“You are wanted, and you are staying.”
A raven haired, olive-skinned beauty strode toward them. She was dressed in a smart navy-blue suit—clearly designer—paired with a crisp white shirt, sheer nylons, and high-heeled shoes. Slung over her shoulder was a fashionable handbag in a deep crimson.
Millie glanced down at her own dress and then back up at the elegant woman before her.
“You must be Millie,” she said, greeting her with a warm, friendly smile that immediately put Millie at ease. “I’m Laurella.” She thrust a shopping bag at Calum. “Take that downstairs for me. Millie doesn’t need you crowding her on her first day.”
The Calum of old would have told Laurella to deal with her own damn bag. Instead, he took it from her without question and pressed a soft kiss to her temple.
“Looks like you’ve got two fans, Millie,” he said. “Lucky for you.”
Laurella rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a stronzo.”
When Calum chuckled, Laurella fixed him with a hard stare. “Are you still here?”
He raised his hands in the air. “I’m going, I’m going.”
“Good.” She turned her back on him. “Ah, here’s Marion to relieve you.” Laurella made brief introductions, then linked her arm through Millie’s and steered her into the bar area. “Let’s have a celebratory drink.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Millie said, thinking about her meager funds. She barely had money for food, let alone expensive cocktails. She’d seen the type of clientele The Miller-Brook attracted. No doubt that would translate to the price of the drinks.
“Nonsense,” Laurella said. She paused, her gaze searching Millie’s face. “It’s been a challenging day at work. I could do with a little female company before I have to spend my evening soothing Calum’s ego. Drinks on me, of course.”
Millie suppressed a relieved breath at Laurella’s offer to pay, even if guilt pricked at her conscience. “If you’re sure?”
Pulling out a bar stool, Laurella indicated for Millie to sit. “What would you like?”
It was the second time in three days she’d been asked what she wanted. She trawled through her mind, mentally scrabbling for the name of a fancy cocktail, or a sophisticated-sounding drink. Coming up empty, she went with, “A Coke.”
Laurella’s hand sliced through the air in dismissal. “No, no, no. That won’t do at all. It’s your first day at a new job. Let’s get a cocktail.” She peered through squinted eyes then. “Unless you don’t drink.”
“Oh, I drink,” Millie said, even though, apart from the one glass of wine she’d had with Cole, it had been more than two years since alcohol had passed her lips. Tanner’s birthday—he’d ordered champagne. She’d drunk more than was advisable. He’d been in an unusually good mood, and they’d staggered back home, laughing and joking, like in the early days of their relationship. Then she’d made a transgression of some sort—she’d never figured out what—and that was when the verbal abuse had started. The guilt trip; how she wasn’t good enough for him; how she’d put on weight; she was becoming unattractive; he didn’t know what he saw in her any more.
She’d plucked up the courage to speak out, telling him if he thought those things about her, then maybe she should leave. That way they’d both be happier. He’d thrown himself on the floor, begging her to stay. Shaking with what she now recognized as pure rage, he’d insisted it was shock and grief. He didn’t want to lose her. She meant everything to him, she was his world, and if she left him, he’d kill himself.
Oh yeah, Tanner wasn’t averse to the odd suicide threat, just to keep her in line. And guess what? It had worked. She’d apologized. Admitted it was all her fault. Told him, of course, she’d never leave him, how much she loved him.
As soon as she’d capitulated, Tanner had reassumed control, and nothing had changed.
“Millie?”
She dragged her thoughts back to the present at Laurella’s interjection. “Sorry, I’m thinking.”
“How about a Long Island Iced Tea? It’s so hot today. And it has Coke in it.”
Millie gave her a shy smile. “Okay.”
“Isa, cara, two Long Island Iced Teas.”
“Coming right up.”
Isa put down their drinks, condensation dripping down the sides of the glasses. Laurella picked them up and passed one to Millie, then clinked their glasses together. “Cheers.”
