back. I shake off William, too, when he makes a play for my arm. ‘Leave me.’
‘Olivia,’ William warns, making a grab for me again.
‘No.’ I shake him off and step forward, my bravery accelerating just from the look of utter contempt being lobbed at me from Charlie. This evil arsehole is my uncle. It might be a slight improvement on Dad, but it still makes me want to take a shower. ‘Your wife has left you.’
He scoffs, genuinely amused by my news. ‘She wouldn’t dare.’
‘She’s on a plane.’
‘Rubbish.’
‘Escaping you.’
‘Never.’
‘But before she boarded, she shared something with Miller.’ I go on, getting a thrill from the slight falter of his malevolent smirk. ‘There is no footage of Miller killing one of your men.’ I speak evenly, now hearing Sophia’s words before she hung up crisp and clear. ‘Because she destroyed it.’
His faltering magnifies.
This immoral bastard has crawled through life on the back of manipulation. Resentment has eaten him alive for years. This evil bastard is on his way to hell and I hope one of the two men I love helps him get there. ‘Gracie didn’t love you. And neither does Sophia.’
‘I said, shut up!’ He’s beginning to shake, but my fear has fallen away along with my twisted mind.
‘She got rid of the gun, too. You have nothing!’ I’m suddenly flying back and am pinned to a wall, Charlie’s hand around my throat.
I hear screaming, but it’s not mine. It’s Gracie. ‘Don’t touch her!’
Charlie’s face is up close to mine, his body pressing me into the wall. I gulp repeatedly, trying to breathe. ‘You pathetic little slut,’ he growls, ‘just like your mother.’ His breath is crawling across my stunned face.
Only for a split second, though, because his body is suddenly catapulting backwards and William slams him to the ground in one swift motion. I watch in horror as all hell breaks loose.
I don’t need to see or hear what happens next. I have a good idea, and finding Miller is my only purpose now. All of this sickness, the web of lies and deceit, it’s played too big a part in both of our lives. It ends now.
I steam through the middle of them all, hearing repeated cracks – which I conclude very quickly to be William’s fist meeting Charlie’s face – followed by torrents of shouted curses. They’re on their own. I’m wasting no more time being subjected to the horrors of their fucked-up lives. I’ve been forced to endure far too much already, and I’m about to pull Miller from Charlie’s corrupt clutches. I break free of the study, leaving behind a commotion of epic proportions, and rush towards the sounds of chatter and laughter. I thought I had all the facts. I thought I had the story. I’ve been mentally processing it all for nothing. Now I have a new version, the updated version, and I hate it more than the original.
I follow my feet to a massive lounge and immediately find myself lost amid a sea of posh gowns and tuxedos, the women holding champagne glasses, the men sipping from tumblers. The money in this room would be enough to blow my mind if it wasn’t focused on finding Miller. My eyes dart everywhere, scanning the faces of people, desperately searching for him. I don’t see him. Anywhere. My legs kick into action, weaving me through the throngs of people. I catch a few eyes, make a few frown, but most are totally indulged in their company and fine drinks. A waiter passes me with a tray full of champagne flutes, and although I clearly make him pull up on a creased brow, he still offers me the tray.
‘No,’ I dismiss him rudely, continuing to scan the vast space, shouting my frustration when I still fail to find him.
‘Olivia, baby?’ A warm palm meets my arm, and I flinch, flying around violently. I find my mum scanning me with worried eyes.
‘Where is he?’ I shout, drawing a million eyes in my direction. ‘I need to find him!’ My panic blankets my determination and my emotions take hold, making my body shake and my eyes flood with tears of dread. I’ve been stalled too long. I might be too late.
‘Shhh,’ she hushes me like a baby, and pulls my unresponsive body into her side, stroking my hair.
There’s only a tiny piece of me allowing myself to register the immense comfort I’m feeling from her warmth surrounding me. It’s confusing and bizarre, but so needed. It defies everything, yet feels so right. From my hiding place in the crook of her neck, I feel her head moving around, and I know it’s because she’s looking for Miller, too.
