Denied
Page 61
‘Cute,’ Miller concludes when I turn to present myself to him, his eyes taking a leisurely jaunt up and down my frame, still messing with his tie. ‘No Converse today?’
I look down at my pink toenails and wriggle my feet. ‘Don’t you like them?’ I bet Miller’s feet have never seen a pair of flip-flops in their life. In fact, I bet Miller’s feet have been nothing but spoiled with handmade, top-quality fancy leather shoes. He doesn’t even wear trainers at the gym, going barefoot instead.
‘Olivia, you could wear a rag and look like a princess.’
I smile and collect my satchel, throwing it across my body, allowing myself a few riveting moments to regard Miller’s preciseness. ‘People must think we’re a strange match.’
His face contorts with a frown as he approaches and takes my nape, leading me out of the bedroom. ‘Why?’
‘Well, you all suited and booted and me’ – I look down, searching for the right word – ‘cutesy.’ I can’t think of a better one.
‘Enough of that,’ he scolds me quietly as we take the stairs. ‘Say goodbye to your grandmother.’
‘Bye, Nan!’ I call, not being given the opportunity to find her. I’m led straight to the door.
‘Have fun!’ she calls from the kitchen.
‘I’ll deliver Olivia home later,’ Miller says, back to formal, just as the front door shuts behind us. I glance up at him with resigned eyes and ignore his questioning look when he catches it. ‘Get in.’ He opens the door of his Mercedes for me, and I slip into the soft leather of the passenger seat.
The door is shut gently and he’s beside me, starting the car and pulling off before I have a chance to put my seat belt on. ‘So what are we doing?’ I enquire again as I pull my belt across my body.
‘You tell me.’
I look across at him, surprised, but don’t delay my answer. ‘Park up near Mayfair.’
‘Mayfair?’
‘Yes, we’ll wander.’ I return my stare forward, noticing the dual temperature display glowing the digits ‘16’, just as they were last time, except now it’s far warmer. I suddenly feel stifled, but not wanting to upset Miller’s perfect world, I open the window a touch instead.
‘Wander,’ he muses thoughtfully, like it worries him. It probably does, but I ignore the concern in his tone and remain quiet in my seat. ‘Wander,’ he says to himself again, starting to tap the steering wheel. I can feel the uncertainty rolling off him in waves. ‘She wants to wander.’
I smile on an undetectable shake of my head, then settle further into my seat when Miller kills the stretching silence by turning the media system on. Kid Mac’s ‘Pursuit of Happiness’ fills the car, and my face scrunches up in utter wonder at Miller’s continued surprising choices in music. I know for sure he’s flicking occasional glances in my direction, but I don’t humour him with my curious mind. Instead, I remain silent for the rest of the journey, musing over so many elements of my curious Miller Hart and the curious world that I’ve come willingly into.
Chapter Nineteen
When Miller slips into a parking space and cuts the engine, I know better than to let myself out of the car. He rounds the front, fastening his jacket, and opens the door for me. ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Most welcome,’ he replies, with no hint of acknowledging my sarcasm. ‘Now what?’ He glances around at our surroundings briefly, then pulls the sleeve of his jacket up to check the time.
‘Are you in a rush?’ I ask, immediately irritated by his rude gesture.
His eyes flick to mine and his arm drops. ‘Not in the least bit.’ He straightens his suit again, anything to avoid my bitter tone. ‘What now?’ he repeats.
‘We wander.’
‘Where?’
My shoulders droop. This is going to be hard work. ‘This is supposed to be relaxing. Something leisurely and enjoyable.’
‘I can think of far more gratifying ways to pass my time, Olivia, and it doesn’t involve keeping you in public.’ He’s wholly serious, and my thighs clench as he takes another fill of his surroundings.
‘Have you ever wandered?’ I ask.
Curious eyes return to mine quickly. ‘I go from A to B.’
‘You’ve never basked in the opulence London has to offer?’ I ask, astounded that anyone could live in this beautifully grand city and not immerse themselves in its history. It’s a travesty.
‘You’re one of London’s finest opulences, and I’d love to bask in you right now.’ He studies me thoughtfully, and I know what’s coming. The increased beat between my legs is a good sign, and so is the desire pooling in his eyes after executing one of those lazy blinks. ‘But I can’t very well worship you here, can I?’
