jacket, around his back, and I pull myself closer until his warm breath is coating my cheeks. Circling our noses, he shifts his palm to the back of my thigh, tugging it up to his hip. ‘I was worried about you,’ he whispers. ‘What happened?’
‘I threw up on a pair of grannies.’
His eyes sparkle mischievously. ‘I heard.’
‘Then William showed up.’ I’m not surprised when the sparkle dulls and Miller stiffens in my hold.
‘What did he want?’
‘To irritate me,’ I mutter, snuggling into his chest, my cheek resting over his heart. It’s beating a strong steady thrum and the sound settles me completely. ‘Tell me you’ll never abandon me.’
‘I promise.’ He doesn’t falter, like he’s had a warning that I’d make this request, like he knows why William is hounding me.
It’s enough, because Miller Hart doesn’t make promises that he can’t keep. ‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t thank me, Olivia. Never thank me. Come here, let me see you.’ He wrestles me
from the sanctuary of his body and props himself up against my headboard, arranging me on his lap just so. I can feel his erection wedged between our bodies, long and hard, but by the look on Miller’s face, I’m on my own in the lust department. I frown and take a sneaky grind as he clasps my hands and entwines our fingers. Then he cocks a knowing eyebrow at me. ‘Why do you work at the bistro?’
His odd question halts my tempting tactics in their tracks. ‘To earn money.’ That’s not strictly true. I have a bank account bursting at the seams with cash.
‘I have plenty of money. You slaving away in a London café isn’t necessary.’
I bite my bottom lip, worrying it back and forth as I comprehend what he’s saying. His Adam’s apple is bobbing in his throat from his constant swallows. He’s nervous of my reaction, and he should be. ‘I don’t need any man’s money,’ I state quite calmly, even though his hint has zapped my serenity of a few moments ago.
‘I’m not just any man, Olivia.’ His palms slide to my upper arms and pull me close to the stubbled shadow of his jaw. Blue eyes scorch me with heated annoyance, but he’s still gentle with me, and his tone is soft. ‘Don’t upset yourself.’
‘I’m not. I just want to earn my own money.’
‘I know you have more ambition than making coffee.’ Miller’s tone is patronising, and while I could point out that his ambitions were a lot less commendable, I’m not up for another confrontation today.
‘I’m tired.’ I cop out from the line of conversation with that pathetic statement and fall onto his suit-covered chest, pushing my face into his neck and filling my nose with his manly scent.
‘Tired.’ He sighs and envelops me in his arms. ‘It’s six thirty in the evening and I believe you have been in this bed since noon.’
One Night: Denied Page 18
