down. He gazes across the table at me, and I note after only a few seconds of studying him that he’s slipping into that emotionless man who repels everyone. We’re back in London. All that’s missing is his suit.
‘Who was that?’ I ask, picking up the pot of tea that’s steaming in the centre of the table and pouring myself a cup.
‘Tony.’ His reply is as curt and short as he was with Tony just now.
Dumping the teapot a little heavy-handed to my right, I make quick work of adding milk and stirring, and then watch in astonishment when Miller leans over the table and takes the pot, placing it exactly back in the centre of the table. Then he tweaks it a little more.
I sigh, taking a sip of my tea and immediately wince at the taste. I swallow hard and put the mug down. ‘How many tea bags did you put in there?’
He frowns and looks at the pot. ‘Two.’
‘Doesn’t taste like it.’ It tastes like warmed milk. I reach over to take the lid off and peek inside. ‘There are none in here.’
‘I took them out.’
‘Why?’
‘Because they’d block the spout.’
I smile. ‘Miller, a million teapots in England have tea bags steeping inside. The spouts never get blocked.’
He rolls his eyes and sits back in his chair, folding his arms over his naked chest. ‘I’m being intuitive here—’
‘Miller Hart?’ I cut in, reining in my smirk. ‘Never.’
His tired look only increases my amusement. I can tell he’s relishing in my playfulness, even if he’s refusing to reciprocate. He continues. ‘And I’m going to suggest that you’re insinuating my tea-making skills are lacking.’
‘Your intuition is correct.’
‘Thought so,’ he mutters, collecting his phone from the table and pressing a few buttons. ‘I was trying to make you feel at home.’
‘I am at home.’ I wince when he shoots an injured look in my direction. I didn’t mean that how it sounded. ‘I—’
Miller puts the phone to his ear. ‘Have my car ready for nine,’ he orders.
‘Miller, I didn’t—’
‘And make sure it’s spotless,’ he continues, flat-out ignoring my attempt to explain.
‘You’ve taken it—’
‘And that means the boot, too.’
I pick up my mug, just so I can slam it down. And I do. Hard. ‘Stop being childish!’
He recoils in his chair and cuts the call. ‘I beg your pardon.’
I laugh a little. ‘Don’t start with the begging, Miller. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
His forearms meet the table and he leans in. ‘Why won’t you stay with me?’
I look into his pleading eyes and sigh. ‘Because I need to be here,’ I reply, seeing no understanding developing, so I go on in the hopes of making him comprehend. ‘I need to have things ready for when she comes home. I need to be here to take care of her.’
‘Then she can come and live with us,’ he counters immediately. He’s serious and I’m shocked. He’s prepared to expose himself to the potential of another person, besides me, screwing up his perfect home? Nan will send Miller into obsessive meltdown. She might be ill, but I’m under no illusion that she won’t seize control of Miller’s household. It would be anarchy. Miller would never cope.
‘Trust me,’ I laugh. ‘You really don’t mean that.’
‘I do,’ he retorts, wiping my smile from my face. ‘I know what you’re thinking.’
‘What?’ I’d love him to confirm my thoughts, because if he does that, we’re halfway to an admission.
‘You know what.’ His eyes are warning me. ‘I’d feel more at ease if you’re at my place. It’s safer.’
It takes every ounce of my remaining patience not to show my exasperation. I should have expected this. I refuse to be chaperoned and guarded. Meeting and falling in love with Miller Hart might have given me freedom, awakened me, and ignited a desire to live and feel, but I’m also aware that there could now be an element of constraint attached to my newfound freedom. I’m not going to let that happen. ‘I’m staying,’ I assert with utter finality, making Miller’s whole body go lax in his chair.
‘As you wish,’ he breathes, closing his eyes and looking to the heavens. ‘Fucking sass.’
I smile, loving the sight of Miller so exasperated, but loving his easy acceptance even more. ‘What are you doing today?’
His head drops, one eye narrowing on me suspiciously. ‘You’re going to refuse to accompany me, aren’t you?’
My smile widens. ‘Yes. I’m going to go see Nan.’
‘You can come to Ice with me first.’
‘No.’ I shake my head slowly. I expect Cassie will be there and I’m not up for looks of disdain or words that’ll likely reduce me to dust. I have better things to do than get involved in a territory battle, and nothing will delay me getting to Nan.
He leans forward, jaw ticking. ‘You’re testing my fucking patience, Olivia. You are coming and you will accept.’
I will? I know why he’s trying to lay down his rules, but the arrogant manner in which he’s doing it has my sass exploding before I can tell myself to be reasonable. My palms meet the table and I move in fast, making Miller retreat in his chair. ‘If you want to keep me as a possession, then you’ll lay off on the arsehole behaviour! I’m not an object, Miller. Having an appreciation of your possession doesn’t mean you get to boss me around.’ I stand, sending my chair skidding back on the floor. ‘I’m going for a shower.’ My feet make quick work of removing me from the simmering anger emanating from Miller as a result of my insolence. He just couldn’t stop, and there’s only so long I can humour him.