‘Help me,’ I whisper pitifully, crumbling under the trauma. ‘Please, Mum.’
She stops moving and I feel her heart pick up its pace under my palm resting on her chest. She pulls me from her embrace and spends a few moments drinking in every little piece of my face, finishing at my eyes. I just gaze at sapphires that match mine and let her wipe away the tears trickling down my cheeks. ‘We’ll find him, baby,’ she promises, closing her watery eyes and pushing her lips to my forehead. ‘We’ll find your love.’
She starts to pull me through the crowd, not caring to be polite or considerate. ‘Move,’ she orders, making dozens of people jump back, wary. As my feet scurry to keep up with her, I hear the hushed whispers of the people we’re leaving behind, and I definitely register the shocked mention of my mother’s name from more than one person. It’s not only me who feels like she’s returned from the dead.
We make it into the huge entrance hall, but Gracie stops, and I watch as she casts her eyes around the area. She doesn’t know where to head next.
‘He’s in the Dolby Suite.’ Tony’s voice comes from nowhere and I turn to see him holding out a key to me. But my heart plummets. My lungs shut down. He’s in a bedroom.
I snatch the key and fly up the stairs like a bullet before I can catch my breath, frantic and shouting his name. ‘Miller!’ I scream, rounding the landing. ‘Miller!’ I clock the gold plaque on the door stating the dolby suite and fumble to get the key in the lock before crashing through the door like a wrecking ball. The sound of the wood hitting the wall behind it echoes through the entire house, virtually making it shake. My eyes are wild as they dart around the enormous suite, and my hysterical mind is blitzed by panic, not allowing any further instructions to filter through as I stand on the threshold.
Then I see him.
And my heart shatters into a million fragments of devastation.
He’s naked, blindfolded, his arms bound to gold rings protruding from the fancy wallpaper. I’m arrested by shock. His chin is dropped to his chest, and it stays that way as I heave and shake on the spot, screaming to myself to go to him. He hasn’t moved a muscle. I swallow down my choked sob when I realise I’m too late and let out a scream of frustration, only then noticing a tall blonde woman with a whip in hand prowling towards me.
‘How dare you interrupt!’ she yells, lashing the whip. The tip catches my cheek, and I recoil, immediately feeling blood trickling down the side of my face. My hand flies to my cheek, my body staggering back in shock. My eyes are pulling, wanting to check on Miller, but her malevolence keeps my wary attention. It’s potent and gushing from her like a tidal wave. ‘You’re interrupting,’ she snarls, a tinge of an accent in her tone. Russian. ‘Leave!’
There is not a chance in hell I’m leaving him. I see red. ‘You can’t have him!’ I scream, deranged, recoiling when she snaps the whip again. My anger is dominating every fibre of my being, sending my initial fear crashing and burning to the shiny wooden floor.
I scan the room for anything remotely damaging to arm myself with, catching a glimpse of metal on the bed. Miller’s belt. I dart over and yank it from his trousers, flying around erratically. I tense everywhere, that red mist thickening, blinding me, as I prepare to strike.
‘You little bitch. What do you think you’re going to do?’ She stalks closer, whip twitching, completely unfazed by my threat.
‘He belongs to me.’ I grit my teeth, desperately fighting to hold my poise. I won’t be whole until I’m out of here and Miller is safely in my arms.
‘Get away from him!’ She’s suddenly beside me, grabbing at Miller’s arm, staking her claim. He flinches on a heart-breaking whimper.
I can’t bear the sound.
I tear around, livid, swinging my hand out without stopping to aim. ‘Don’t touch him!’ I scream, the back of my hand colliding with her face on an ear-piercing slap. She staggers back, disorientated, and I take advantage of her stumble, throwing my palms into her chest to push her farther away from Miller. My Miller.
