Unveiled

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  shoulders, her pink lips pursed as she scans my face.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say, no matter how much I’m not, distracted by the girl behind the counter tackling the coffee machine like she’s been here for years.

  ‘I’m glad,’ Sylvie says, smiling. ‘And Miller?’

  ‘He’s good,’ I confirm, suddenly feeling awkward, my feet shifting nervously. A surprise holiday, that’s what she thinks. After our ups and downs, Miller whisking me off to have some quality time was a perfectly feasible excuse for my sudden absence. Del sounded surprised when I called him to let him know I’d be off for a week, yet he gave me his blessing and told me to have a nice time. Problem is, it’s been more than a week.

  My phone sings from my hand, and I’m again assessing the merits of not having one at all. Concealing the screen from Sylvie’s prying eyes, I silence my phone. It’s either Miller or William, and I still don’t want to talk to either one.

  ‘So how are things here?’ I ask, using the only diversion tactic I have.

  It works. Her shiny black bob swishes when she shakes her head on a tired exhale. ‘Stupidly busy, and Del’s catering for more events than ever.’

  ‘Livy!’ Del appears at the swing door to the kitchen, quickly followed by Paul. ‘When did you get back?’

  ‘Yesterday.’ I smile awkwardly, a little embarrassed that I didn’t let him know. But it was all so sudden, and Nan consumed my mind from the moment Miller told me about her heart attack. Everything else was so inconsequential, including my job. Now that I’m here, though, I can’t wait to get started again, once I ensure Nan has fully recovered.

  ‘It’s great to see you, darling.’ Paul winks before returning to the kitchen, leaving Del wiping his hands on a tea towel. He casts a sideways glace to the girl, who’s now handing a coffee to a waiting customer, then looks back at me with an embarrassed smile. I feel self-conscious all of a sudden – uncomfortable and out of place. ‘I didn’t know when you’d be back,’ he starts. ‘And we were run off our feet. Rose here inquired about vacancies and she fell right into it.’

  My heart sinks into my Converse. I’ve been replaced, and by the look on Del’s guilty face and the sound of his sorry voice, he doesn’t plan on reinstating me. ‘Of course.’ I smile, feigning indifference to within an inch of my life. I can’t blame him. I was hardly reliable in the weeks running up to my disappearance. As I watch Rose load the filter contraption of the coffee machine, an unreasonable sense of possessiveness seeps into me. The fact that she is performing the task with ease and with one hand when she reaches to grab a cloth isn’t helping. I’ve been replaced, and worst of all, I’ve been replaced by someone more competent. I’m injured, and I’m exhausting every modicum of strength not to let it show.

  ‘It’s fine, Del. Honestly. I never expected you to keep my job open for me. I didn’t think I would be gone for so long.’ Looking down at the phone in my hand, I see Miller’s name flashing up at me but I ignore it, forcing my smile to remain fixed on my face. ‘Anyway, Nan’s being released from the hospital tomorrow, so I need to be at home to take care of her.’ It’s ironic. All that time I used Nan as an excuse to keep me away from the big wide world so I could look after her, and now she really does need my help. And I really want to be in the big wide world. I feel untold guilt for allowing a little resentment to simmer deep within me. I’m beginning to resent everyone and everything. The people who are giving me freedom are the people snatching it away from me.

  ‘Your grandmother’s ill?’ Sylvie asks, sympathy etched all over her face. ‘You never said.’

  ‘Oh, Livy, honey, I’m so sorry.’ Del moves towards me, but I back away, feeling my emotions taking hold.

  ‘It was just a scare, nothing major. They’re discharging her tomorrow or Friday.’

  ‘Oh, that’s good. You take care of her.’

  I smile as Sylvie rubs my arm. All of this empathy is unbearable. I need to escape. ‘I’ll see you,’ I say, throwing a little wave to Del as I back out of the bistro.

  ‘Make sure you keep in touch,’ my ex-boss calls before returning to the kitchen and resuming business as usual – business as usual that doesn’t include me anymore.

