One Night: Denied

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  If there is perfect beyond Miller’s perfect world, then this is it.

  I’m squelching in the leather seat of Miller’s Mercedes, sensing a growing concern from beside me at the soggy state of his fine car. The dual temperature control displays a medium sixteen degrees, the right number to keep Miller calm, but the wrong number given how damn cold I am. I’m dying to turn the dial up, but mindful that I’m pushing Miller’s boundaries already – what with wet suits, picnics in Hyde Park, and unexpected shopping exhibitions. Turning that dial might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. I shiver and sink further into my seat, catching Miller out of the corner of my eye sweeping his waves off his forehead.

  Tracy Chapman coos about fast cars, which makes me smile as Miller is driving incredibly slowly. The air of calm and the serenity floating around our wet bodies is tangible. No words are spoken and they don’t need to be. Today has been better than I could ever have imagined, hiccups earlier in the day aside. Miller has worked through some tough issues, and not only has it filled me with the most incredible amount of pride, but it’s also enriched the feelings I have for him. And most satisfying of all, I know that Miller has stepped outside his perfect box and liked where he’s found himself. The fact that I am now freezing in my seat and dare not touch the temperature control of his swanky car is irrelevant.

  ‘Are you chilly?’ Miller’s concerned tone doesn’t grab my attention, but his question does. He’s surely not going to give me heat as well as a picnic, almost casual clothes, and a kiss in the rain?

  ‘I’m fine,’ I lie, forcing myself to stop shaking.

  ‘Olivia, you are far from fine.’ He reaches forward and rotates each dial in turn, ensuring they match, taking the car’s temperature to a toasty twenty-five degrees.

  My elation soars and I reach over to catch a feel of his lovely stubble, all coarse and scratchy, but familiar and soothing. ‘Thank you.’

  He pushes his cheek into my touch, then takes my hand and kisses the tips of my fingers before placing our joined hands in his lap and holding them there, choosing to drive one-handed.

  I never want this day to end.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‘Tony.’ Miller nods in greeting, directing me past his bar manager by my neck and not seeming to notice the worried look on his face. He looks really worried, and while Miller appears fine with ignoring it, I’m not.

  ‘Livy?’ Tony says it like a question, like he’s surprised to see me. He once said Miller was happy in his own precise little world. But I know better. Miller wasn’t happy. He may have pretended to be, but I know – because he told me so himself – that he had a lovely time today.

  It’s clear that Tony doesn’t know what to think of this soaking wet, dishevelled man before him. I don’t speak, just giving a small smile of acknowledgment as we disappear from view.

  ‘He doesn’t like me,’ I muse quietly, almost reluctantly, wondering if my time will be wasted asking why that might be.

  ‘He worries too much.’ Miller’s reply is short, sharp and final as he guides me through the maze of corridors to his office. I know Tony is against us, just like everyone else, so I’m not sure why his disapproval bothers me more than the rest of the interferers. The looks? The words? And why isn’t Miller more upset about it, like he gets with the others?

  Miller taps in the code for his office and pushes the door open, and I’m immediately faced with the extreme precision of his office. Everything is how it should be.

  Except us.

  I look down at my soaking state, then to Miller’s, thinking how wrecked we both look. Strangely, now that I’m surrounded by the familiarity and exactness of Miller’s world, I feel all uncomfortable and . . . wrong.

  ‘Olivia?’ I look across to Miller, who’s at his drinks cabinet pouring a Scotch while yanking at his tie.

  ‘Sorry, daydreaming.’ I shake myself out of my silly reverie and close the door behind me.

  ‘Go and sit.’ He indicates his office chair. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Sit,’ he prompts again when I’m still standing by the door a few seconds later. ‘Go.’

  I look down at my dress, then to Miller’s fancy office chair. It was a trial and a concern sitting in Miller’s car while all soggy, and now I’m faced with his lovely leather office chair. ‘But I’m all wet.’ I pull at the hem of my dress and release it, letting it slap against my thigh in demonstration. I’m not just wet; I’m dripping.

