Unveiled
Page 43

‘Your senses work well.’
He gives me a wicked smile and moves in, locking his arm around my neck and pulling me in. ‘I love it.’
‘You do?’ I’m stunned. Is he lying?
‘I really do.’ Pushing his lips to my head, he takes another long inhale. ‘It’ll look even better when it’s all mussed up and damp.’ His fingers thread through and grip hard, pulling at my scalp. ‘Perfect.’
It’s silly how relieved I am. Really silly. ‘I’m glad you like it, although if you didn’t, I’d have something to say. She followed your instructions to the word.’
‘I should hope so.’
‘You made her nervous.’
‘I was entrusting my most treasured possession to her. She should be nervous.’
‘My hair is my possession.’
‘Wrong,’ he counters quickly and confidently.
I roll my eyes at his impertinence but refrain from challenging him. ‘Where to now?’ I ask, taking his wrist to check the time. ‘We’re too early for Nan.’
‘Now we have to pay someone a visit.’ He clasps my neck and leads me towards his Mercedes. Worry grips me. I don’t like the sound of that.
‘Who?’
Miller turns an almost apologetic expression onto me as I look up at him. ‘I’ll give you three guesses.’
Everything deflates. I don’t need three. ‘William,’ I sigh.
‘Correct.’ He doesn’t give me an opportunity to object. I’m guided into his car and the door shuts firmly before he strides around the front and gets in. ‘I really do love your hair,’ he says softly as he settles in his seat, like he’s trying to pacify me . . . ease me.
My focus remains straight ahead as I weigh up the merits of doing a bunk. I don’t want to see William. I don’t want to face his disapproval, his smug arrogance. Miller knows it, and he doesn’t make me do things that he knows I don’t want to do. Yet I fear on this occasion his promise will be broken. It doesn’t stop me from trying, though. ‘I don’t want to come.’ I turn to look at him, finding thoughtfulness riddling his face.
‘Tough luck,’ he whispers as he starts the car and pulls away, leaving me gulping down courage.
Miller has come to depend on William for information. I know Miller doesn’t like it, and I know William doesn’t like it. I definitely don’t like it. But regrettably, it seems none of us has a choice. My eyes close and remain that way during the entire journey. Neither of us speak, the silence cutting the close air around us. It’s awkward. It’s painful. And it makes the drive drag out forever.
When we’ve reached our destination, I can sense Miller’s tension. The atmosphere seems to freeze, sending every muscle in my body rigid. They’re not even within sight of each other yet, but all of the invisible animosity is already rife. It’s making my skin prickle and my pulse quicken. I feel like I’m walking willingly into the lion’s den with a steak strapped to my chest.
‘Open your eyes, Olivia.’ Miller’s placid tone strokes my skin and I find myself peeling my lids open, even though I have no desire to see what will be outside of the car. But I keep my gaze on my lap, noting my eternity ring spinning wildly on my finger, courtesy of my own unconscious fiddling. ‘And look at me,’ he orders.
Before I can obey, my nape is clasped and twisted until I’m facing him. I root my eyes to Miller, knowing what I’ll see beyond him if I cast my eyes past him.
The Society.
William’s club.
‘Better,’ he says, reaching over with his spare hand and arranging my new hair just so. ‘You know William Anderson isn’t my favourite person,’ he declares, ‘but he cares for you dearly, Olivia.’
I choke on nothing and open my mouth to argue, to tell him that all of William’s actions are spiked by his guilt. He couldn’t save my mother so he’s trying to cleanse his soul and save me, but I get a palm laid neatly on my lips to shut me up before I start.
‘If I can accept his help, then you certainly can.’
My face twists in defeat behind his palm, my eyes narrowing slightly. The mild curve of his lips tells me exactly what the next words from his perfect mouth will be.
I’m bang on the money.
‘Sass,’ he breathes, moving his hand fast and replacing it with his mouth. The touching of our lips does everything I’ve come to expect and I find myself unbuckling my seat belt while I return his kiss. I quickly find my way across the car to his lap. ‘Hmmmm,’ he hums, helping me get comfortable while our tongues find perfect synchronisation. He’s loading me with the strength I’ll need to face William, to walk into the Society.
‘Come on. Let’s get this over with.’
Moaning my objection, I make it as tricky as possible for Miller to detach me from his mouth and open his door. He cocks his head in instruction for me to jump out, which I do on an audible grumble, slipping from his lap and finding myself on the pavement sooner than I’d like. I do everything to avoid looking up. I faff with my dress, flick my new hair over my shoulders and pull it back to my front, and then accept my bag when it appears by my side. My lungs collect air slowly and I finally locate the strength to face the building before me.
Years of anguish seem to creep up my body from the concrete at my feet and suffocate me. The air grows thick, making breathing challenging. And my eyes burn from the visual reminder of my tainted past. The building is just how I remember it – the giant limestone bricks, the original giant stained-glass windows, the smooth curved concrete steps leading up to gigantic double doors that’ll take me into William’s world. Glossy black metal railings guard the frontage, with gold spikes at the tip of each rod, making it seem grand and opulent, but with an edge of danger. A gold plaque fixed to one of the pillars flanking the entrance states in large bold letters the society. I stare blankly at the doors, feeling more vulnerable than ever before. This is the centre of William’s world. This is where it all began, when a young woman stumbled boldly into the unknown.
‘Olivia?’
I shake myself from my reverie and cast a sideways glance at Miller, seeing him looking down at me. He’s trying to conceal his apprehension . . . and failing. It’s pouring from those eyes, yet I’m unsure whether his unease is because of where we’re heading or because I’m falling fast into despondency. ‘The last time I was here, William sent me away for good.’
Miller’s lips straighten and misery to equal mine plagues his features.
‘I never wanted to see this place again, Miller.’
His misery doubles and he moves in to take me in his thing. It’s the perfect hiding place. ‘I need you with me, Livy. I feel like I’m constantly balancing on the edge of a black hole that’ll swallow me up and take me back to complete darkness with one slight wrong move.’ His palms skate up my back until they’re cupping the sides of my head. He pulls me from my hiding place and finds my eyes. I hate the hint of defeatism I can detect there. ‘Don’t give up on us, I beg you.’
A light switches on in response to Miller’s plea, and I mentally pull my sorry self together. Miller Hart isn’t a weak man. I’m not mistaking his confession as weakness. He’s not. I’m simply a chink in this confounding man’s tight armour. But I’m also a strength, because without me, Miller wouldn’t have entertained the thought of escaping his life of debasement. I’ve given him the reason and strength to do it. I mustn’t make it harder for him than it already is. My history is exactly that – in the past. Gone. It’s Miller’s history preventing us from moving forward. We need to remedy that.