  ‘Take care, Livy.’ Sylvie looks guilty. She shouldn’t. This isn’t her fault, and in an attempt to ease it for her, to make her see I’m cool, I paste a huge smile on my face as I curtsy.

  She laughs, turns on her biker boots, and sashays back to the counter, leaving me to shut the door on my old job and the people I became so fond of. My feet are heavy as they carry me across the pavement, and when I finally look up, I see a waiting car and Ted holding the back door open. I slide in without a word, the door shuts, and Ted’s up front in no time, pulling into the afternoon London traffic. My low mood is obvious, as expected, yet I seem to have a taste for lowering it further.

  ‘You knew my mother.’ I utter the words quietly and get only a nod in response. ‘I think she’s back in London,’ I say casually, like it’s of no consequence if she is.

  ‘I have instructions to take you home, Miss Taylor.’ He ignores my observation, quickly telling me that Ted is going to remain tight-lipped – if, indeed, there’s anything to know at all. I hope there’s nothing to know, which begs the question why I’m digging at all. Nan will never cope.

  I concede easily to Ted’s coolness. ‘Thank you for saving me,’ I sigh, showing my white flag in the form of some gratitude.

  ‘Anytime, Miss Taylor.’ He keeps his eyes on the road, avoiding my stare in the rearview mirror.

  Gazing blankly out the window, I watch the big, wide world go by as an even bigger black cloud descends, blanketing my favourite city in a gloomy darkness that matches my current state of mind.

  Chapter 10

  July 17 1996

  Peter Smith

  Investment Banker

  46 – boring by name, wild by nature. The older man again. Married, but clearly not getting what he craves. I think he might crave me now.

  Date one: Dinner at the Savoy

  For starters, the best lobster salad I’ve tasted, but I’ll reserve judgement until I’ve eaten at the Dorchester. For main, fillet steak and some well-aimed coy looks. For dessert, a tiramisu, rounded off with a diamond bracelet. Of course, I showed my gratitude in the penthouse suite before I slipped out. I think I might see this one again. He can do incredible things with his tongue.

  I snap my mother’s journal shut and toss it onto the couch next to me, annoyed with myself. Why am I putting myself through this again? Nothing I’ll find could possibly make me feel better. I remember William once saying that she wrote this journal to torture him. And amid my own self-pity, I feel a little bit of sympathy for the man who’s currently adding to my misery. She really was a wicked woman.

  Plumping one of Nan’s frilly cushions, I rest my head back, close my eyes, and try my damn hardest to blank my mind and relax. My hardest isn’t enough, but I’m distracted when I hear someone come through the front door, then urgent footsteps approaching down the hall. Even before I open my eyes, I can picture the expensive leather shoes and the bespoke suit. Someone has his armour back.

  Sure enough, there’s Miller – in all his suited glory – standing on the threshold of the lounge. His dark waves are in disarray and despite his impassive face, his piercing blue eyes harbour fear.

  ‘You bought more suits,’ I state quietly, remaining reclined on the couch, regardless of the fact that I’m desperately craving his attention and touch.

  His hand rakes through his hair, pulling the wayward wave off his forehead, and he sighs his relief. ‘Just a few.’

  Just a few? I bet he’s replaced each and every one of the masks that I shredded.

  ‘Del gave my job to someone else.’

  I see him sag. He didn’t think it appropriate for me to be working in a cafe, yet I know for sure he would never have forced me to stop. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s not your fault.’

  He strides f
orward until he’s towering over me, his hands resting lightly in his trouser pockets. ‘I was worried about you.’

  ‘I’m a big girl, Miller.’

  ‘You’re also my possession.’

  ‘And I’m also a person with a mind of my own.’

  He fails to prevent his lips from pursing in mild annoyance. ‘Yes, a mind that overthinks, and not too clearly right now, either.’ He crouches by the sofa next to me. ‘Tell me your troubles, sweet girl.’