‘No,’ I answer quickly and decidedly staunchly before I’m hauled deeper into those riveting blue eyes. He doesn’t want to wander, but I do. I’m bubbling everywhere, my desire tangible in the open air around us, but I want to take pleasure from Miller in another way. ‘What about your paintings?’
‘What about them?’
‘You must appreciate the beauty of the things you paint or you wouldn’t bother painting them.’ I disregard the fact that they could be even more beautiful if they were clearer.
He shrugs nonchalantly, again looking around us. It’s really irritating me now. ‘I see something I admire, I take a picture and I paint it.’
‘Just like that?’
‘Yes.’ He doesn’t give me his eyes.
‘Don’t you think it would be far more rewarding if you painted it in the flesh?’
‘I don’t see why.’
On a tired exhale of breath, I toss my bag over my shoulder. I still don’t fully get him, despite constantly telling myself that I do. I’m kidding myself. ‘Ready?’
He answers by taking my nape and pushing onward, but I halt and wriggle free of his hold. Then I hit him with a contemptuous look as he stares down at me, puzzlement obvious on his lovely face. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘You’re not guiding me around London by my neck.’
‘Why ever not?’ He’s truly flummoxed. ‘I like having you that close. I assumed you like it.’
‘I do,’ I admit. The warmth of his palm spread across my nape is always an appreciated comfort. But not while wandering around London. ‘Hold my hand.’ I can’t imagine that Miller has ever held a woman’s hand casually, and I also can’t picture it. He’s led me by my hand on a few occasions, but it’s always been purposeful – to put me somewhere he wants me to be, never relaxed and lovingly.
He spends way too long thinking about my request before he eventually takes my offering with a little pucker of his brow.
‘Boo!’ I yell with a smirk, making him wince and give a little startled jump before he quickly composes himself and slowly lifts unamused blue eyes to mine. I smile. ‘I don’t bite.’
He’s full to the brim with aggravation, I can tell, but he’s giving me nothing but his cool impassiveness. It doesn’t affect my smiling face, though. I’m properly grinning. ‘Sass,’ he says simply, firming up his grip, refusing to humour me as he takes the lead.
I look down at my pink toenails and wriggle my feet. ‘Don’t you like them?’ I bet Miller’s feet have never seen a pair of flip-flops in their life. In fact, I bet Miller’s feet have been nothing but spoiled with handmade, top-quality fancy leather shoes. He doesn’t even wear trainers at the gym, going barefoot instead.
‘Olivia, you could wear a rag and look like a princess.’
I smile and collect my satchel, throwing it across my body, allowing myself a few riveting moments to regard Miller’s preciseness. ‘People must think we’re a strange match.’
His face contorts with a frown as he approaches and takes my nape, leading me out of the bedroom. ‘Why?’
‘Well, you all suited and booted and me’ – I look down, searching for the right word – ‘cutesy.’ I can’t think of a better one.
‘Enough of that,’ he scolds me quietly as we take the stairs. ‘Say goodbye to your grandmother.’
‘Bye, Nan!’ I call, not being given the opportunity to find her. I’m led straight to the door.
‘Have fun!’ she calls from the kitchen.
‘I’ll deliver Olivia home later,’ Miller says, back to formal, just as the front door shuts behind us. I glance up at him with resigned eyes and ignore his questioning look when he catches it. ‘Get in.’ He opens the door of his Mercedes for me, and I slip into the soft leather of the passenger seat.
The door is shut gently and he’s beside me, starting the car and pulling off before I have a chance to put my seat belt on. ‘So what are we doing?’ I enquire again as I pull my belt across my body.
‘You tell me.’
I look across at him, surprised, but don’t delay my answer. ‘Park up near Mayfair.’
‘Mayfair?’
‘Yes, we’ll wander.’ I return my stare forward, noticing the dual temperature display glowing the digits ‘16’, just as they were last time, except now it’s far warmer. I suddenly feel stifled, but not wanting to upset Miller’s perfect world, I open the window a touch instead.
‘Wander,’ he muses thoughtfully, like it worries him. It probably does, but I ignore the concern in his tone and remain quiet in my seat. ‘Wander,’ he says to himself again, starting to tap the steering wheel. I can feel the uncertainty rolling off him in waves. ‘She wants to wander.’
