My head begins to pound mildly with the building of all of those questions I’ve tossed aside too easily. Miller is answerable to a man named Charlie. I can only imagine what type of character he is if Miller fears him. ‘He’ll hurt you?’

‘I make a lot of money for him, Olivia. Don’t think I’m afraid of him. I’m not.’

‘Then why did we run?’

‘Because I need time to breathe – to think about the best way to handle this. I told you before, it’s not as easy as just quitting. I asked you to trust me while I figured this out.’

‘And have you?’

‘William has bought me some time.’

‘How?’

‘He told Charlie that he and I had crossed. That he was looking for me.’

My brow meets in the middle. ‘William told Charlie you pissed him off?’

‘He had to justify why he was in my flat. William and Charlie aren’t exactly pals, and neither are William and I. You might have guessed.’ He’s being ironic, and I huff my acknowledgement. ‘Charlie mustn’t know about my association with William. It’ll give William a headache. I don’t like him, but I wouldn’t wish a pissed off Charlie on him, no matter how capable he is of taking care of himself.’

My poor mind spirals into meltdown again. ‘Where does that leave us?’ My voice is hardly decipherable through my fear of what the answer might be.

‘Anderson thinks it’s best if I return to London. I disagree.’

I sag, relieved. I’m not going back to London if he has to hide me, if he has to continue entertaining these women until he finds an out.

He squeezes me reassuringly, like he knows what I’m thinking. ‘I’m going nowhere until I’m certain there’s no danger to you.’

Danger? ‘Do you know who followed me?’

The brief silence that falls and screams as a result of my question doesn’t curb my growing trepidation. He just looks at me as the gravity of our situation grips me in its vicious claws. ‘Was it Charlie?’

He nods slowly and the ground tumbles away beneath me. ‘He knows you are why I quit.’

He must feel the panic flaring because he drops the brush and turns me around, helping to make me comfy on his lap. I’m locked in his thing, but today it doesn’t make me feel better. ‘Shhh,’ he soothes me pointlessly. ‘Trust me to deal with this.’

‘What other option do I have?’ I ask. This isn’t a multiple-choice quiz. There is only one answer.

I have no choice.

Chapter 5

Miller spent the rest of the day humouring me, riding the open-top hop-on-hop-off tour bus around New York City. He smiled fondly when I ignored the tour guide, choosing to give him my own rundown of the sights we saw. He listened with interest and even asked me questions that I was quick to answer. He was relaxed when we hopped off to take a wander, and he was willing when I dragged him into a typical deli. The fast pace in which everything is carried out here was a little intimidating when we first arrived, but I’m getting to grips with it now. I ordered fast and paid faster. Then we walked and ate, something else new to Miller. He was awkward but didn’t complain. I was delighted but restrained all evidence, like this is us every day.

The early morning drama, coupled with our hours of exploring, left me physically unable to hold myself up by the time we make it back to the penthouse. Facing twelve flights of stairs nearly finishes me off, and rather than confronting his fear and utilising the lift, he scoops me up and takes the stairs with my exhausted body draped across his arms. I enjoy the closeness, as usual, only just mustering the energy to cling to him. I can still feel and smell, even if my heavy eyes refuse to remain open. His firmness against me and his signature scent drifting into my nose takes me off to a dreamland to rival the best of dreams.

‘I’d love to bury myself inside you right now,’ he murmurs, his low, sex-filled timbre pulling my lids open as he lowers me to the bed.

‘OK.’ My agreement is quick but sleepy. My green Converse are pulled from each foot and set neatly to the side. I only know it’s neatly because of the time it takes for him to return to undressing me. He’s in a tidying mood, as well as a worshipping mood. My denim shorts are unfastened and dragged down my legs.

‘You’re too tired, sweet girl.’ My shorts are folded and placed with my shoes. I can’t locate even the tiniest piece of strength to protest, telling me he’s one hundred per cent correct. I’m useless.

He lifts me briefly to pull the covers back, then settles me neatly on the mattress. ‘Arms in the air.’ He gives me a hint of that cheeky smile before his face disappears, being replaced with the material of my top. My arms only rise because of him lifting my T-shirt and forcing them up, and as soon as I’m free from my bra and knickers, I fall to my back on a sigh and roll onto my front, snuggling down. The heat of his mouth presses into my shoulder for the longest time. ‘Take me into your perfect dreams, Olivia Taylor.’

I can’t show my agreement, can’t even voice my assurance that I will. Sleep claims me and the last thing I hear is the familiar sound of Miller humming.

My dreams were sweet, and Miller was there in all of his perfect, relaxed glory. I blink my eyes open, immediately confused by the darkness. I feel like I’ve been asleep for years. I feel re-energised and ready to take the day on . . . if it was morning. The mattress dips behind me and I feel Miller closing in on me. I want to say good morning, but I think I’m a bit premature. So I shuffle over instead to stick my front to Miller’s and push my face into the coarse hair at his throat. Then I inhale and wedge my knee between his thighs.

He accommodates my demand for intimacy, letting me shift and fidget all over him until I’m settled and breathing easy into him. It’s comfortably silent, until Miller starts humming “The Power of Love”, making me smile. ‘You hummed this to me one of the first times we were together.’ I press my lips to the hollow void below his Adam’s apple and suck briefly before trailing my tongue up to his chin.

‘Indeed I did,’ he agrees, letting me nibble at his bottom lip. ‘You threw my perfect world into total chaos.’

I’m prevented from giving my thoughts on that statement when he moves away and places me on my side before mirroring my new position. It’s dark, but I can see his face now that my eyes have adjusted.

And I don’t like what I see.

Pensiveness.

Concern.

‘What is it?’ I back up, my pulse beginning to quicken.

‘I need to tell you something.’

‘What?’ I blurt. I spin over and find the switch for the bedside lamp, and the room floods with a hazy light. I blink back the sudden attack on my eyes, then turn to seek Miller out again. I find him sitting up, his features fretful. ‘Tell me,’ I push.

‘Promise me you’ll hear me out.’ He takes my hands in his and squeezes. ‘Promise me you’ll let me finish before you fly into—’

‘Miller! Just tell me!’ The coldness settling over me accelerates my panic and fear.

His face seems to distort with pain. ‘It’s your grandmother.’

I lose my breath. ‘Oh my God. What’s happened? Is she OK?’ I try to shake Miller off and go in search of my phone, but I’m held in place by a firm grip.