Unveiled
Page 72

I shake my head adamantly. ‘It’s too dangerous. You’d never be able to pull it off – he must have dozens of heavies watching his back.’ My panic is escalating. I heard Gregory mention guns. ‘And you can’t live with this on your conscience for the rest of your life.’
‘It’s too dangerous not to. And Charlie himself has given me the perfect opportunity.’
His confounding words hold me silent for a second before realisation slams into me and I gasp. ‘Oh God. He wants you to go on a date?’
He nods mildly, choosing to remain quiet and let it settle in my wrought mind. This only gets worse by the minute. There has to be another way.
Something deep and possessive inside of me is stirring at the thought of someone else touching and kissing him. Part of my mind is screaming, Let him kill Charlie. The world’s a better place without him! And a little devil on my shoulder is nodding his agreement. But I suddenly have a little angel, too, and she’s looking at me sorrowfully, not speaking, but I know what she’d say if she did.
Let him go.
Just for one night.
It’ll mean nothing to him.
‘She’s the sister of a Russian drug lord,’ he says quietly. ‘She’s wanted me for years but she disgusts me. She gets off on degrading her partner. All she wants is the power. If Charlie delivers me, he’ll get in with the Russians. It would be a very lucrative partnership, and he’s wanted it for a long time.’
‘Why don’t they just join forces anyway?’
‘The Russian’s sister won’t agree to an association unless she gets me.’
‘Let go of me,’ I whisper quietly, and he does, breaking away from my sprawled body and resting back on his knees. Apprehension is pouring from him. I get to my knees and reach for him, catching him frowning. But he lets me do my thing. I start to tug at his shoulders, encouraging him to turn away from me, and when his back comes into view, I fall apart.
It’s a mess. Red lines are crisscrossing his back; some are weeping tiny beads of blood and others are swollen. His back looks like a roadmap. He really did want me to hurt him, but his reasons were far deeper than a pleasure-pain mix. He wanted my marks all over him. He belongs to someone.
Me.
My palms find my face and I push my fingers into my eyes, unable to stop the constant hitching of my breath from my pain-filled sobs.
‘Don’t cry,’ he whispers, turning and taking me in his arms. He kisses my head repeatedly, stroking my hair and holding me tight. ‘Please, don’t cry.’
Guilt attacks me and I yell at myself to do the right thing. Miller’s willingness to do something so wretched for me is only enhancing it. No matter how much I tell myself that Charlie is the devil in disguise, that he deserves everything he gets, I still can’t convince myself to agree. Miller would shoulder the burden for the rest of his life, and now that I know, so will I. I can’t let him do that to us. It’ll be like a noose around our necks for the rest of our lives together.
‘Shhhhh,’ he soothes, pulling me onto his lap.
‘Let’s run away,’ I sob. It’s the only way. ‘We’ll take Nan and go far, far away.’ My mind is making a mental list of places as he looks at me fondly, like I just don’t understand.
‘We can’t.’
I feel aggravation budding as a result of his simple and final answer. ‘Yes, we can.’
‘No, Olivia. We can’t.’
‘We can!’ I yell, making him wince and close his eyes. He’s trying to gather his patience. ‘Stop saying we can’t when we can!’ We could go now. Pack Nan up and drive off. I don’t care where we end up, as long as it’s miles from London, away from this vile, cruel world. I’m not sure why Miller has claimed to be on his way to hell, because it feels like he’s already there. And I’m with him.
Blue eyes slowly peel open. Haunted blue eyes. They steal my breath and stop my heart, but not in the usual way. ‘I cannot leave London,’ he says clearly, his look and tone daring me to interrupt him. He’s not done yet. He really can’t leave London and there’s a damn good reason why. ‘He has something very damaging on me.’
I hate my body’s natural instinct to remove itself from his hold. I sit far back, working up the courage to ask the operative question. ‘What?’ I barely hear myself.
His Adam’s apple protrudes from his throat and settles slowly after his challenging swallow, and his lovely face has drifted into . . . nothing. ‘I killed a man.’
The noose I was avoiding is around my neck already, and it’s tightening fast. I swallow repeatedly, my eyes wide and rooted to his straight face. My mouth has been zapped of moisture, too, making breathing increasingly hard. ‘I . . .’ I move back slowly, numbly, feeling the ground around me to check it’s still there. I’m falling into hell. ‘He can’t prove it,’ I claim, my tortured mind feeding my mouth words that I have no control over. Maybe it’s my subconscious refusing to believe it’s true. I don’t know. ‘No one will believe him.’ He’s holding Miller to ransom. Blackmailing him.
‘He has evidence, Livy. Video evidence.’ He’s so calm. There’s no panic or fear. ‘If I don’t do what he wants, he’ll expose me.’
‘Oh God.’ My hand rakes through my hair, my eyes darting around the room. Miller will be thrown in prison. Both of our lives will be over. ‘Who?’ I ask, forcing my eyes to him, all the while hearing Gregory’s light sarcasm that time he wanted to add murderer to Miller’s long list of flaws.
‘That’s not important.’ His lips press together. I think I need to be angry, but I can’t seem to muster the fire in my belly. My boyfriend has just confessed to killing someone and I’m sitting here like an idiot asking calm questions. I don’t want to believe that there’s an underlying reason for my reaction, but I know for sure there is. I should be running away as far as my legs will carry me, yet I’m still sitting on the floor of his flat, totally naked, looking at him.
‘Elaborate,’ I grate, squaring my shoulders in a display of strength.
‘I don’t want to,’ he whispers, dropping his eyes. ‘I don’t want to pollute your beautiful, pure mind with it, Livy. I’ve promised myself so many times that I won’t tarnish you with my dirty brush.’
‘Too late,’ I say quietly, whipping his eyes to mine. He must realise. My apparently beautiful and pure mind has long been tarnished with dirt, and not just Miller’s. There’s plenty of shit I’ve inflicted on myself, too. ‘Tell me.’
‘I can’t tell you,’ he breathes, shame now apparent on his cool face. ‘But I can show you.’ He slowly rises from the floor and holds his hand out to me. Instinct is working again, because my arm lifts of its own accord and I lay my hand in his. I’m pulled to my feet and our naked bodies meet, the heat of his bare flesh swathing me instantly. I don’t pull away. He doesn’t have a firm hold of me; he isn’t keeping me where I am. I’m choosing to stay. His fingertip meets my chin and pulls my face up to his. ‘I want you to promise me that what I show you won’t make you run. But I know that’s not fair.’