  ‘You mean aside from the fact that someone tried to mow me down today?’

  His eyes flash danger as his jaw sets, and I think for a moment that he might put it down to my lack of attention. But he doesn’t speak, telling me everything I need to know.

  ‘Everything.’ I don’t hesitate to go on. ‘Everything is wrong. William, Nan, Gregory, my job.’

  ‘Me,’ he breathes, reaching for my cheek. The warmth of his skin on mine has my eyes closing and my face nuzzling into his touch. ‘Don’t give up on me, Olivia. I beg you.’

  My chin trembles and I take his hand and tug my demand for his thing. He doesn’t deny me, even though he’s kitted from top to toe in the finest clothes money can buy, and he’s only just bought them. His warm body comes down on mine and the softness of his lips finds my neck. I don’t need to affirm my promise with words, so I let my body do the talking and cling to him everywhere.

  I find that peace.

  I find the serenity.

  I find a familiar deep comfort that can be found nowhere else. Miller wreaks havoc on my mind, body, and heart. And he chases it away just as well.

  We’re still in the same position an hour later. We’ve not spoken, just happy to be together. It’s dusk. Miller’s new three-piece suit must be a crumpled mess, my hair has been twisted into various knots, and my arms have drained of blood, leaving pins and needles prickling at my skin.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ he asks into my hair, and I shake my head. ‘Have you eaten today?’

  ‘Yes,’ I lie. I’m not up for food, my stomach won’t take it, and if he tries to force-feed me, I might shoot him down with my waning sass.

  He pushes himself up until he’s braced on his forearms, gazing down on me. ‘I’m going to put something casual on.’

  ‘You mean you’re going to put your shorts on.’

  His eyes twinkle, his lips twitching. ‘I’m going to make you feel comfortable.’

  ‘I’m already comfortable.’ My mind is invaded by images of a perfect bare chest on that one night. One night that has evolved into one lifetime. The one night when I thought I’d only get twenty-four hours but hoped for more. Even now, amid this nightmare, I don’t regret accepting Miller’s offer.

  ‘You may be, but my new suit isn’t.’ A disgruntled look is thrown down his torso as he lifts his body from mine. ‘I’ll be quick. And I want you naked when I get back.’

  I offer a demure smile as he backs out of the room, his eyes flicking to my figure in a silent prompt. His fiery gaze virtually burns the material from my body and the internal fizzing transforms into full-on scorching fire bolts. Then he’s gone, leaving me worked up and with nothing to do other than as I’m bid, so I slowly strip down.

  By the time I’ve cast my clothes aside, pulled the woollen throw down over me, and flicked the TV on, Miller is back, except he hasn’t got his shorts on. He has nothing on. My appreciative eyes are riveted, my body aching for his attention. He stands before me, his strong legs slightly spread, his eyes lowered. His beauty defies the imaginable. He’s the finest of masterpieces. He’s incomparable. He’s my possession.

  ‘Earth to Olivia,’ he whispers. I confront his penetrating eyes and watch, totally rapt, my lips parting to give me much needed air, as he blinks lazily. ‘I’ve had a stressful day.’

  Join the club, I think as I lift my hand and he takes it. I expect him to bring his body down to me, but I’m pulled from the couch, the woollen throw tumbling to the floor at my feet. He takes my hand around to my back and applies some pressure, pulling me into his chest. We’re touching. Everywhere.

  ‘Are you ready to de-stress me?’ His hot breath spreads across my cheeks, heating them further. ‘Are you ready for me to take you to that place where nothing exists, only us?’

  I nod and let my lids fall shut when his spare hand slides onto the back of my head and his fingers start combing through my hair.

  ‘Come with me.’ His grip shifts to my nape and I’m turned and led from the room. We only make it halfway up the stairs, and I’m prevented from going any farther when he slides his hands onto my hips and tugs back gently. ‘Brace your hands on a step.’

  ‘On the stairs?’ I look over my shoulder, seeing nothing but hunger pouring from every sharp edge of his being.