Millie grabbed a napkin and fiddled with the edges. When her fidgeting drew Laurella’s eye, she pushed the napkin away and took a sip of her drink. Her abdomen pulled and twisted. The woman sitting beside her was so confident, so well put together, so strong in the way she’d dealt with Calum—amplifying Millie’s weakness in her capitulation to Tanner—that Millie couldn’t help feeling a twinge of envy. By comparison, she had a canyon to cross, and without a rope or boat in sight, she wasn’t sure she’d ever reach the other side.
“I’m sorry about Calum. He can’t help himself.”
Millie grimaced. “He has every right to say as he pleases. This is his hotel.”
Laurella raised an eyebrow. “I couldn’t disagree more. I only caught the very end of the conversation, but what he said is not okay. Cole wants you here, and therefore, we all want you here.”
Millie bit the inside of her cheek and cast her eyes downward. A few seconds scraped by. To cover the awkward silence, she reached for her drink and took a tentative sip.
“I don’t mean to pry,” Laurella said as she placed her hand over Millie’s forearm. “I’m happy to listen if you want to talk.”
Millie sucked in her lips, wondering whether Cole had shared about her breakup with Tanner, or whether Laurella’s intuition had been alerted by Millie’s strange behavior. As much as she’d love to offload, she was far from ready. Not to mention a woman like Laurella, fearless and bold as a lioness, couldn’t possibly begin to understand how Millie had allowed Tanner to control and manipulate her until he’d crushed the very essence of her soul.
“There you are.”
Cole’s arrival saved Millie from answering Laurella. Just as well, because she wasn’t sure how to respond. He had a faint bruise across one cheekbone that definitely hadn’t been there that morning.
“What happened to you?” she said, pointing her chin in his direction.
He touched his fingertips to his face. “This? It’s nothing. A scuffle with a perp, that’s all.”
Laurella finished her drink and stood, accepting Cole’s kiss on the cheek. “I shall leave you to it. Welcome to the team, Millie. I’m sure you’ll fit in wonderfully.”
Millie thanked her as Cole slid onto the seat she’d vacated. He shook his head at Isa’s offer of a drink.
“How was your first day?” he asked.
A smile inched across her face. “Okay, I think. I enjoyed myself.”
“So, you’re going to stick around?”
“If you’ll have me.” And Calum doesn’t persuade you to let me go.
Her fingers prickled at his answering stare, so intense and hypnotic, and an alien but very welcome warmth spread through her body.
“I’ll have you,” he answered softly.
The intensity in his voice, the way he studied her as though he could see right inside sent tingles shooting up and down her spine.
She blinked once, twice. A third time. Was there a hidden meaning in those words? No, that was highly unlikely. Her judgment was shot to hell. He was referring to the job, that’s all. She shouldn’t be too surprised Cole had offered her a position at the hotel. Good, reliable staff were hard to find, and she hadn’t exactly kept secret how much she needed a job. People who needed the money made for conscientious employees.
“I should go,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”
Cole stood. “Can I see you home?”
No. She wasn’t ready to show him where she was living. She was more than a little embarrassed she’d fallen so far that her home consisted of one room in what could only be describ
ed as a hovel. Cole could find out her address easily enough of course from her employment forms, but she doubted he would. He had too much integrity to snoop.
She grabbed her purse. “I’m good. Maybe catch you tomorrow?”
He shrugged, his usually open expression becoming shuttered. “Sure. Maybe. Safe journey.”
She stepped into the lobby and risked a glance back at Cole. He was staring into space, pensive, his brows pulled in.
An ache she didn’t understand tightened her chest. She dragged her gaze away from the melancholy man sitting at the bar and left.
