Denied
Page 99
William turns slowly and swirls the dark liquid in the glass before sniffing it and giving a sharp nod of approval. I feel Miller’s hackles rise and I know William feels it, too, even from across the room. But he ignores it. He’s goading him. He knows about Miller’s OCD. ‘Miller called me,’ William states matter-of-factly.
‘He did?’ I blurt, escaping Miller’s hold and swinging around to face him. He invited William to interfere?
Miller’s nostrils flare and he nails me in place with annoyance. ‘I thought you’d been abducted.’
‘You thought I’d been kidnapped?’ I press. ‘By Sophia?’ Why the hell would she do that? And why did he call William? Miller hates him, and I know the feeling is totally mutual.
His face is poker straight, but those eyes are still exuding pure, raw fear. ‘Yes.’
I’m robbed of words.
And breath.
Then something hits me like a bullet to my temple. ‘You told William about my shadow?’ I brace myself for Miller’s answer, even though I know for sure what it’ll be.
He nods. The urge to reach up and free my neck of the invisible noose is too much, and I find myself feeling around my throat, prompting Miller to move in and take my frantic hands.
‘Olivia?’ William’s silky voice, which is still laced with antagonism, pulls my attention across the room. ‘When I say I’ll pick you up at a certain time from a certain place, I expect you to be there. When I call, I expect you to answer.’
It takes every ounce of my remaining patience and strength not to drop my head back in exasperation, but even with the lack of visual disrespect, William still picks up on my impudence. I don’t care, especially not now. ‘I’m not a f**king child,’ I hiss, my fists balling in Miller’s grasp. I yank myself free and spin away from him. Anxiety is being washed away with the tirade of shitty newsflashes that I’m being assaulted with.
‘You should have listened,’ Miller says softly from behind me, making me swing back around. I’m getting dizzy from all this shocked spinning.
‘What?’ I yell. I can tell from his steely gaze and the reluctance of his tone that it kills him to admit that.
His arms are hanging limply by his sides, his wide shoulders slumped, his stance threatening but yielding all at once. I don’t know what to make of this. ‘If Anderson makes a request, Livy, you should listen.’
Just when I thought nothing else could stun me, he says that? ‘He wanted to pick me up. I was with you! And I should listen? Like I should have listened to him when he was telling me continuously to walk away from you?’
Miller’s eyes turn vicious and flick to William across the room. ‘Never listen when he tells you that,’ he seethes.
My head falls back and I look to the heavens for help, wondering who and what I should be listening to. ‘Why do you think Sophia would kidnap me?’ I can’t believe the questions falling from my mouth. I know I need sass to survive Miller Hart, but not a black belt or . . . I gasp, realisation sucker- punching me. ‘Self-defence.’
‘It’s a necessity.’
‘In case one of your jealous whores tries to abduct me?!’
‘Olivia!’ Miller yells, enraged, making my mouth snap shut, startled.
Gregory is suddenly in my line of sight, and I focus on him for a moment, finding his mouth agape, his eyes full of alarm. ‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing,’ he splutters. ‘Are we on the set of The Godfather?’
I close my eyes and shift to the sofa, letting my backside fall in exhaustion to the squidgy cushion. ‘But she didn’t hold me against my will.’ I inhale, searching for sensible questions in a mind awash with craziness. ‘Getting caught up with me will be your demise.’ I look up at him. ‘That’s what she said.’ And while I previously appreciated the absurdity of the warning, Miller’s straight face and telling eyes now make me appreciate the reality. I sit up and swallow hard, not wanting to ask the question tickling the end of my tongue. ‘Was she . . . did she . . . is it tr . . .’ I pause and collect the words together in my mind and let them tumble out on an apprehensive whisper. ‘Is she right?’
Miller nods, blowing my already crumbling world apart. The fear that was lost to shock and anger resurfaces and immobilises me. My stomach turns. I hear Gregory gasp. I feel Miller stiffen. And I sense William’s . . . sadness.
Sophia knows the consequences if Miller quits? He’s shackled, and not just by the women relishing in his sick web of hedonism. I feel ill. His demise? Who are these people?
The sound of a mobile phone pierces the heavy atmosphere and William wastes no time answering it. He looks regretful as he speaks quietly to the caller, and his refined, grey-suited body is shifting uncomfortably on the spot. ‘Two minutes,’ he says tightly before hanging up and penetrating me with his silver gaze. It’s full of sorrow. My stomach turns. ‘Take her and go,’ he murmurs as he watches me. ‘Now.’
