Denied
Page 66
‘Don’t ever thank me, Livy.’
‘I’ll always be grateful for you.’ I finish up with my smoothing hands and step back. He’s brought me back to life, even if that life is questionable and stressful. But I have my fastidious part-time gentleman and his perfect, precise world now.
Superb shoes appear in my downcast vision, prompting my eyes to flip up to his. He’s still smiling, but it’s subsided a little. ‘You have thirty minutes.’
‘Right!’ I snap from my thoughtfulness and immediately stride off towards a wall of shelves with piles and piles of jeans filling them. Miller in jeans just seems . . . weird, but I’m desperate to see the back of those suits, or at least reduce their appearances. And the potential of his perfect arse encased in perfect denim is far too appealing to resist. I scan the tags that describe the fit of each style and finally snatch down a stonewash pair that claim to be a relaxed fit. Which sounds perfect. ‘Here.’ I turn as I shake them out, trying to gauge the size. The legs of these are way too short for Miller’s long, lean limbs. I quickly fold them back up and swap them for a longer leg. ‘There.’ I hold them up against my front, smiling to myself when I have to raise the waist to the base of my chest just to get the hem of the legs off the floor. ‘These should fit.’
‘Would you like to know my size?’ he asks, pulling my stare from the blue denim to the blue of his smiling eyes. They’re nearly a perfect match.
My lips press together and I make a quick scan of his physique.
‘This body should be carved onto that lovely mind of yours, Livy.’ His voice is low, seductive, and sexy as sin.
‘It is’ – I shuffle on the spot – ‘but I couldn’t put numbers on it.’
‘Those are perfect.’ He takes them from my hands and gives the garment a dubious look. ‘And what would my gorgeous girl have me wear with them?’
I grin at his willingness to humour me and pivot, spotting a T-shirt across the way. ‘That.’ I point and watch from the corner of my eye as Miller follows my gesture.
‘That?’ he questions, a hint of alarm in his tone.
‘Yes.’ I wander over and unhook the faded, vintage-look T-shirt from the rail. ‘Plain, casual, laid-back.’ I hold it up. ‘Perfect.’
He doesn’t think it’s perfect at all, but he still joins me and takes it from my hand. ‘Feet?’
I glance around on a frown. ‘Where’s the shoe department?’
A heavy sigh engulfs my hearing. ‘I’ll show you.’
It’s a strain for him, but I’m utterly stunned by his willingness, not that I’ll show it. Right now, I’m in my element. ‘Lead the way.’ I swoop my hand out on a grin and immediately follow him when he strides off. My hands are twitching at my sides, desperate to grab a few more items on our travels, but I know this is taking all of his patience and the risk of him running out of it deters me. One step at a time.
I watch Miller with interest as we pass through another department, this one bursting at the seams with suits. They’re everywhere, teasing him, and it takes everything in me not to laugh when I catch him having a cheeky peek. ‘Ralph Lauren does some exquisite suits,’ he remarks quietly, forcing himself to push on.
‘He also does lovely casual wear,’ I counter, knowing Miller wouldn’t know that.
‘Miller!’ The high-pitched shrill eats away at the flesh on my shoulders and when I turn to see an annoyingly preened woman approaching, a sour expression replaces my happy face. She’s glowing, hurrying her steps to make it to him faster. She’s near-on perfect, just like the rest of them, all shiny hair, flawless make-up, and expensive clothes. I’m bracing myself for another reality check. I immediately hate her.
‘How are you?’ she sings at him, not giving me a second glance. No, her attention is rooted on my perfect Miller. ‘You look as dashing as always.’
‘Bethany,’ Miller greets, flat and cold, all evidence of the ease that was delighting me disappearing in a flash of red lips and perfectly styled hair. ‘I’m very well, thank you. Yourself?’
She pouts her lips and transfers her weight onto one hip, tilting her body to the side. Her body language is throwing off vibes of attraction left, right, and full-force centre. ‘Always well, you know that.’
I roll my eyes and bite my tongue, wilting on the inside. Another one. Now she just needs to spot me and finish me off with one of those looks or the delivery of some mocking words. And if she pulls out one of his cards, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.