I take my time showering and dressing, and I’m surprised when I get downstairs and find Miller’s gone. But not so surprised when I find the kitchen smelling like it’s been attacked by antibacterial spray and looking like it’s been doused in sparkle dust. I won’t complain, though, because it means I can get to the hospital without delay. Snatching up my bag, I swing the front door open and dart out while fishing my keys from my satchel.
‘Oh!’ I yelp, bouncing off a chest and staggering back. I collide with the front door as it meets the frame, smacking my shoulder blade. ‘Shit!’ My hand instinctively reaches over my back and rubs away the sharp stab of pain.
‘In a rush?’ Strong fingers wrap around my forearm and hold me in place.
I drag irritated eyes up a suited frame, knowing what I’m going to be confronted with once I venture past the neck. And I’m right. William. My mother’s ex-pimp/my self-appointed guardian angel. ‘Yes, so if you’ll excuse me.’ I go to sidestep him, but he shifts with me, blocking my path. Biting my tongue and taking a calming breath, I square my shoulders and lift my chin. He’s not in the least bit fazed. It doesn’t sit well. My sass is getting hard to uphold. It’s exhausting.
‘In the car, Olivia.’ His tone irritates the hell out of me, but I know that refusing will get me nowhere.
‘He made you come here, didn’t he?’ I don’t believe it! The sneaky bastard!
‘I see little point in denying it,’ William confirms my thoughts and gestures towards his car again, where Ted is standing holding the back door open, that smile ever present on his rugged, friendly face.
I return his smile, then quickly revert to furious when I swing my eyes back onto William. ‘If you chew my ear off, then I’ll do a bunk!’
‘A bunk? You mean leave?’ William laughs. ‘Chewing ears, doing bunks. Whatever next?’
‘A foot up your annoying arse,’ I mutter, stomping past him. ‘I’m not sure whether you and Miller have noticed, but I’m an adult!’
‘Miss Taylor.’ Ted nods, and my aggravation falls away in an instant as I slip into the back.
‘Hi, Ted,’ I chirp, ignoring the look of disbelief that William throws in his driver’s direction, followed by the shrug of Ted’s shoulders as he brushes it all off. I couldn’t be stroppy with him if I tried. He has a calming aur
a surrounding him that seems to rub off on me. And to think this guy drives like a demon.
Settling back in my seat, I wait for William to slide in the other side while I swivel my ring, looking out of the window. ‘I was planning on visiting Josephine this morning anyway,’ he says.
I ignore him and take my phone from my bag to text Miller.
I’m mad at you.
I don’t need to elaborate. He knows William is the last person I want to be with. I click send and go to toss my phone back into my bag, but William catches my hand and I look up to see him frowning. ‘What’s this?’ he asks, tracing over my diamond ring.
Every defence mechanism I have flies up. ‘Just a ring.’ Oh, this should be fun. I pull my hand away, annoyed that my other hand instinctively hides it from his prying eyes. I don’t want to hide it. From anyone.
‘On your left ring finger?’
‘Yes,’ I snap, mildly aware that I’m pressing his buttons. I’m leading him down a merry path, when I could quite easily put his obviously racing mind to rest. I’m not explaining. He can think what he likes.
‘You’re marrying him?’ William pushes, his tone getting impatient at my continued disrespect. I’m a brave girl, but I’m also a very pissed off girl. Fleeing from London again is becoming more tempting by the second, except this time I’ll be kidnapping Nan from the hospital and taking her with me.
I maintain my silence and look down at my phone when it pings the arrival of a text.
What have I done to make you mad, sweet girl?
I scoff and drop my phone back into my satchel, not prepared to irritate myself further by entertaining his ignorance with a reply. I just want to see Nan.
‘Olivia Taylor,’ William sighs, humour starting to dilute his annoyance. ‘You never fail to disappoint.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I swing to face him, finding a mild smile on his handsome face. I know exactly what he means, and he said it to draw a reaction, to snap me from my moody silence. He’s succeeded. Now I’m still moody, but I’m far from silent. ‘Ted, could you pull over, please?’
William shakes his head and doesn’t bother to voice his counter-command to his driver. He doesn’t need to. Ted’s clearly not as brave as me . . . or, most definitely, has more respect for William Anderson. I look to the mirror and see that smile again. It seems to be a permanent fixture on his face.
‘Why’s he always so happy?’ I ask as I return my eyes to William, genuinely interested.
He’s regarding me thoughtfully, his fingers drumming the door where his arm is resting. ‘I think perhaps you might remind him of someone.’ He speaks quietly, almost cautiously, and I recoil in my chair when I register what he means. Ted knew my mother? I frown, thinking hard. Should I ask? I open my mouth to speak, but it snaps closed just as quick. Would I even want to see her if it turns out she is alive? My answer comes to me quickly with hardly any thought behind my reasoning. I don’t question it.
No. I wouldn’t.
