Unveiled (One Night 3)

I clamp my lips together, loving him more for knowing me so well but hating that it means I’ll probably never be able to hide anything from him. I also hate that he feels so obviously guilty for dragging me into his world.

‘Tell me, Olivia.’ His tone is soft, encouraging. It’s desperate.

My eyes drop to his feet, seeing them move in closer. ‘I’m being silly,’ I say quietly. ‘I think all of the shock and adrenaline was playing games with my mind.’

He shifts his hands to my waist and lifts me down, making me sit on the edge of the fountain. Then he lowers to his knees and secures my cheeks in his hands. ‘Tell me,’ he whispers.

His need to comfort me fills me with the courage to spit out what’s been tormenting me since we’ve been here. ‘At Heathrow . . . I thought I saw something, but I know I didn’t, and I know it’s stupid and impossible and absolutely absurd, and my vision was obstructed and I was so stressed and tired and emotional.’ I draw a breath, ignoring his wide eyes. ‘It couldn’t have been. I know that. I mean, she’s been dead for—’

‘Olivia!’ Miller breaks through my verbal vomit, his blue eyes wide and with a look of alarm on his perfect face. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘My mother,’ I breathe. ‘I think I saw her.’

‘Her ghost?’

I’m not sure if I believe in ghosts. Or maybe I do now. With no obvious answer, I just shrug.

‘At Heathrow?’ he pushes.

I nod.

‘When you were exhausted, emotional, and being kidnapped by an ex-escort with a terrible temper?’

My eyes narrow on him. ‘Yes,’ I push through clenched teeth.

‘I see,’ he muses, glancing away briefly before returning his eyes to mine. ‘And this is why you’ve been so quiet and cagey?’

‘I realise how stupid I sound.’

‘Not stupid,’ he argues quietly. ‘Grief-stricken.’

I frown at him, but he continues before I can question his conclusion.

‘Olivia, we’ve been through so much. Both of our pasts have been very much present in recent weeks. It’s understandable that you’d be feeling lost and confused.’ He reaches forward and rests his lips on mine. ‘Please confide in me. Don’t let your troubles weigh you down when I’m here to ease them for you.’ Pulling away, he smoothes his thumbs across my cheeks and melts me with the sincerity that’s shining from his extraordinary eyes. ‘I can’t see you sad.’

I suddenly feel so very stupid, and with nothing left to say, I close my arms around his shoulders and pull him into me. He’s right. It’s no wonder my mind’s a jumbled mess after everything we’ve been through. ‘I don’t know where I’d be without you.’

Accepting my fierce embrace, he inhales into my hair. I feel him locate a lock and start to twist it around his fingers. ‘You’d be in London living a carefree life,’ he muses quietly.

His sombre statement pulls me from the warmth of his body immediately. I didn’t like the words and I definitely didn’t like the tone. ‘Living a hollow life,’ I counter. ‘Promise you’ll never abandon me.’

‘I promise.’ He says it without a second’s hesitation, yet right now it doesn’t feel like enough. I’m not sure what else I can make him say that will convince me. A bit like his acceptance of my love. That wavering is still showing signs and I don’t like it. A repeat of him leaving, even if he didn’t want to, is still something I live in fear of.

‘I want a contract,’ I blurt. ‘Something legal that says you can’t ever leave me.’ I realise my stupidly in an instant and I cringe, slapping myself all over Central Park. ‘That came out all wrong.’

‘I hope so!’ He coughs, almost falling to his arse in shock. I might not have meant that the way it sounded, but his clear disgust is like a slap in the face. I haven’t given a second thought to marriage, or anything beyond today. There’s too much shit blocking dreams of futures and happiness, but now I’m really thinking. His clear abhorrence to the idea is making it hard not to. I want to get married one day. I want the kids, the dog, and the cosy family house. I want mess everywhere from children running riot, and I know in this moment that I want it all with Miller.

Then reality crashes down on me. He obviously finds marriage unspeakable. He hates mess, which puts my chaotic family home right out of the picture. And as for the children? Well, I’m not going to ask and I don’t think I need to, because I remember that photograph of a lost, grubby little boy.

‘We should go,’ I say, standing to meet him before I say anything else stupid and have to face another unwanted reaction. ‘I’m tired.’

‘I concur.’ The relief rolls off him in waves. It doesn’t help my despondency. Or my hopes for our future . . . once we can finally focus on our happily-ever-after.

Chapter 3

Things have been awkward and tense since we left Central Park. Miller left me to entertain myself when we got back to the suite, choosing to disappear into the office space that leads off the balcony. He had some business to see to. It’s not unusual for him to take an hour to make his calls, but it’s now been four hours, with no word, appearance, or indication that he’s still alive in there.

I’m on the balcony, the sun warm on my face, and I recline back on the lounger, silently willing Miller to emerge from the study. We haven’t gone this long without some kind of physical contact since we’ve been in New York, and I’m craving his touch. I was dying to escape the tense vibes when we returned from our stroll, was quietly relieved when he muttered his intention to deal with some business, but now I’m feeling more lost than ever. I’ve called Nan and Gregory and chatted idly about nothing in particular, and I’ve read half of the history book that Miller bought me yesterday, not that I can recall any of the information.