Chapter 7
Millie glanced at the clock. Five-thirty in the afternoon. Her first day working the front desk alone had gone better than she’d expected. She’d even managed to sound confident and perfectly in control when a client had asked her to make dinner reservations at a fancy restaurant. When they’d thanked her afterward, she’d beamed as a bolt of pride had clutched at her chest. She was doing it. Day by day, the shackles fell away from the broken girl, and she started to make tentative steps toward becoming a resolute and fearless woman.
She raised her head, pausing from answering an email query when she heard the clip-clopping of heels. She offered a bright smile, which wasn’t reciprocated. Instead, the woman who’d just arrived slapped her purse on top of the desk and scowled.
“I’ve got a reservation.”
Millie’s stomach shifted uncomfortably at the woman’s glowering expression, but she kept her smile in place. “Welcome to The Miller-Brook. What name is the reservation under, please?”
“Drummond. Mrs.”
“Thank you. One moment, please.”
Entering the name into the computer, she tried not to let her hands shake when the client began tapping her long, bright-red fingernails on top of the desk. So far, everyone she’d come into contact with had been polite and friendly. This was her first potentially awkward customer. You can do this. Stay calm.
She hit return.
No record found.
She tried again. Same response. She entered a couple of different spellings with no luck. The woman’s tapping increased in speed.
“How do you spell your surname, ma’am?”
Mrs. Drummond rolled her eyes. Millie’s knees trembled at the client’s growing impatience. She spelled out her name in a clipped voice. Damn. That’s exactly what Millie had entered the first time. She made another attempt which returned the same result. Panic welled up in her chest. The hotel was fully booked. If the system didn’t have a reservation for Mrs. Drummond, that meant they wouldn’t have a vacant room.
“Do you have your reservation reference, Mrs. Drummond?” Every booking generated a reference on the system. Maybe if she searched by that, the computer would return the correct record.
“For goodness’ sake, girl,” Mrs. Drummond responded, unzipping her purse. “You’ll be wanting me to do your job for you next. I do hope your incompetence doesn’t set an example for the rest of my stay. My personal assistant made this reservation weeks ago.”
Millie swallowed. Her tongue dampened her lips as Mrs. Drummond removed her cell phone. She tapped on it and turned the screen around. “There,” she snapped. “And hurry up about it.”
Millie peered at the screen and immediately recognized the problem. Mrs. Drummond wasn’t staying with them. The taxi driver must have dropped her off at the wrong address, and she hadn’t bothered to check she was at the right hotel.
“Well don’t just stand there gawking, girl. Show me to my room.”
“Is there a problem?”
Millie turned her head to find Cole had arrived home from work. He’d changed out of his cop uniform into an open-necked white shirt and dark jeans. A fluttering set off in her abdomen, like a collection of butterflies flapping their wings inside her midsection.
“It’s fi—”
“Who are you?” Mrs. Drummond cut right across her.
Cole held out his hand. “Cole Brook, ma’am. Co-owner. What seems to be the issue?”
“I was about to—”
“This silly girl can’t find my reservation.”
Millie stiffened her spine, although she kept her expression professional. There was no reservation. “Cole, I’ve got this,” she said, because she damn well did.
“Do you have your reservation number?” Cole said. “I’m sure it’s a computer glitch. Millie is very capable.”
Really? If you thought that then you’d back the hell off and let me deal with the situation.
“I’ve already given it to her,” Mrs. Drummond snapped.
“Okay, let me see what I can do,” Cole said, stepping around the reception desk. “I’m sure we can get this misunderstanding all straightened out in no time.”
Millie lifted her chin, her gaze cutting through Cole. “I was about to explain,” she stated, surprising herself with how calm and collected she sounded, because her insides were at boiling point. And not because of Mrs. Drummond’s rudeness—but because of Cole’s high-handed attitude. She turned her shoulder to the side, half blocking Cole’s view of the client. “Ma’am, you’re not booked in at this hotel. You’re at the Panorama. It’s one block over.”
Mrs. Drummond pressed her lips into a firm line. “What on earth are you talking about, young lady?”
“It’s on your email confirmation. The taxi driver has dropped you at the wrong location.”