  ‘On the stairs,’ he confirms, reaching forward to take my hands and guide them to where they need to be. ‘When we’re old and grey, there’ll be nowhere that I haven’t worshipped you, Olivia Taylor. Comfortable?’

  I nod my acceptance, hearing the ripping of a foil packet. I use the time it takes Miller to sheathe himself to try and prepare. He’s tracing my back, his delicate touch drifting lightly over every piece of my exposed skin. My breathing is challenged. I’m soaking wet and trembling in anticipation, every troubled thought twisting my mind being chased away under his touch and attention. He is my escape. I am his. This is all I have. His attention and love. It’s the only thing getting me through this.

  Flexing my hands on the step and shifting my feet, I drop my head and watch as my hair tumbles to the carpet, and when I feel the hardness of his tip meet my opening, I hold my breath. He spends a few torturous moments circling a palm on my bottom, then tracing the line of my spine before he’s back at my bum, separating my cheeks. My eyes clench tighter still as his finger makes a lazy path over my anal passage, the unaccustomed sensation advancing my shakes. I’m vibrating. My whole body is quivering. His cock is still held against my core, and with the added sensation of his finger teasing my other entrance, I’m left silently begging for penetration. In either place. ‘Miller,’ I breathe, moving my grip to the edge of the step to brace myself.

  His soft touch slides down and back up over my passage, pausing over the tight ring of muscle. I tense automatically, and he hushes me as his touch drifts down to my drenched core. I push back, attempting to gain some friction and failing when he withdraws his touch and takes my hips. He advances slowly, stealing my breath as his hard, muscled length slips into me; then he hisses, his grip tightening severely to the point of pain. I whimper, a mixture of unthinkable pleasure and mild pain that throws stars into my darkness. Miller throbs within me and every internal muscle I possess utterly dominates me. I’m a slave to the sensations. I’m a slave to Miller Hart.

  ‘Move,’ I demand, dragging my limp head up and gazing to the ceiling. ‘Move!’

  A sharp inhale resonates from behind me, his fingers flexing on my hips. ‘Becoming quite the demanding lover, aren’t you?’ He remains still, and I attempt to thrust back, but find no benefit, only his hold locking me in place. ‘Savoured, Olivia. We do this my way.’

  ‘Fuck,’ I whisper hoarsely, searching deep for some calm and control. I’m being held in no-man’s-land, helpless and unable to generate the friction my body needs. ‘You always say you never make me do anything you know I don’t want to.’

  ‘Huh?’

  If I wasn’t so focused on my current desperation, I’d laugh at his genuine confusion.

  ‘You don’t want to be worshipped?’ he asks.

  ‘No, I don’t want to be held in limbo!’ There’s no calm to be found anywhere. I’ve given up trying to locate any. ‘Miller, please, just make me feel good.’

  ‘Oh shit, Olivia!’ He rears back painfully slowly and hovers there, now only a fraction within me. He’s still, but his ragged panting matches mine, and I know he’s struggling to maintain his control. ‘Beg me.’

  My teeth grit and I fly back, shouting my satisfaction when he hits me deep
and hard.

  ‘Fuck, Olivia!’ He removes himself, leaving me whimpering quiet pleas. ‘I can’t hear you.’

  I feel defeated, my scrambled mind frantically searching for the simple words I need to meet his demand.

  ‘Beg!’ His shout shocks me, and I feebly attempt to shoot back again. But I’m trapped, helpless in his hold as his tall, powerful frame remains poised behind me, waiting for me to fulfil his harsh request. ‘I’ve asked twice,’ he puffs, his breathing laboured. ‘Listen to me, Olivia.’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘Louder!’

  ‘Please!’ I shout, and follow it up with a scream when his hips fire forward, harder than I was expecting. I focus my attention on tightly moulding every internal muscle around him, making the friction when he withdraws out of this world. My arms straighten to steady me, just as he plunges deep again, and my chin drops to my chest lifelessly.