I have no fear. None at all. I slowly return my attention to Miller, but I gasp when my hand is suddenly seized. Not by her hand, though. Pain sears through my flesh and I look down to see the leather of her sick weapon wrapped around my burning wrist.

‘Move away,’ she repeats, yanking at the whip and hauling me towards her. I cry out in pain, realising quickly that I’m getting way out of my depth. She’s not going to give him up.

‘You move away, Ekaterina.’

My head whips up at the sound of my mother’s voice, and I find her at the doorway, heaving, taking a moment to assess the situation. She looks angry, her stance wide, her eyes flicking from me to Miller before settling on the sick bitch who’s attached to me by a whip. My mother’s face is twisted with contempt.

And she has a gun in her hand.

I’m struck dumb, my eyes rooted on the weapon pointing right at the Russian.

I only have to wait a few seconds before the constricting leather releases from my wrist, and I begin rubbing the pain away on a wince.

‘Gracie Taylor,’ she muses, smiling. ‘I’m going to pretend you haven’t got a gun pointing at my head.’ Her accent sounds hypnotising and calm.

‘You do that.’ Gracie steps forward. ‘Then ring your brother and tell him Charlie hasn’t delivered.’

Perfectly threaded eyebrows arch in surprise. ‘Why would I do that?’

‘The deal Charlie and your dear brother struck is void. Miller doesn’t belong to Charlie anymore, Ekaterina. He’s not Charlie’s to give. Look at him. Does he look willing to you? Charlie did that. I’m sure that’s not what you were anticipating after everything you’ve heard about the Special One.’ My mum’s lips curl, showing a hardness in her I haven’t yet seen. ‘I know you don’t want to tarnish your formidable reputation with the label “rapist”, Ekaterina.’

She drops her whip and casts a look over to Miller, pouting, before returning her attention to my mother. ‘I like to hear them begging me to stop.’ She looks slighted as she slowly wanders over to Gracie, who lowers the gun cautiously. ‘And you say Charlie Anderson did this to him? Drugged him? Made him utterly useless to me?’

‘Do you want it in blood?’

‘Yes,’ she sneers, looking my mother up and down. ‘Charlie’s blood.’ She’s serious. ‘I think I’ll call my brother. He doesn’t like it when I’m upset.’

‘No one likes it when you are upset, Ekaterina.’

‘Very true.’ She almost laughs as she turns a filthy look on me. ‘She looks like you, Gracie. Maybe you could teach her some manners.’

‘Her manners are just fine in the right company,’ she retorts, making Ekaterina smile coldly at my mother’s front. ‘Charlie’s in the drawing room. William has left him breathing for you. Think of it as a thank-you from my daughter.’

She smiles, nodding agreeably. ‘You have a brave girl, Gracie. Maybe too brave.’ I can see the pleasure filling her immoral bones at the mere thought of revenge. ‘I am grateful for your gift.’ Her accent rolls beautifully, despite the violent edge to her tone. ‘Goodbye, Gracie.’ She sashays out of the room, her hips swaying seductively as she drags the whip behind her.

Gracie lets out an audible breath of relief, the gun dropping to the floor, and as soon as the Russian is out of sight, I go straight to Miller, grabbing a towel from the bed on my way. My heart cracks as I wrap the towel around his waist and make quick work of releasing his arms, leaving him falling towards me fast. The best I can do is fold to the floor with him, breaking his fall.

Through his spaced-out state, he manages to cling on to me, and we remain locked together on the floor forever, him mumbling confused words, me humming softly in his ear.

‘I’ll never stop loving you, Miller Hart,’ I whisper, kissing his ear gently and breathing him into me. ‘It’s over.’

I know he hasn’t the capability to utter any words in his current state, but he speaks to me perfectly clearly when he drags his arm from around my back and takes his hand to my tummy. Then he starts circling softly with his heavy palm until I’m certain our baby replies to his touch. A pop of bubbles flutters in my stomach.

‘My baby,’ he whispers.

I’m disturbed from my contentment by my mother’s hand on my shoulder. The heat spreads across my skin and travels directly into my heart, forcing me to break away from Miller, confused, because I know the source of the comfort isn’t him. It’s an added ease, and when I peel my lids open, my eyes find Gracie kneeling before us, mildly smiling. ‘Are you ready to take him home, baby?’ she asks, stroking my arm comfortingly.

I nod, hating having to disturb Miller in my arms but eager to take him away from here. ‘Miller?’ I whisper, gently nudging him, but he doesn’t respond, leaving me looking up to Gracie for help.

My attention is pulled to the door when William strides in. I can’t retain my shock. My eyes widen as they take in his dishevelled state – his grey hair mussed up, his suit all creased. He’s flexing his hand and his anger’s still so very apparent. There’s only a slight blemish to his jaw, but I get the feeling Charlie isn’t in such great shape.

‘We need to get out of here,’ he mutters, assessing what he’s walked in on.

‘Miller can’t walk.’ My throat is almost too tight with grief to speak.

With calm, efficient movements, William strides across the room and hauls Miller into his arms, nodding to Gracie in a silent gesture to help me up, which she does quickly, sensing his silent urgency, despite his calmness.

‘I’m good.’ Miller’s scratchy voice breaks through my worry, and I snap my head up to see him wrestling his way out of William’s hold. ‘For fuck’s sake, let go of me.’

Relief makes me dizzy as I watch him find his feet and then swipe at his hair repeatedly in an attempt to restore his messier than usual waves back to just messy. He pulls the towel in and glances up, hitting me with eyes that are way wider than normal, the black of his pupils nearly cancelling out the blue. They are still very piercing, despite the dilation. I keep still under his intense stare, letting him take me in for a while, refresh his memory of me, until he nods lazily, then follows it up with a drawn out blink of his eyes.

‘What’s going on?’

He’ll hate this. He’s the centre of attention, half-naked and vulnerable.

‘You were drugged. We can explain more later,’ William tells him, not so calmly now. ‘We need to get out of here.’

It doesn’t feel like there’s much air in this posh suite, but after William’s statement, there’s none. Miller’s already wide eyes have just expanded, almost popping from his head. He doesn’t speak, just stands quietly absorbing the news, his jaw ticking violently. I think myself sadistic for wanting to desperately know what’s running through his mind. ‘Where’s Charlie?’ His deadly tone tells me it’s murder.

William steps forward, holding Miller’s glazed eyes with harsh grey. ‘It’s over, Miller. Walk away a free man, no blood on your hands, no guilt on your conscience.’

‘There would be no guilt,’ he seethes. ‘None.’