Promised
Page 31
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Sitting on the side of his bed, I wonder what to do, and for the first time the full force of my stupidity smacks me hard in the face. I’m in a strange apartment, na**d in the middle of the night, after having crazy, no-emotions, reckless sex with a stranger. Sensible, wise Livy has just pulled a stunt worthy of an award. I’ve let myself down.
I look around for my clothes, but they’re nowhere in sight.
‘Fucking hell!’ I curse to myself. What the hell has he done with them? Logic descends too quickly and I find myself in front of the cabinet, removing the lamp and pulling a drawer open, finding neat piles of men’s clothes. It doesn’t deter me. I pull the next open, then the next and the next, until I’m on my knees at the bottom drawer, staring at my clothes, all neatly folded, with my Converse positioned deftly next to them, laces tucked in. I laugh to myself, pull my belongings free from the drawer, and quickly dress myself.
As I turn to exit, I notice a piece of paper on the bed. I don’t want to believe that he’s left me a pillow note, and I should probably leave without reading it, but I’m just too damn curious. Miller makes me curious, and that’s a bad thing because everyone knows that curiosity killed the bloody cat. I hate myself for it but I hurry over and snatch it up, angry before I’ve even read it.
Livy,
I’ve had to nip out. I won’t be long so please do not leave.
If you need me, call me. I’ve stored my number in your phone.
Miller
x
Stupidly, I sigh at the sight of a kiss after his name. Then I get mighty irritated. He’s had to nip out? Who nips out in the middle of the night? I go in search of my phone to establish exactly what time it is. I find my bag and phone on the glass coffee table, and after turning it on and ignoring dozens of missed calls from Gregory and three text messages advising me that I’m in trouble, the screen tells me it’s three o’clock in the morning. Three?
My phone is spun repeatedly in my grasp as I contemplate what could’ve called him away at this time. An emergency, perhaps? Something could’ve happened to a member of his family. He could be at a hospital or picking up a drunken sister from a nightclub. Does he have a sister? All sorts of reasons are dancing in my head, but when my phone starts ringing in my hand and I look down and see his name flashing on my screen, I stop wondering because I’m about to find out.
I connect the call. ‘Hello?’
‘You’re awake.’
‘Well, yes, and you’re not here.’ I sit down on the sofa. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yes, it’s fine.’ He’s speaking quietly. Maybe he is in a hospital. ‘I’ll be back soon so just relax in bed, okay?’
Relax in bed? ‘I was just leaving.’
‘What?’ He’s not whispering any more.
‘You’re not here, so there’s little point in me staying.’ This isn’t being worshipped; this is being abandoned.
‘There’s a big point!’ he argues, and I hear a door slam in the background. ‘Just stay where you are.’ He sounds fretful.
‘Miller, are you okay?’ I ask. ‘Has something happened?’
‘No, nothing.’
‘Then what’s called you out in the middle of the night?’
‘Just business, Livy. Go back to bed.’
The word ‘business’ spikes unwarranted resentment in me. ‘Are you with that woman?’
‘What makes you say that?’
His question has transformed that resentment into suspicion. ‘Because you said “business”.’ With all of the mind-blanking worshipping, I’d forgotten about the black-haired beauty.
‘No, please. Just get back in bed.’
I flop back against the sofa. ‘I won’t sleep. This wasn’t part of the deal, Miller. I don’t want to be alone in a strange apartment.’ The absurdity of my words makes me physically kick myself. Yes, because I’m happier in a strange apartment with a strange man, who makes me lose all sensibility.
‘The deal was for one night, Olivia. Twenty-four hours, and I’m annoyed enough at having to lose a few of those. If you’re not in that bed when I get home, then I’ll . . .
I sit up. ‘You’ll what?’ I ask, hearing his panicked, fitful breaths down the line.
‘I’ll . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘I’ll . . .’
‘You’ll what?’ I hiss impatiently, standing and picking up my bag. Is he threatening me?
‘Then I’ll find you and put you back in it!’ he snaps.
I actually laugh. ‘Are you listening to yourself?’
‘Yes.’ His tone has calmed. ‘It’s not courteous to break a deal.’
‘We didn’t shake on it.’
‘No, we f**ked on it.’
I gasp, scowl, and choke all at once. ‘I thought you were a gentleman.’