  His glass pauses at his lips as his eyes skip over my body, absorbing the mess I’m in. Or maybe not. His eyes land on my chest and then flip to mine. They’ve gone all smoky. ‘I quite like you wet.’ His glass points at me, his fiery gaze slicing through my chilliness and igniting my dormant desire. My body lights up and my breathing stutters under the heat of cool blues.

  He starts to slowly wander over to me, casually, calm, and with a million emotions sparkling in his eyes. Want, lust, desire, resolve, and a ton of others, but I don’t get the chance to continue my mental list because his free arm slides under my bottom and lifts me to his mouth. I smell and taste Scotch, reminding me of a drunken Miller, but it’s easily dismissed under the attention of his divine mouth. Our wet clothes stick together, and my fingers delve into the messy array of his hair. This kiss is slow, meticulous and soft. He moans his pleasure and nibbles gently on my bottom lip each time he pulls away before lazily pecking me softly and pushing his tongue back into my mouth.

  ‘I need destressing,’ he mumbles, making me laugh. He’s probably the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him. ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘You.’ I pull back and take my time feeling his face – relishing in the harshness of his stubble. ‘You are funny, Miller.’

  ‘I am?’

  ‘Yes, you are.’

  He cocks his head in thought as he carries me over to his desk in one arm. ‘I’ve never been called funny before.’ I’m placed in his leather seat and turned to face his pristine desk, finding a stupid sense of calm when I note everything is in its rightful place, namely the solitary item that always graces Miller’s desk – a phone. ‘You don’t have a computer?’ I ask.

  He taps the section of desk that hides all of the screens, and I mildly smile my acknowledgment. How . . . tidy.

  ‘I promised I’d be quick.’

  ‘You did,’ I agree, relaxing back in his chair. ‘What do you need to do?’ It’s only now I wonder where any paperwork is kept, too, or stationery and files.

  The silver tie gracing his neck is removed along with his suit jacket, leaving him in his waistcoat and shirt. ‘A few calls, this and that.’

  ‘This and that,’ I whisper as I watch him place his drink accurately on his desk and kneel on the floor on the other side. He rests his forearms on the white surface and looks at me thoughtfully. It makes me sit further back in his chair. What’s he going to say?

  ‘I have a request.’

  That doesn’t improve my wariness. ‘What?’

  He smiles, obviously at my clear worry as he reaches into his pocket. ‘I’d like you to have this.’ He places something on the desk but holds his hand over it so I can’t see what’s beneath.

  My eyes flick up and down, my cautiousness magnifying. ‘What is it?’

  His smile slips a little, and I detect nerves. It only escalates mine. ‘A key to my apartment.’ He lifts his palm, revealing a Yale key.

  My muscles relax, my mind refusing to centre any attention on where my silly thoughts were heading. ‘A key,’ I breathe on a laugh.

  ‘You can stay at my place whenever you wish. Come and go as you please. Will you accept?’ He looks hopeful as he slides it across the desk towards me.

  I roll my eyes and then jump on a gasp as the door flies open and Cassie staggers in. ‘Shit!’ I curse under my breath, my heart speeding with fright. Miller’s on
his feet in an instant and crossing the room.

  ‘Cassie,’ he sighs tiredly, his broad shoulders slumping as he comes to a halt.

  ‘Well, hello!’ she laughs, holding the door for support. She’s drunk, and not just the tipsy, merry kind. I’m not looking forward to this, but however pissed she might be, she still looks sickeningly perfect. Her wobbly gaze is as rooted to Miller as it could be, given her drunken state. She hasn’t even noticed I’m here. I’m invisible.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘My date was cancelled.’ She waves an indifferent hand through the air before slamming the door shut so hard that shock waves ripple up the walls of Miller’s office.

  My eyes creep between the two of them, back and forth, liking the fact that she’s been in here only a second and Miller’s patience already seems exhausted. I hope he manhandles her from the room again. What I don’t like, though, are Cassie’s inquisitive eyes that are rooted on Miller. And I know why.

  ‘Look at the state of you!’ She’s truly shocked, and I join her in the shock department when she stumbles over to Miller and starts laying her manicured hands all over his wet body. It takes a whole lifetime’s worth of restraint not to throw myself across Miller’s office and wrestle her to the ground. I want to scream at her to remove her hands from him. ‘Oh, Miller, baby, you’re all wet.’