‘Excellent,’ he replies, short and sharp, despite being perfectly polite. I can sense his restlessness, all of the signs of Miller and his need to repel people surfacing, and it’s in this moment that I wonder why these women are so taken by him when he can be so hostile. He’s a perfect gentleman on dates – he said so himself – but what’s the pull beyond that? How would they respond to him if he were to bless them with his worshipping ways? I inwardly laugh. They’d be like me. Non-functioning without him. Doomed. Dead.
Miller clears his throat and shifts the clothes in his hands. ‘We’ll be on our way,’ he says, sidestepping Bethany, obviously expecting me to follow, but when I feel a pair of inquisitive eyes land on me, I’m unable to convince my legs to move. Here it comes.
‘Oh,’ she breathes, running interested eyes down the full length of me. ‘Looks like someone beat me to him today.’ My mouth drops open and she smiles, clearly unperturbed by my affronted state. ‘I’m sorry, you are?’
I’m going to tell her exactly who I am. Accept it or learn to deal with it better. Those are my options. I have sass, that’s been confirmed, and I need to start using it wisely. This woman, just like the rest of them, makes me feel inferior, yet Miller isn’t showing signs of anger at the potential of this woman driving a wedge between us or making me doubt my worthiness. ‘Hi, I’m Oli—’
‘Sorry, we’re late,’ Miller cuts me off, just when I’ve located my sass and am about to unleash it. ‘Always a pleasure.’ He nods at Bethany, who now looks really interested, and gently pushes into my back rather than take his customary hold of my neck.
‘Oh, it is,’ Bethany purrs. The rigidity that dominates Miller’s entire being is instant. ‘Hope to see you soon.’
I’m pushed away fast, both of us silent, the tension palpable. Always a pleasure. I bristle on the inside and out. We round a corner, arriving at the men’s shoe department, and Miller immediately grabs the first pair in sight and presents them to me. I don’t look. Bethany has undone all of our progress this morning. ‘These?’ He’s desperately trying to divert me. It won’t work. The sass I was about to hit that woman with is now bubbling, a bit of anger mixing in for good measure, and there’s only one other person to release it on.
I bat the shoes away. ‘No.’
He recoils, eyes wide and perfect lips slightly agape. ‘I beg your pardon?’
My eyes narrow into angry slits. ‘Don’t start with the begging,’ I warn. ‘She was a client. Could she be following me?’
‘No.’ He almost laughs.
‘I’ll always be grateful for you.’ I finish up with my smoothing hands and step back. He’s brought me back to life, even if that life is questionable and stressful. But I have my fastidious part-time gentleman and his perfect, precise world now.
Superb shoes appear in my downcast vision, prompting my eyes to flip up to his. He’s still smiling, but it’s subsided a little. ‘You have thirty minutes.’
‘Right!’ I snap from my thoughtfulness and immediately stride off towards a wall of shelves with piles and piles of jeans filling them. Miller in jeans just seems . . . weird, but I’m desperate to see the back of those suits, or at least reduce their appearances. And the potential of his perfect arse encased in perfect denim is far too appealing to resist. I scan the tags that describe the fit of each style and finally snatch down a stonewash pair that claim to be a relaxed fit. Which sounds perfect. ‘Here.’ I turn as I shake them out, trying to gauge the size. The legs of these are way too short for Miller’s long, lean limbs. I quickly fold them back up and swap them for a longer leg. ‘There.’ I hold them up against my front, smiling to myself when I have to raise the waist to the base of my chest just to get the hem of the legs off the floor. ‘These should fit.’
‘Would you like to know my size?’ he asks, pulling my stare from the blue denim to the blue of his smiling eyes. They’re nearly a perfect match.
My lips press together and I make a quick scan of his physique.
‘This body should be carved onto that lovely mind of yours, Livy.’ His voice is low, seductive, and sexy as sin.
‘It is’ – I shuffle on the spot – ‘but I couldn’t put numbers on it.’
‘Those are perfect.’ He takes them from my hands and gives the garment a dubious look. ‘And what would my gorgeous girl have me wear with them?’
I grin at his willingness to humour me and pivot, spotting a T-shirt across the way. ‘That.’ I point and watch from the corner of my eye as Miller follows my gesture.
‘That?’ he questions, a hint of alarm in his tone.
‘Yes.’ I wander over and unhook the faded, vintage-look T-shirt from the rail. ‘Plain, casual, laid-back.’ I hold it up. ‘Perfect.’
He doesn’t think it’s perfect at all, but he still joins me and takes it from my hand. ‘Feet?’