‘Whatever gave you that idea?’
My mouth snaps shut as I consider his question. Our first meeting never suggested that he’s a gentleman, and neither did our following encounters, but his attentiveness and manners since I’ve been here have. There has been no f**king, not in any sense of the word.
A horrid realisation dawns. I really have been very stupid. He’s seduced me, and he’s done it brilliantly. ‘I have no idea, but I’m clearly mistaken. Thank you for the countless orgasms.’ I hear him shouting my name as I pull the phone away from my ear and hang up. I’m stunned by my own brazenness, but Miller Hart spikes my inner spunk. And that’s dangerous territory to be falling into, but essential to maintain when dealing with this confounding man. Throwing my satchel over my shoulder, I head for his front door, rejecting the incoming call before turning off my phone.
Chapter 9
I didn’t sleep a wink, despite being in the comfort of my own bed. After sneaking into the house like a professional cat burglar, I tiptoed up the stairs, avoided all of the creaking floorboards, and crossed the landing stealthily until I was in the safety of my own room. Then I lay there in the darkness for the remaining few hours of night, looking blankly and blindly up at the ceiling.
Now the birds are tweeting, I can hear Nan downstairs pottering around in the kitchen, and I have no desire to face the day. My mind is awash with images, thoughts and conclusions, none of which I want to waste brain space on. But no matter how hard I’m trying, I just can’t boot him out of my jumbled head.
Leaning over to my bedside table, I unplug my phone from the charger and brave turning it on. There’s another five missed calls from Gregory, one from Miller and a voicemail. I don’t want to hear what either man has to say, but that doesn’t stop me from tormenting myself further and listening to the damn message. It’s my worried friend¸ not Miller.
‘Olivia Taylor, you and I are going to be having some very strong words when I get hold of you. What are you thinking, baby girl? For crying out loud! I thought you were the sensible one out of the two of us. You’d better call me, or I’ll be paying a visit to Nan, and I’ll be telling her of your transgressions! He could be a ra**st, an axe murderer! Holy shit, you stupid woman! I’m not a happy bunny!’
He sounds totally exasperated, the drama queen. And I know he won’t spill to Nan because he knows, just as well as I do, that she’ll be rejoicing, not despairing. Empty threats, that’s all his message is. Part true, but over the top and completely knocked out of perspective.
I look around for my clothes, but they’re nowhere in sight.
‘Fucking hell!’ I curse to myself. What the hell has he done with them? Logic descends too quickly and I find myself in front of the cabinet, removing the lamp and pulling a drawer open, finding neat piles of men’s clothes. It doesn’t deter me. I pull the next open, then the next and the next, until I’m on my knees at the bottom drawer, staring at my clothes, all neatly folded, with my Converse positioned deftly next to them, laces tucked in. I laugh to myself, pull my belongings free from the drawer, and quickly dress myself.
As I turn to exit, I notice a piece of paper on the bed. I don’t want to believe that he’s left me a pillow note, and I should probably leave without reading it, but I’m just too damn curious. Miller makes me curious, and that’s a bad thing because everyone knows that curiosity killed the bloody cat. I hate myself for it but I hurry over and snatch it up, angry before I’ve even read it.
Livy,
I’ve had to nip out. I won’t be long so please do not leave.
If you need me, call me. I’ve stored my number in your phone.
Miller
x
Stupidly, I sigh at the sight of a kiss after his name. Then I get mighty irritated. He’s had to nip out? Who nips out in the middle of the night? I go in search of my phone to establish exactly what time it is. I find my bag and phone on the glass coffee table, and after turning it on and ignoring dozens of missed calls from Gregory and three text messages advising me that I’m in trouble, the screen tells me it’s three o’clock in the morning. Three?
My phone is spun repeatedly in my grasp as I contemplate what could’ve called him away at this time. An emergency, perhaps? Something could’ve happened to a member of his family. He could be at a hospital or picking up a drunken sister from a nightclub. Does he have a sister? All sorts of reasons are dancing in my head, but when my phone starts ringing in my hand and I look down and see his name flashing on my screen, I stop wondering because I’m about to find out.
I connect the call. ‘Hello?’
‘You’re awake.’