My brow wrinkles in confusion, and I stand, throwing my eyes to Miller. He’s nodding in understanding. ‘What’s going on?’ I ask, not knowing how much more I can take.
Miller approaches me and slides his palm around my neck, resorting to his tactics of calmly massaging my nape. I’d shrug him off, but I can’t possibly move. He turns to William. ‘Do you have the package?’
William reaches into his inside pocket and pulls out a brown envelope. He’s thoughtful for a few seconds before he hands it to Miller, who shoves it under his arm and reaches in, pulling out two passports and a pile of paperwork. He uses his mouth to open one of the burgundy books to the photo page and runs his eyes over it. It’s me. I choke on nothing, unable to speak as I watch him check the next, seeing a shot of him this time.
‘You’d better go,’ William presses, glancing down at his watch.
‘Watch her.’ Miller releases me and jogs off towards his bedroom, leaving me to continue choking on my panicked breaths. I’m suffocating, a cruel world closing in on me and sending my life into mayhem.
‘What’s going on?’ I finally ask, my voice matching my body in the shakes department.
‘You’re leaving,’ William answers simply and swiftly, now detached, all emotion long gone.
‘I don’t have a passport.’
‘You do now.’
‘It’s fake? Why would you have a fake passport for me?’ And where would he get one? I almost laugh to myself, but a lack of energy prevents it. This is William Anderson. There’s no limit to his capabilities. I should know that.
He approaches me carefully, one hand resting in his pocket, the other holding his tumbler of Scotch. ‘Because, Olivia, from the moment I discovered your involvement with Miller Hart, I knew this would be the end result. I didn’t intervene to be difficult.’
‘What would be the end result? What’s happening?’ Why are people talking in code?
William seems to consider something for a moment before he looks down at me with sympathy filling his wonderful greys. He knows everything about Miller’s darkness. Restraints and a bad temper aren’t the only reasons William has been so persistent in his endeavours to keep me away from Miller. It’s all so clear. He knows the consequences of our relationship, too. He smiles a little, taking my cheek in his palm and smoothing the pad of his thumb across my cold flesh. ‘Maybe I should have done this with Gracie,’ he says quietly, almost to himself, reminiscence rife on his distinguished face. ‘Maybe I should have taken her away from the horrors. Taken her away from this.’
‘He did?’ I blurt, escaping Miller’s hold and swinging around to face him. He invited William to interfere?
Miller’s nostrils flare and he nails me in place with annoyance. ‘I thought you’d been abducted.’
‘You thought I’d been kidnapped?’ I press. ‘By Sophia?’ Why the hell would she do that? And why did he call William? Miller hates him, and I know the feeling is totally mutual.
His face is poker straight, but those eyes are still exuding pure, raw fear. ‘Yes.’
I’m robbed of words.
And breath.
Then something hits me like a bullet to my temple. ‘You told William about my shadow?’ I brace myself for Miller’s answer, even though I know for sure what it’ll be.
He nods. The urge to reach up and free my neck of the invisible noose is too much, and I find myself feeling around my throat, prompting Miller to move in and take my frantic hands.
‘Olivia?’ William’s silky voice, which is still laced with antagonism, pulls my attention across the room. ‘When I say I’ll pick you up at a certain time from a certain place, I expect you to be there. When I call, I expect you to answer.’
It takes every ounce of my remaining patience and strength not to drop my head back in exasperation, but even with the lack of visual disrespect, William still picks up on my impudence. I don’t care, especially not now. ‘I’m not a f**king child,’ I hiss, my fists balling in Miller’s grasp. I yank myself free and spin away from him. Anxiety is being washed away with the tirade of shitty newsflashes that I’m being assaulted with.
‘You should have listened,’ Miller says softly from behind me, making me swing back around. I’m getting dizzy from all this shocked spinning.
‘What?’ I yell. I can tell from his steely gaze and the reluctance of his tone that it kills him to admit that.
His arms are hanging limply by his sides, his wide shoulders slumped, his stance threatening but yielding all at once. I don’t know what to make of this. ‘If Anderson makes a request, Livy, you should listen.’
Just when I thought nothing else could stun me, he says that? ‘He wanted to pick me up. I was with you! And I should listen? Like I should have listened to him when he was telling me continuously to walk away from you?’
Miller’s eyes turn vicious and flick to William across the room. ‘Never listen when he tells you that,’ he seethes.