I glance around on a frown. ‘Where’s the shoe department?’
A heavy sigh engulfs my hearing. ‘I’ll show you.’
It’s a strain for him, but I’m utterly stunned by his willingness, not that I’ll show it. Right now, I’m in my element. ‘Lead the way.’ I swoop my hand out on a grin and immediately follow him when he strides off. My hands are twitching at my sides, desperate to grab a few more items on our travels, but I know this is taking all of his patience and the risk of him running out of it deters me. One step at a time.
I watch Miller with interest as we pass through another department, this one bursting at the seams with suits. They’re everywhere, teasing him, and it takes everything in me not to laugh when I catch him having a cheeky peek. ‘Ralph Lauren does some exquisite suits,’ he remarks quietly, forcing himself to push on.
‘He also does lovely casual wear,’ I counter, knowing Miller wouldn’t know that.
‘Miller!’ The high-pitched shrill eats away at the flesh on my shoulders and when I turn to see an annoyingly preened woman approaching, a sour expression replaces my happy face. She’s glowing, hurrying her steps to make it to him faster. She’s near-on perfect, just like the rest of them, all shiny hair, flawless make-up, and expensive clothes. I’m bracing myself for another reality check. I immediately hate her.
‘How are you?’ she sings at him, not giving me a second glance. No, her attention is rooted on my perfect Miller. ‘You look as dashing as always.’
‘Bethany,’ Miller greets, flat and cold, all evidence of the ease that was delighting me disappearing in a flash of red lips and perfectly styled hair. ‘I’m very well, thank you. Yourself?’
She pouts her lips and transfers her weight onto one hip, tilting her body to the side. Her body language is throwing off vibes of attraction left, right, and full-force centre. ‘Always well, you know that.’
I roll my eyes and bite my tongue, wilting on the inside. Another one. Now she just needs to spot me and finish me off with one of those looks or the delivery of some mocking words. And if she pulls out one of his cards, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.
‘Excellent,’ he replies, short and sharp, despite being perfectly polite. I can sense his restlessness, all of the signs of Miller and his need to repel people surfacing, and it’s in this moment that I wonder why these women are so taken by him when he can be so hostile. He’s a perfect gentleman on dates – he said so himself – but what’s the pull beyond that? How would they respond to him if he were to bless them with his worshipping ways? I inwardly laugh. They’d be like me. Non-functioning without him. Doomed. Dead.
Miller clears his throat and shifts the clothes in his hands. ‘We’ll be on our way,’ he says, sidestepping Bethany, obviously expecting me to follow, but when I feel a pair of inquisitive eyes land on me, I’m unable to convince my legs to move. Here it comes.
‘Oh,’ she breathes, running interested eyes down the full length of me. ‘Looks like someone beat me to him today.’ My mouth drops open and she smiles, clearly unperturbed by my affronted state. ‘I’m sorry, you are?’
I’m going to tell her exactly who I am. Accept it or learn to deal with it better. Those are my options. I have sass, that’s been confirmed, and I need to start using it wisely. This woman, just like the rest of them, makes me feel inferior, yet Miller isn’t showing signs of anger at the potential of this woman driving a wedge between us or making me doubt my worthiness. ‘Hi, I’m Oli—’
‘Sorry, we’re late,’ Miller cuts me off, just when I’ve located my sass and am about to unleash it. ‘Always a pleasure.’ He nods at Bethany, who now looks really interested, and gently pushes into my back rather than take his customary hold of my neck.
‘Oh, it is,’ Bethany purrs. The rigidity that dominates Miller’s entire being is instant. ‘Hope to see you soon.’
I’m pushed away fast, both of us silent, the tension palpable. Always a pleasure. I bristle on the inside and out. We round a corner, arriving at the men’s shoe department, and Miller immediately grabs the first pair in sight and presents them to me. I don’t look. Bethany has undone all of our progress this morning. ‘These?’ He’s desperately trying to divert me. It won’t work. The sass I was about to hit that woman with is now bubbling, a bit of anger mixing in for good measure, and there’s only one other person to release it on.
I bat the shoes away. ‘No.’
He recoils, eyes wide and perfect lips slightly agape. ‘I beg your pardon?’
My eyes narrow into angry slits. ‘Don’t start with the begging,’ I warn. ‘She was a client. Could she be following me?’
‘No.’ He almost laughs.