‘Well, yes, and you’re not here.’ I sit down on the sofa. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yes, it’s fine.’ He’s speaking quietly. Maybe he is in a hospital. ‘I’ll be back soon so just relax in bed, okay?’
Relax in bed? ‘I was just leaving.’
‘What?’ He’s not whispering any more.
‘You’re not here, so there’s little point in me staying.’ This isn’t being worshipped; this is being abandoned.
‘There’s a big point!’ he argues, and I hear a door slam in the background. ‘Just stay where you are.’ He sounds fretful.
‘Miller, are you okay?’ I ask. ‘Has something happened?’
‘No, nothing.’
‘Then what’s called you out in the middle of the night?’
‘Just business, Livy. Go back to bed.’
The word ‘business’ spikes unwarranted resentment in me. ‘Are you with that woman?’
‘What makes you say that?’
His question has transformed that resentment into suspicion. ‘Because you said “business”.’ With all of the mind-blanking worshipping, I’d forgotten about the black-haired beauty.
‘No, please. Just get back in bed.’
I flop back against the sofa. ‘I won’t sleep. This wasn’t part of the deal, Miller. I don’t want to be alone in a strange apartment.’ The absurdity of my words makes me physically kick myself. Yes, because I’m happier in a strange apartment with a strange man, who makes me lose all sensibility.
‘The deal was for one night, Olivia. Twenty-four hours, and I’m annoyed enough at having to lose a few of those. If you’re not in that bed when I get home, then I’ll . . .
I sit up. ‘You’ll what?’ I ask, hearing his panicked, fitful breaths down the line.
‘I’ll . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘I’ll . . .’
‘You’ll what?’ I hiss impatiently, standing and picking up my bag. Is he threatening me?
‘Then I’ll find you and put you back in it!’ he snaps.
I actually laugh. ‘Are you listening to yourself?’
‘Yes.’ His tone has calmed. ‘It’s not courteous to break a deal.’
‘We didn’t shake on it.’
‘No, we f**ked on it.’
I gasp, scowl, and choke all at once. ‘I thought you were a gentleman.’
‘Whatever gave you that idea?’
My mouth snaps shut as I consider his question. Our first meeting never suggested that he’s a gentleman, and neither did our following encounters, but his attentiveness and manners since I’ve been here have. There has been no f**king, not in any sense of the word.
A horrid realisation dawns. I really have been very stupid. He’s seduced me, and he’s done it brilliantly. ‘I have no idea, but I’m clearly mistaken. Thank you for the countless orgasms.’ I hear him shouting my name as I pull the phone away from my ear and hang up. I’m stunned by my own brazenness, but Miller Hart spikes my inner spunk. And that’s dangerous territory to be falling into, but essential to maintain when dealing with this confounding man. Throwing my satchel over my shoulder, I head for his front door, rejecting the incoming call before turning off my phone.
Chapter 9
I didn’t sleep a wink, despite being in the comfort of my own bed. After sneaking into the house like a professional cat burglar, I tiptoed up the stairs, avoided all of the creaking floorboards, and crossed the landing stealthily until I was in the safety of my own room. Then I lay there in the darkness for the remaining few hours of night, looking blankly and blindly up at the ceiling.
Now the birds are tweeting, I can hear Nan downstairs pottering around in the kitchen, and I have no desire to face the day. My mind is awash with images, thoughts and conclusions, none of which I want to waste brain space on. But no matter how hard I’m trying, I just can’t boot him out of my jumbled head.
Leaning over to my bedside table, I unplug my phone from the charger and brave turning it on. There’s another five missed calls from Gregory, one from Miller and a voicemail. I don’t want to hear what either man has to say, but that doesn’t stop me from tormenting myself further and listening to the damn message. It’s my worried friend¸ not Miller.
‘Olivia Taylor, you and I are going to be having some very strong words when I get hold of you. What are you thinking, baby girl? For crying out loud! I thought you were the sensible one out of the two of us. You’d better call me, or I’ll be paying a visit to Nan, and I’ll be telling her of your transgressions! He could be a ra**st, an axe murderer! Holy shit, you stupid woman! I’m not a happy bunny!’
He sounds totally exasperated, the drama queen. And I know he won’t spill to Nan because he knows, just as well as I do, that she’ll be rejoicing, not despairing. Empty threats, that’s all his message is. Part true, but over the top and completely knocked out of perspective.