My head falls back and I look to the heavens for help, wondering who and what I should be listening to. ‘Why do you think Sophia would kidnap me?’ I can’t believe the questions falling from my mouth. I know I need sass to survive Miller Hart, but not a black belt or . . . I gasp, realisation sucker- punching me. ‘Self-defence.’
‘It’s a necessity.’
‘In case one of your jealous whores tries to abduct me?!’
‘Olivia!’ Miller yells, enraged, making my mouth snap shut, startled.
Gregory is suddenly in my line of sight, and I focus on him for a moment, finding his mouth agape, his eyes full of alarm. ‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing,’ he splutters. ‘Are we on the set of The Godfather?’
I close my eyes and shift to the sofa, letting my backside fall in exhaustion to the squidgy cushion. ‘But she didn’t hold me against my will.’ I inhale, searching for sensible questions in a mind awash with craziness. ‘Getting caught up with me will be your demise.’ I look up at him. ‘That’s what she said.’ And while I previously appreciated the absurdity of the warning, Miller’s straight face and telling eyes now make me appreciate the reality. I sit up and swallow hard, not wanting to ask the question tickling the end of my tongue. ‘Was she . . . did she . . . is it tr . . .’ I pause and collect the words together in my mind and let them tumble out on an apprehensive whisper. ‘Is she right?’
Miller nods, blowing my already crumbling world apart. The fear that was lost to shock and anger resurfaces and immobilises me. My stomach turns. I hear Gregory gasp. I feel Miller stiffen. And I sense William’s . . . sadness.
Sophia knows the consequences if Miller quits? He’s shackled, and not just by the women relishing in his sick web of hedonism. I feel ill. His demise? Who are these people?
The sound of a mobile phone pierces the heavy atmosphere and William wastes no time answering it. He looks regretful as he speaks quietly to the caller, and his refined, grey-suited body is shifting uncomfortably on the spot. ‘Two minutes,’ he says tightly before hanging up and penetrating me with his silver gaze. It’s full of sorrow. My stomach turns. ‘Take her and go,’ he murmurs as he watches me. ‘Now.’
My brow wrinkles in confusion, and I stand, throwing my eyes to Miller. He’s nodding in understanding. ‘What’s going on?’ I ask, not knowing how much more I can take.
Miller approaches me and slides his palm around my neck, resorting to his tactics of calmly massaging my nape. I’d shrug him off, but I can’t possibly move. He turns to William. ‘Do you have the package?’
William reaches into his inside pocket and pulls out a brown envelope. He’s thoughtful for a few seconds before he hands it to Miller, who shoves it under his arm and reaches in, pulling out two passports and a pile of paperwork. He uses his mouth to open one of the burgundy books to the photo page and runs his eyes over it. It’s me. I choke on nothing, unable to speak as I watch him check the next, seeing a shot of him this time.
‘You’d better go,’ William presses, glancing down at his watch.
‘Watch her.’ Miller releases me and jogs off towards his bedroom, leaving me to continue choking on my panicked breaths. I’m suffocating, a cruel world closing in on me and sending my life into mayhem.
‘What’s going on?’ I finally ask, my voice matching my body in the shakes department.
‘You’re leaving,’ William answers simply and swiftly, now detached, all emotion long gone.
‘I don’t have a passport.’
‘You do now.’
‘It’s fake? Why would you have a fake passport for me?’ And where would he get one? I almost laugh to myself, but a lack of energy prevents it. This is William Anderson. There’s no limit to his capabilities. I should know that.
He approaches me carefully, one hand resting in his pocket, the other holding his tumbler of Scotch. ‘Because, Olivia, from the moment I discovered your involvement with Miller Hart, I knew this would be the end result. I didn’t intervene to be difficult.’
‘What would be the end result? What’s happening?’ Why are people talking in code?
William seems to consider something for a moment before he looks down at me with sympathy filling his wonderful greys. He knows everything about Miller’s darkness. Restraints and a bad temper aren’t the only reasons William has been so persistent in his endeavours to keep me away from Miller. It’s all so clear. He knows the consequences of our relationship, too. He smiles a little, taking my cheek in his palm and smoothing the pad of his thumb across my cold flesh. ‘Maybe I should have done this with Gracie,’ he says quietly, almost to himself, reminiscence rife on his distinguished face. ‘Maybe I should have taken her away from the horrors. Taken her away from this.’