Mrs. Drummond lifted her cell phone to eye level and squinted. And then she gave an exasperated sigh. “This city is turning into Hell on Earth.”
She snatched up her purse and grabbed her suitcase, muttering fire and damnation under her breath. She’d half turned away when she paused. “My apologies, young lady.”
“No problem at all, Mrs. Drummond.” And then a slice of inspiration hit her. The woman may be rude, but she reeked of money. “Can I give you one of our business cards? We’d love to have you stay here next time you’re in town.”
Millie held one out to her which Mrs. Drummond took. She slotted it into her jacket pocket. “I think I might just do that.”
As she walked away, Millie smiled triumphantly.
“Well done,” Cole said. “You handled her like a pro.”
Millie waited until she was sure Mrs. Drummond was out of earshot, and then her smile fell. “What the hell was that?” she hissed under her breath.
Cole took a step back, his eyes widening. “What was what?”
“I was managing perfectly well until you showed up and weighed in with your size elevens.”
Cole’s head jerked back as though she’d slapped him. His jaw tightened. “I was only trying to help. She was being pretty aggressive, and I—”
“Hey, Marion,” Millie interjected when her coworker arrived. She didn’t need Marion overhearing an argument between her and Cole. “You’re just in time.” Because if I don’t get out of here, I may just punch my boss.
The two women had a brief handover discussion, then Millie grabbed her purse and, brushing past Cole, she set off for home.
“Wait,” he called out, jogging after her. “I’m sorry, but I just thought—”
Millie drew to a stop and planted her hands on her hips, her anger growing until she had no choice but to let rip before it consumed her. “I don’t care what you thought. You undermined me, made me feel inadequate, when in reality I am more than capable of dealing with a pissed-off client. I don’t need you swooping in and taking over. I’ve had enough of being controlled, and I won’t stand for it any longer.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. Oh shit! Cole’s startled expression at her outburst mirrored her own shock. He reached out a hand. She backed away.
“I-I need to go.”
“Don’t. Not like this. I promise I won’t interfere again. Just…just talk to me, please.”
She shook her head vigorously. “I’m sorry, Cole. I can’t.”
She spun on her heel, praying like hell he didn’t follow.
* * *
&nb
sp; Cole watched in despair as Millie almost sprinted down the street, such was her desperation to get away. Except he wasn’t sure if she was running from him or herself.
He’d handled the situation with the client badly. When he’d walked in from work to find Millie under fire, he should have taken a moment to pause and assess the lay of the land. Instead, he’d butted in and fucked up royally.
Her comment about being controlled confirmed his suspicions about what her life had been like with Tanner. He’d clearly manipulated and disempowered her. And just as she was beginning her journey of rediscovery back to the woman Cole remembered—joyous, tenacious, sparky, confident—he’d made a dumb move. And she’d shut down.
Slick, dickhead. Real slick.
He needed to encourage her, to allow her to take those fledgling steps back to the woman hiding inside desperate to escape, not barrel in and take over. As much as it went against his protective instincts and his need to fix it all, he couldn’t. She had to do this for herself.
But he’d be right there in the shadows, supporting her, ready to step in the moment she called.
Chapter 8
The next few weeks flew by. Millie slowly settled back into life in New York. She’d spent the first few days following her altercation with Cole tensing every time they’d come into contact, but instead of tackling her as she’d anticipated, he’d kept a polite—and frustrating—distance. An occasional nod, a warm smile. A wave or two, but never stopping to chat. He was always rushing, always busy.
She missed him. She had no right to miss him, but facts were facts.
Finally settled, and with no sign of Tanner, she’d plucked up the courage to contact her parents. She’d prepared herself for cold judgment and harsh rejection when she’d informed them she’d left her husband—albeit she’d omitted the details of why—and was back in New York. Instead, her mom had cried and told her how much she loved her, and that she couldn’t wait to see her.
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