I have no fear. None at all. I slowly return my attention to Miller, but I gasp when my hand is suddenly seized. Not by her hand, though. Pain sears through my flesh and I look down to see the leather of her sick weapon wrapped around my burning wrist.
‘Move away,’ she repeats, yanking at the whip and hauling me towards her. I cry out in pain, realising quickly that I’m getting way out of my depth. She’s not going to give him up.
‘You move away, Ekaterina.’
My head whips up at the sound of my mother’s voice, and I find her at the doorway, heaving, taking a moment to assess the situation. She looks angry, her stance wide, her eyes flicking from me to Miller before settling on the sick bitch who’s attached to me by a whip. My mother’s face is twisted with contempt.
And she has a gun in her hand.
I’m struck dumb, my eyes rooted on the weapon pointing right at the Russian.
I only have to wait a few seconds before the constricting leather releases from my wrist, and I begin rubbing the pain away on a wince.
‘Gracie Taylor,’ she muses, smiling. ‘I’m going to pretend you haven’t got a gun pointing at my head.’ Her accent sounds hypnotising and calm.
‘You do that.’ Gracie steps forward. ‘Then ring your brother and tell him Charlie hasn’t delivered.’
Perfectly threaded eyebrows arch in surprise. ‘Why would I do that?’
‘The deal Charlie and your dear brother struck is void. Miller doesn’t belong to Charlie anymore, Ekaterina. He’s not Charlie’s to give. Look at him. Does he look willing to you? Charlie did that. I’m sure that’s not what you were anticipating after everything you’ve heard about the Special One.’ My mum’s lips curl, showing a hardness in her I haven’t yet seen. ‘I know you don’t want to tarnish your formidable reputation with the label “rapist”, Ekaterina.’
She drops her whip and casts a look over to Miller, pouting, before returning her attention to my mother. ‘I like to hear them begging me to stop.’ She looks slighted as she slowly wanders over to Gracie, who lowers the gun cautiously. ‘And you say Charlie Anderson did this to him? Drugged him? Made him utterly useless to me?’
‘Do you want it in blood?’
‘Yes,’ she sneers, looking my mother up and down. ‘Charlie’s blood.’ She’s serious. ‘I think I’ll call my brother. He doesn’t like it when I’m upset.’
‘No one likes it when you are upset, Ekaterina.’
‘Very true.’ She almost laughs as she turns a filthy look on me. ‘She looks like you, Gracie. Maybe you could teach her some manners.’
‘Her manners are just fine in the right company,’ she retorts, making Ekaterina smile coldly at my mother’s front. ‘Charlie’s in the drawing room. William has left him breathing for you. Think of it as a thank-you from my daughter.’
She smiles, nodding agreeably. ‘You have a brave girl, Gracie. Maybe too brave.’ I can see the pleasure filling her immoral bones at the mere thought of revenge. ‘I am grateful for your gift.’ Her accent rolls beautifully, despite the violent edge to her tone. ‘Goodbye, Gracie.’ She sashays out of the room, her hips swaying seductively as she drags the whip behind her.
Gracie lets out an audible breath of relief, the gun dropping to the floor, and as soon as the Russian is out of sight, I go straight to Miller, grabbing a towel from the bed on my way. My heart cracks as I wrap the towel around his waist and make quick work of releasing his arms, leaving him falling towards me fast. The best I can do is fold to the floor with him, breaking his fall.
Through his spaced-out state, he manages to cling on to me, and we remain locked together on the floor forever, him mumbling confused words, me humming softly in his ear.
‘I’ll never stop loving you, Miller Hart,’ I whisper, kissing his ear gently and breathing him into me. ‘It’s over.’
I know he hasn’t the capability to utter any words in his current state, but he speaks to me perfectly clearly when he drags his arm from around my back and takes his hand to my tummy. Then he starts circling softly with his heavy palm until I’m certain our baby replies to his touch. A pop of bubbles flutters in my stomach.
‘My baby,’ he whispers.