  Baby?

  In an attempt to distract myself, I start twisting my ring around my finger, over and over until I’m sure I’ve rubbed a blister into my skin. She’s stroking him, cooing and fussing, like he might die because he’s got a little wet.

  Get your fucking hands off him!

  ‘Miller, what happened? Who did this to you?’

  ‘I did it to myself, Cassie,’ he says touchily, taking her palms from his chest and releasing them. He steps away, and I relax a little at the distance he’s put between them. Not for long, though, because the relentless trollop closes it back up. I’m stiff as a board, conjuring up a pile of verbal abuse to lob across the room, and I’m quite alarmed by it. I force some calming thoughts, but they’re fast transforming into blood-boiling fury.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she questions uncertainly, eyes and hands beginning to roam again.

  ‘We were having a picnic in the park,’ I pipe up, no longer prepared to sit back and watch Miller tackle the pressing presence of Cassie alone. ‘We had a lovely time,’ I add, just for good measure.

  Her hands freeze in place on Miller’s torso, both of them gawking at me, Miller tired, Cassie shocked. ‘Olivia,’ she purrs. ‘What a surprise.’

  I would think she’s being sarcastic, but even if her low purr isn’t shocked, her face is. Then she turns her incredulous look onto Miller, who exhales his building frustration.

  ‘What do you want, Cassie?’ He removes her greedy palms from his chest again and starts unbuttoning his waistcoat. ‘I don’t plan on being here long.’

  ‘Well’ – she saunters over to the drinks cabinet and pours herself a large straight vodka – ‘I was hoping you’d take me out for drinks.’

  My hackles rise, and I shoot a look to Miller, who’s now shrugging off his waistcoat. His wet shirt is transparent and clinging everywhere. I cough on a choke. He looks dreamlike, and Cassie has noticed, too. All sorts of conflicting things are happening, my sass telling me to rip a strip off Cassie, my lust telling me to tackle Miller to the floor and eat him alive. Nothing about this situation is comfortable. Then Miller removes his wet shirt, exposing vast planes of taut, smooth, cut leanness, and my mouth drops open, not because of what I’m presented with, but because he’s openly offered the stunning sight to Cassie’s greedy eyes.

  Her body sways as she studies Miller’s wet, flexing muscles, her vodka paused at her lips. ‘I think you’ve had enough to drink,’ Miller grumbles, making his way to the bathroom. I watch his back disappear through the doorway, knowing Cassie has followed his path, too. My skin starts to prickle, feeling animosity hitting me. Now she’s looking at me, and even though I know I’ll probably be reduced to cinders from her filthy look, I can’t help chancing a glance.

  ‘What have you done to him?’ she spits across the room, waving her glass of vodka at the bathroom doorway.

  I need to remain calm. I’m struggling to keep my rage at bay, dying to lash out at her. She’s interfering, probably better than anyone. Yet Miller’s not displaying the same psychotic flip-outs with Cassie, just like he isn’t with Tony. Is he going to tell me that Cassie is worried, too? Yeah, she’s worried all right. She’s worried I’m going to take Miller away from her, and she’d be right to worry. I bet this woman has cattiness down to a fine art. I’ll never match her on that, it just isn’t my style, so I keep my focus on her and sit back in Miller’s chair. ‘I’ve made him see light through his darkness.’

  She recoils and exhales quietly. I’ve stunned her, shocked her into silence. It feels good, but I hear footsteps nearing, so I leave Cassie and her disbelief and carry my calm eyes across the room until I find him. He’s rubbing a towel over his head, looking at me with sparkly blues. ‘Come here,’ he says quietly, his head cocked. I’m out of the chair and across the room to join him without delay. I know that glimmer. Cassie is about to witness a little Miller-style worshipping. This will beat any kind of tongue-lashing that I could invoke. A warm palm has claimed my neck within a heartbeat and warm lips have claimed my mouth a heartbeat after that. His kiss is brief but holds all of the usual qualities and spikes all of the usual reactions, and I definitely don’t mistake the shocked inhale of breath from behind me. Yes, he lets me kiss him, and in a sad fit of ownership, I place my hands on his naked chest, just so she can see me feeling him, too. ‘Here.’ He drapes the towel across my shoulders and uses the corners to wipe my wet forehead. ‘Go and dry off in the bathroom.’

