Unveiled

The coolness of the carpet on my cheek is welcome as I watch Miller fall to his back next to me, his arms falling limply above his head, his chest expanding violently. He’s soaking wet, the taut flesh of his chest glistening from sweat. If I had the energy, I’d reach over and stroke him, but I’m useless. Completely incapacitated. But not enough to close my eyes and deprive them of the stunning sight of Miller post-climax.

We both remain sprawled across the carpet for an eternity. My ears are being invaded by consistent and drawn-out gasps of breath. Finally mustering some strength from somewhere, I drag my arm across the carpet and brush my fingertip down his side. It glides easily, assisted by the dampness of his hot skin. His head drops to the side until his eyes find mine and exhaustion runs away, leaving behind some scope for talking. But he beats me to it.

‘I love you, Olivia Taylor.’

I smile and put all of my effort into crawling on top of him, settling my body all over his, sinking my face into the comfort of his neck. ‘And I’m quite fascinated by you, too, Miller Hart.’

Chapter 14

‘Let’s see, then.’ He’s waiting on the pavement outside the salon, and I can tell he’s extremely anxious. He’s fidgety, looking unreasonably stressed by the potential of my new haircut. I was delivered to the salon with strict instructions to trim minimal amounts, although Miller took it upon himself to reiterate those instructions to the hairdresser and only left when I forced him to, seeing how nervous he was making her feel with his curt orders. Miller watching over her probably would have landed me with something worse than I already had. My once long, wild waves are now smooth and glossy and bouncing just below my shoulders. Bloody hell, even I’m nervous. I reach up and run my fingers through them, thinking how silky they feel, while Miller regards me carefully. I wait. And wait. Until I blow out my exasperation on an impatient exhale.

‘Say something!’ I order, hating the scrutiny I’m under. It’s not rare for him to study me so closely, but the intensity isn’t welcome right now. ‘Don’t you like it?’

He slips his hands into the trouser pockets of his suit, thinking hard. Then he closes the distance between us and drops his face into my neck as soon as he makes it to me. I tense. I can’t help it, except it’s not his closeness. It’s his quietness. After a long inhale, he speaks. ‘I don’t need to tell you that I was a little worried about the potential of losing any more.’

I huff a cynical burst of laughter at his understatement. ‘A little?’

He pulls away and hums thoughtfully. ‘I sense sarcasm.’

‘Your senses work well.’

He gives me a wicked smile and moves in, locking his arm around my neck and pulling me in. ‘I love it.’

‘You do?’ I’m stunned. Is he lying?

‘I really do.’ Pushing his lips to my head, he takes another long inhale. ‘It’ll look even better when it’s all mussed up and damp.’ His fingers thread through and grip hard, pulling at my scalp. ‘Perfect.’

It’s silly how relieved I am. Really silly. ‘I’m glad you like it, although if you didn’t, I’d have something to say. She followed your instructions to the word.’

‘I should hope so.’

‘You made her nervous.’

‘I was entrusting my most treasured possession to her. She should be nervous.’

‘My hair is my possession.’

‘Wrong,’ he counters quickly and confidently.

I roll my eyes at his impertinence but refrain from challenging him. ‘Where to now?’ I ask, taking his wrist to check the time. ‘We’re too early for Nan.’

‘Now we have to pay someone a visit.’ He clasps my neck and leads me towards his Mercedes. Worry grips me. I don’t like the sound of that.

‘Who?’

Miller turns an almost apologetic expression onto me as I look up at him. ‘I’ll give you three guesses.’

Everything deflates. I don’t need three. ‘William,’ I sigh.

‘Correct.’ He doesn’t give me an opportunity to object. I’m guided into his car and the door shuts firmly before he strides around the front and gets in. ‘I really do love your hair,’ he says softly as he settles in his seat, like he’s trying to pacify me . . . ease me.

My focus remains straight ahead as I weigh up the merits of doing a bunk. I don’t want to see William. I don’t want to face his disapproval, his smug arrogance. Miller knows it, and he doesn’t make me do things that he knows I don’t want to do. Yet I fear on this occasion his promise will be broken. It doesn’t stop me from trying, though. ‘I don’t want to come.’ I turn to look at him, finding thoughtfulness riddling his face.

‘Tough luck,’ he whispers as he starts the car and pulls away, leaving me gulping down courage.

Miller has come to depend on William for information. I know Miller doesn’t like it, and I know William doesn’t like it. I definitely don’t like it. But regrettably, it seems none of us has a choice. My eyes close and remain that way during the entire journey. Neither of us speak, the silence cutting the close air around us. It’s awkward. It’s painful. And it makes the drive drag out forever.

When we’ve reached our destination, I can sense Miller’s tension. The atmosphere seems to freeze, sending every muscle in my body rigid. They’re not even within sight of each other yet, but all of the invisible animosity is already rife. It’s making my skin prickle and my pulse quicken. I feel like I’m walking willingly into the lion’s den with a steak strapped to my chest.