I’m disturbed from my contentment by my mother’s hand on my shoulder. The heat spreads across my skin and travels directly into my heart, forcing me to break away from Miller, confused, because I know the source of the comfort isn’t him. It’s an added ease, and when I peel my lids open, my eyes find Gracie kneeling before us, mildly smiling. ‘Are you ready to take him home, baby?’ she asks, stroking my arm comfortingly.
I nod, hating having to disturb Miller in my arms but eager to take him away from here. ‘Miller?’ I whisper, gently nudging him, but he doesn’t respond, leaving me looking up to Gracie for help.
My attention is pulled to the door when William strides in. I can’t retain my shock. My eyes widen as they take in his dishevelled state – his grey hair mussed up, his suit all creased. He’s flexing his hand and his anger’s still so very apparent. There’s only a slight blemish to his jaw, but I get the feeling Charlie isn’t in such great shape.
‘We need to get out of here,’ he mutters, assessing what he’s walked in on.
‘Miller can’t walk.’ My throat is almost too tight with grief to speak.
With calm, efficient movements, William strides across the room and hauls Miller into his arms, nodding to Gracie in a silent gesture to help me up, which she does quickly, sensing his silent urgency, despite his calmness.
‘I’m good.’ Miller’s scratchy voice breaks through my worry, and I snap my head up to see him wrestling his way out of William’s hold. ‘For fuck’s sake, let go of me.’
Relief makes me dizzy as I watch him find his feet and then swipe at his hair repeatedly in an attempt to restore his messier than usual waves back to just messy. He pulls the towel in and glances up, hitting me with eyes that are way wider than normal, the black of his pupils nearly cancelling out the blue. They are still very piercing, despite the dilation. I keep still under his intense stare, letting him take me in for a while, refresh his memory of me, until he nods lazily, then follows it up with a drawn out blink of his eyes.
‘What’s going on?’
He’ll hate this. He’s the centre of attention, half-naked and vulnerable.
‘You were drugged. We can explain more later,’ William tells him, not so calmly now. ‘We need to get out of here.’
It doesn’t feel like there’s much air in this posh suite, but after William’s statement, there’s none. Miller’s already wide eyes have just expanded, almost popping from his head. He doesn’t speak, just stands quietly absorbing the news, his jaw ticking violently. I think myself sadistic for wanting to desperately know what�
�s running through his mind. ‘Where’s Charlie?’ His deadly tone tells me it’s murder.
William steps forward, holding Miller’s glazed eyes with harsh grey. ‘It’s over, Miller. Walk away a free man, no blood on your hands, no guilt on your conscience.’
‘There would be no guilt,’ he seethes. ‘None.’
‘For Olivia.’
He scowls at William, his lip curling. ‘Or because he’s your brother.’
‘No, because we are better men.’
I see William’s head cock to the side, and Miller looks at him thoughtfully for a few moments, clearly reading a look. ‘Where are my clothes?’ he spits, glancing around the room and striding over to the bed when he spots them. ‘Some privacy, please.’
‘Hart, we haven’t got time for you to start getting all fucking particular.’
‘Two minutes!’ he yells, yanking his shirt over his shoulders.
I wince and watch as William practically bites his tongue to stop himself retaliating. ‘You have one.’ He grabs Gracie’s arm and guides her from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Then I watch as the Miller Hart I know rapidly comes together with each piece of expensive clothing he pulls on. He yanks at his sleeves, straightens his tie, and fiddles with his collar, but it’s all done far faster than I’ve ever seen before, and though he’s restored, he’s not fully restored. The vacant look in his eyes is still lingering and I suspect it will be for a while.
When he’s done, I see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat before he casts his eyes upward to me. ‘Are you OK?’ he asks, looking down to my tummy. ‘Tell me you’re both OK.’
My palm meets my stomach without thought. ‘We’re fine,’ I assure him, earning a sharp nod of acknowledgement.
‘Excellent,’ he breathes, a huge amount of relief apparent
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