  I hesitate, not keen on leaving the room with a drunk and now-silent Cassie on the prowl. ‘I’m fine,’ I try feebly, making him smile. After dropping a chaste kiss on my cheek, he strides over to the concealed wardrobe and pulls the doors open, scans the rows of posh shirts, and then yanks one down by the sleeve. Cassie gasps in horror, Miller throws her a dirty look . . . and I go dizzy with happiness.

  ‘Put this on.’ He hands me the shirt and turns me in his arms before giving me a gentle nudge in the back. ‘Give me your dress and I’ll have someone hold it under the hand dryers for a while.’

  ‘I can do that,’ I protest, thinking it’ll be a perfect chore to pass the time while Miller gets his work done.

  ‘You’ll do no such thing,’ he scoffs, pushing me onward. I turn once I’m in the bathroom, finding Miller pulling the door shut and Cassie still staring, struck dumb at Miller’s back. ‘Five minutes.’ He nods sternly and disappears from view when the wood comes between us. I frown at the door as the fireworks within settle down, making way for a little bewilderment. I’ve just allowed him to ship me out of his office with no complaint or protest. Now the fact that he’s just manhandled one of his precious shirts and given it to me to wear doesn’t feel like progress at all. It feels like distraction. I laugh out loud. I’m stupid, and on that conclusion I open the door and present myself back into the room. Both heads turn, both faces looking heated. They are far too close, probably to keep their conversation from my earshot.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ Cassie hisses, taking a huge swig of her vodka. ‘Can’t you just get rid of it?’

  I cough my disgust as Miller swings around violently and snatches the glass from her hand. ‘Learn when to shut the fuck up!’ He slams the glass down, sending Cassie on a startled stagger. Now I can see his fury, and that is the only thing that keeps my mouth from spilling a torrent of expletives. There’s no need for me to put this woman in her place because Miller is about to do it for me. He pushes his face near hers. ‘The only thing I’ll be ridding from my life is you.’ His voice is scathing. ‘Don’t fucking push me, Cassie.’


  She grabs the cabinet for support and takes a moment to compose herself, her eyes shooting to mine briefly. ‘You’ll be crucified.’ Her words are factual. I can tell by the stiffening of Miller’s naked shoulders.

  ‘Some things are worth the risk,’ he whispers, uncertainty rife in his tone.

  ‘Nothing is worth that risk,’ Cassie whispers. There’s an element of fear in her, and that fear spreads across the room and settles within me. Deeply.

  ‘You’re wrong.’ Miller takes a long pull of calming air and steps away from her, turning impassive eyes onto me. ‘She’s worth it. I want out.’

  Cassie gasps, and if I could rip my welling eyes from Miller, then I know I’d see an astounded expression all over her perfect face. ‘You . . . Miller . . . You can’t,’ she stammers all over her words, swiping up her drink and taking a shaky gulp.

  ‘I can.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Get out, Cassie.’

  ‘Miller!’ She’s beginning to panic.

  His jaw tightens, his eyes remaining on my frozen form in the doorway as he pulls his phone from his trouser pocket, hits one button, and holds it to his ear. ‘Tony, come and get Cassie.’

  What happens next leaves me wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

  ‘No!’ She launches herself at him, knocking him into the cabinet, sending glasses and bottles crashing to the office floor. I flinch, but my legs refuse to carry me across the office to intervene. All I can do is watch in shock as Miller tries to restrain her flailing hands as she screams at him, scratches and begs. ‘You can’t! Please!’

  The signs of Miller’s frightening rage are all in the room with us, his puffing chest, wild eyes and sweating form. I hate to think what damage he could do to a woman. I despise Cassie, I hate everything about her, but even I am worried for her.

  Miller’s about to take leave of his senses.

  I drop his shirt and run across the room, disregarding the danger I may be putting myself in. I just need to make him see me, hear me, feel me. Anything to divert him from the direction I know he’s headed.