One Night: Unveiled

  So I drink some more.

  I gulp it all down until the bottle is empty and I’m hurling it across Miller’s office in a temper, annoyed and deranged. My eyes fall onto the masses of other bottles and I randomly select and swig, turning and staggering over to the bathroom. I collide with the wall, the door, the frame, until I’m propped up against the vanity unit and staring at a mess of a woman in the mirror. Tears black with mascara are streaming down my flushed cheeks, my eyes are glazed and haunted, and my heavy blonde hair is an array of tangled waves, framing my pale face.

  I see my mother.

  I look at my reflection with utter contempt, like it’s my archenemy, like it’s the thing I hate most in the world.

  Right now . . . it is.

  Lifting the bottle to my lips, I glug down more alcohol while holding my own eyes. Then I take a deep breath and stumble over to Miller’s desk. I pull drawers open, swipe my hands through the precisely placed items within, messing up his perfectly neat arrangements, until I find what I’m looking for. I gaze down at the shiny metal as I flex my hand around the handle, taking sporadic sips from the bottle while I think.

  After staring blankly at my find for an eternity, I stand and wobble back to the bathroom, slamming the bottle down on the counter. I look up at myself, noting an expressionless face, and bring my hand to my head. Clenching a massive chunk of hair, I open the scissors and snap them shut around my locks, leaving me with a handful of blonde and a scraggy section of hair that’s half the length it once was. Strangely, stress seems to flow out of me. So I grab another section and hack it off, too.

  ‘Olivia!’

  I let my drunken head flop to the side where I find Miller at the doorway of the bathroom. He’s a wreck. His dark waves are a chaotic mess, his face and collar are splattered with blood, his suit is ripped, and he’s wet through. His chest is heaving, but I’m unsure whether it’s a result of exertion or if he’s shocked by what he’s found. My expression remains straight, and it’s only now, when I’m seeing the horror on his notoriously impassive face, that I remember all of the times he’s warned me never to cut my hair.

  So I pull at another section and take the scissors to it, chopping away manically.

  ‘Olivia, fuck, no!’ His body flies towards me like a bullet fired from a gun and his hands start to grapple with me.

  ‘No!’ I scream, twisting away, holding on fiercely to the scissors. ‘Leave me! I want it gone!’ I throw my elbow back into his ribs.

  ‘Fuck!’ Miller yells. His teeth are clenched, the pain clear in his tone, yet he refuses to give up. ‘Give me the fucking scissors!’

  ‘No!’ I haul myself forward, finding myself suddenly free, and swing around wildly, just as Miller comes at me. My hands fly up instinctively, my body going into protective mode, and his tall, lean body collides with me, knocking me back a few paces.

  ‘Fuck!’ he roars, and I open my eyes, finding him on his knees before me. I step back some more as I watch him slap a palm over his shoulder. My wide eyes look down at the scissors in my grasp and I see thick red liquid dripping from the blades. I gasp and my grip immediately releases, letting them tumble to the floor at my feet. Then I collapse to my knees as I watch him shrug off his suit jacket on a few winces until I’m confronted with a white shirt soaked in blood.

  I gulp back my fear, my remorse, my guilt. He rips his waistcoat open, followed in quick succession by his shirt, sending buttons popping and flying in all directions. ‘Shit,’ he spits, inspecting his wound – the wound I’m responsible for. I want to comfort him, but my body and mind are on shutdown. I can’t even speak to apologise. Hysterical cries are tumbling from my lips as my shoulders jerk and my eyes are so full of tears, I struggle to see him anymore. My intoxication isn’t helping my distorted vision. It’s unquestionably a good job. Seeing Miller injured and bleeding is bad enough. Knowing I’m the cause for his pain is bordering unbearable.

  And with that thought, I haul myself to the toilet and throw up. It comes and comes, the alcohol still strong and burning my mouth as my hands brace on the seat and my stomach muscles twist and knot. I’m a mess – a frail, wretched soul. Hopeless and living in hopelessness. A cruel world. And I can’t cope.

  ‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ Miller mumbles from behind me, but I’m too remorseful to chance turning and confronting my wrongs.

  My forehead meets the toilet seat when my retching finally subsides. My head is pounding, my heart is aching, and my soul is broken.

  ‘I have a request.’ Miller’s unexpected calm words fuel the after-effects of my breakdown, prompting the tears to redevelop and burst from my eyes. I keep my head where it is, mainly because I haven’t the strength to lift it, but also because I’m still too much of a coward to face him. ‘Olivia, it’s polite to look at me when I’m talking to you.’

  I shake my head and remain in my hiding place, ashamed of myself.

  ‘Damn it,’ he quietly curses, and then I feel his palm on my nape. He doesn’t gently encourage me out. He yanks me, not bothering to be gentle. It doesn’t matter. I can feel nothing. He grabs each side of my face and jerks me forward, but I drop my eyes to the sliver of naked, blood-stained flesh peeking through his open shirt and waistcoat. ‘Don’t deprive me of that face, Olivia.’ He wrestles with my head until I lift my eyes and his sharp features are close enough to focus on. His lips are straight. His blue eyes are wild and bright, and the hollows in his cheeks are pulsing. ‘I have a fucking request,’ he grits. ‘And you’ll fucking fulfil it.’

  A little sob escapes and my whole body sags in my kneeling position, but his hold of my head keeps me up. The few seconds before he speaks feels like an eternity. ‘You won’t ever stop fucking loving me, Olivia Taylor. Do you fucking hear me?’

  I nod in his hold as he scans my wreck of a face and moves in closer, getting forehead to forehead with me. ‘Say it,’ he breathes. ‘Now.’