The hospital is hot and stuffy, yet my feet still move fast down the corridor, keen to get to Nan. William is pacing steadily beside me, his long legs seeming to keep up easily. ‘Your friend,’ he says, out of the blue, making my steps falter. My mind falters, too. I don’t know why. I know who he’s talking about. ‘Gregory,’ he clarifies, as if he is in any doubt of who I think he is referring to.
My stride catches up again and I keep my focus forward. ‘What about him?’
‘Nice chap.’
My forehead wrinkles at his observation. Gregory is a very nice chap, but I sense William isn’t simply intending on heading down a road of flattery. ‘He is a very nice chap.’
‘Ambitious, smart . . .’
‘Wait!’ I skid to a halt and throw disbelieving eyes at William. Then I laugh. Uncontrollably. I’m in pieces. The distinguished, suited man is rendered speechless and wide-eyed as I fall all over the hospital corridor, tittering to myself. ‘Oh God!’ I chuckle, wiping under a leaking eye as I glance up at William. He’s looking around us, clearly uncomfortable. ‘Nice try, William.’ I march on my way, leaving William tentatively following behind. He really is desperate. ‘Sorry to disappoint you,’ I call over my shoulder, ‘but Gregory is gay.’
‘He is?’ His stunned reply makes me turn on a smile, keen to see the formidable William Anderson’s surprise. Not much fazes him. But this has, and I’m rolling in the delight it has brought me.
‘Yes, he is, so you can save your breath.’ I should be fuming at his continued efforts to put me off Miller, but my enjoyment won’t allow it. Miller, however, won’t take it too kindly if he gets wind of William’s relentless interfering.
Leaving William to regain his composure, I rush into the ward, heading straight to the bay where I know Nan to be. ‘Good morning!’ I chirp, finding her sitting in her chair, adorned in a floral dress, her hair styled perfectly. There’s a tray on her lap and she’s poking at what looks like an egg sandwich.
Unimpressed old navy eyes beat down my breeziness in a flash. ‘Is it?’ she grumbles, sliding the tray onto the table.
My heart sinks as I take a seat on the edge of her bed. ‘You’re in the best place, Nan.’
‘Pfft!’ she sulks, brushing her perfect curls off her face. ‘Yes, if I were dead, but I’m perfectly well!’
Not wanting to be condescending, I force my eyes not to roll. ‘They wouldn’t keep you here if they thought you were perfectly well.’
‘Do I look like that?’ She swings an arm out and points her wrinkled finger to the old dear in the opposite bed. My lips straighten, not knowing what to say. No, she looks nothing like the poor woman who’s dozing across the way, her mouth dropped open. She really does look dead. ‘Enid!’ Nan hollers, making me jump. ‘Enid, dear, this is my granddaughter. Remember I told you?’
‘Nan, she’s sleeping!’ I hiss, just as William rounds the corner. He has a grin on his face, no doubt after hearing the spunky Josephine causing havoc.
‘She’s not sleeping,’ Nan argues. ‘Enid!’
I shake my head and look to William again with pleading eyes, but he just maintains that amused smile, shrugging his shoulders. Both of us cast a sideways glance when coughing and spluttering emanates from Enid’s direction, and I find her heavy eyes looking around, bewildered.
‘Yoo-hoo! Over here!’ Nan waves a deranged arm in the air. ‘Put your glasses on, dear. They’re on your lap.’
Enid pats around on the covers for a few moments, then slips her glasses on. A gummy grin materialises on her pasty face. ‘Sweet thing,’ she croaks, before her head falls back, her eyes close, and her mouth drops open again.
I make to stand, alarmed. ‘Is she OK?’
William chuckles and joins me on the bed in front of Nan. ‘It’s her medication. She’s fine.’
‘No,’ Nan jumps in. ‘I’m fine. She’s on her way to the pearly gates. When are they releasing me?’
‘Tomorrow, or maybe Friday, if the consultant agrees,’ William tells her, bringing a hopeful smile to her face. ‘If the consultant agrees,’ he reinforces with a certain look of knowing.
‘Oh, he’ll agree,’ she replies, too confidently, her hands resting in her lap. Then silence falls and her navy eyes travel between me and William a few times, curiosity rife on her round face. ‘How are you two?’
‘Very well.’
‘Fine.’ My answer clashes with William’s, and we both look out the corner of our eye at each other.
‘Where’s Miller?’ she goes on, pulling our attention back to her demanding presence.
I keep silent now, thinking William will answer again, but he remains quiet, leaving me to speak up. There’s a tension between us, and Nan’s clearly picking up on it. We’re not helping matters in the slightest. I don’t want her to worry about anything other than getting well. ‘He’s at work.’ I start faffing with the water jug on the cabinet beside her bed, anything to instigate a conversation change. ‘Shall I get you some fresh water?’
‘Clean cup?’ I sound hopeful.
‘Done.’
I deflate and confront her curious face. ‘Do you need any clean clothes or underwear? Toiletries?’
‘William saw to that yesterday morning.’
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