I smile on an undetectable shake of my head, then settle further into my seat when Miller kills the stretching silence by turning the media system on. Kid Mac’s ‘Pursuit of Happiness’ fills the car, and my face scrunches up in utter wonder at Miller’s continued surprising choices in music. I know for sure he’s flicking occasional glances in my direction, but I don’t humour him with my curious mind. Instead, I remain silent for the rest of the journey, musing over so many elements of my curious Miller Hart and the curious world that I’ve come willingly into.
Chapter Nineteen
When Miller slips into a parking space and cuts the engine, I know better than to let myself out of the car. He rounds the front, fastening his jacket, and opens the door for me. ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Most welcome,’ he replies, with no hint of acknowledging my sarcasm. ‘Now what?’ He glances around at our surroundings briefly, then pulls the sleeve of his jacket up to check the time.
‘Are you in a rush?’ I ask, immediately irritated by his rude gesture.
His eyes flick to mine and his arm drops. ‘Not in the least bit.’ He straightens his suit again, anything to avoid my bitter tone. ‘What now?’ he repeats.
‘We wander.’
‘Where?’
My shoulders droop. This is going to be hard work. ‘This is supposed to be relaxing. Something leisurely and enjoyable.’
‘I can think of far more gratifying ways to pass my time, Olivia, and it doesn’t involve keeping you in public.’ He’s wholly serious, and my thighs clench as he takes another fill of his surroundings.
‘Have you ever wandered?’ I ask.
Curious eyes return to mine quickly. ‘I go from A to B.’
‘You’ve never basked in the opulence London has to offer?’ I ask, astounded that anyone could live in this beautifully grand city and not immerse themselves in its history. It’s a travesty.
‘You’re one of London’s finest opulences, and I’d love to bask in you right now.’ He studies me thoughtfully, and I know what’s coming. The increased beat between my legs is a good sign, and so is the desire pooling in his eyes after executing one of those lazy blinks. ‘But I can’t very well worship you here, can I?’
‘No,’ I answer quickly and decidedly staunchly before I’m hauled deeper into those riveting blue eyes. He doesn’t want to wander, but I do. I’m bubbling everywhere, my desire tangible in the open air around us, but I want to take pleasure from Miller in another way. ‘What about your paintings?’
‘What about them?’
‘You must appreciate the beauty of the things you paint or you wouldn’t bother painting them.’ I disregard the fact that they could be even more beautiful if they were clearer.
He shrugs nonchalantly, again looking around us. It’s really irritating me now. ‘I see something I admire, I take a picture and I paint it.’
‘Just like that?’
‘Yes.’ He doesn’t give me his eyes.
‘Don’t you think it would be far more rewarding if you painted it in the flesh?’
‘I don’t see why.’
On a tired exhale of breath, I toss my bag over my shoulder. I still don’t fully get him, despite constantly telling myself that I do. I’m kidding myself. ‘Ready?’
He answers by taking my nape and pushing onward, but I halt and wriggle free of his hold. Then I hit him with a contemptuous look as he stares down at me, puzzlement obvious on his lovely face. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘You’re not guiding me around London by my neck.’
‘Why ever not?’ He’s truly flummoxed. ‘I like having you that close. I assumed you like it.’
‘I do,’ I admit. The warmth of his palm spread across my nape is always an appreciated comfort. But not while wandering around London. ‘Hold my hand.’ I can’t imagine that Miller has ever held a woman’s hand casually, and I also can’t picture it. He’s led me by my hand on a few occasions, but it’s always been purposeful – to put me somewhere he wants me to be, never relaxed and lovingly.
He spends way too long thinking about my request before he eventually takes my offering with a little pucker of his brow.
‘Boo!’ I yell with a smirk, making him wince and give a little startled jump before he quickly composes himself and slowly lifts unamused blue eyes to mine. I smile. ‘I don’t bite.’
He’s full to the brim with aggravation, I can tell, but he’s giving me nothing but his cool impassiveness. It doesn’t affect my smiling face, though. I’m properly grinning. ‘Sass,’ he says simply, firming up his grip, refusing to humour me as he takes the lead.