  ‘I won’t stop,’ I choke through a sob.

  He nods against me and I feel his hands slide to my back and tug me forward. ‘Give me my thing.’ There’s no softness to his command, but the instant calm that descends as the heat of his body starts to blend with mine is all I need. Our bodies collide and we cling to each other like life itself could end if we let go.

  It might.

  The cracks in our existence are gaping wide open now. There’s no hiding from the cruel reality we need to face. The chains. Escaping them. Being on the brink of despair as we face our demons. I just hope we clear those cracks when we leap and don’t fall into the blackness.

  Miller hushes me repeatedly as I shake in his arms, the tightness of his hold not reducing the vibrations in the slightest. ‘Don’t be sad,’ he begs, his voice now taking on a softer edge. ‘Please, don’t be sad.’ He pries my clawed hands from his back and holds them between us, searching my tear-stained face as I sniffle and judder.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I murmur feebly, dropping my eyes to my lap to escape his lovely face. ‘You’re right. I can’t cope with this.’

  ‘There is no you anymore, Olivia.’ His fingertips grip my chin and lift until I’m facing eyes full of determination. ‘There’s only us. We deal with this together.’

  ‘I feel like I know so much yet so little,’ I confess, my words broken and raspy. He’s shared so much with me, some voluntarily, some he was forced, but there are still so many blanks.

  My perfect part-time gentleman inhales a weary breath and blinks slowly as he brings my hands to his mouth and pushes his lips to the back of each. ‘You possess every part of me, Olivia Taylor. For all of the wrongs I have done and all that I am yet to do, I’m asking for your mercy.’ His eyes sink into me beseechingly. I have forgiven him for all that I know, and I will forgive him for all that I don’t. The wrongs he has yet to do? ‘Only your love will see me through this hell.’

  My bottom lip starts to quiver, the lump in my throat growing rapidly. ‘I’ll help you,’ I vow, flexing my hand in his grip until he releases
me. I reach up, my movement a little disorientated, until I feel his rough cheek. ‘I trust you.’

  He swallows hard and nods mildly. Determination slowly creeps onto his emotion-soaked face and into his telling eyes, bringing my detached, fraudulent gentleman back into the room. ‘Let me get you out of here.’ His body lifts fluidly to full height and he helps me to my feet. The change in position sends blood rushing to my head and I stagger a little. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I answer, swaying on the spot.

  ‘You’re right,’ Miller says matter-of-factly, like I should know exactly what he’s talking about. I can’t frown my confusion because all of my focus is being used to stop myself face-planting to the floor. ‘Alcohol doesn’t suit you.’ My nape is taken, along with my arm, and I’m led on wobbly legs to the couch in Miller’s office. ‘Sit,’ he orders, helping me down. He kneels before me and shakes his head as he reaches for my ruined waves. His fingers comb through what’s left of my hair, the pain clear on his handsome face. ‘Still beautiful,’ he murmurs.

  I attempt a smile but struggle, knowing he’s devastated, and glance past him when his office door swings open. Tony stands there for a few moments, taking in the situation. He looks set to burst under pressure. Miller slowly stands and turns, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets. They just stare at each other, Tony silently assessing his boss and then me. I feel small and stupid under his watchful eyes and in an attempt to shy away and hide the result of my meltdown, I pull my hair from my face and use the tie on my wrist to secure it in a messy knot.

  ‘What’s the situation?’ Miller asks, reaching up to his shoulder and flinching a little.

  ‘The situation?’ Tony blurts on a sarcastic huff of laughter. ‘We have a fucking mess, son!’ He slams the door and stalks over to the drinks cabinet, quickly pouring a scotch and downing it. ‘I’ve a half-dead bloke out there and crowds of people wondering what the fuck just went down!’

  ‘Damage control?’ Miller asks, taking a shot of scotch himself.

  Tony laughs again. ‘Do you have a time machine? Shit, Miller, what the fuck were you thinking?’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking,’ he spits, making me shrink into the couch, like the root cause of this mess might not be noticed if I make myself small. A flick of Tony’s stressed eyes in my direction confirms I’ve failed in my endeavour. My unreasonable need to hurt Miller has resulted in the bloodbath up in the club and it has confirmed Sophia’s suspicions about the true nature of our relationship. ‘No, you weren’t. Story of your life, son,’ Tony sighs. ‘You don’t go all ape-shit on a guy over a woman who’s a bit of fun!’ He reins in his exasperation and frowns, reaching forward to pull Miller’s shirt aside. ‘A puncture wound?’

  Miller shrugs him off and places his glass down. I’m stunned when he actually tweaks its position before he starts to pull at his shirt. ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘Did he have a knife?’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ Miller repeats slowly, leaving Tony tilting his bald head questioningly. ‘Has Sophia gone?’

  ‘Oh, she’s got her hooks in you deep, my boy. Don’t question her loyalty to Charlie. She’s his fucking wife!’

  My teary eyes widen. Sophia’s Charlie’s wife? And she’s in love with Miller? Charlie holds the keys to Miller’s chains. Does he know Sophia’s in love with his Special One? I didn’t think this web of corruption could get any more tangled.

  Tony attempts to gather himself, taking another drink and bracing his hands on the side of the cabinet, head dropped. ‘Our corrupt lives are fucking real, boy, and attached to our arses for as long as we breathe.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be like that.’ Miller is quiet in his retort, almost uncertain of his own claim. It makes my stomach turn.

  ‘Wake up, son!’ Tony casts his empty glass aside and grabs the tops of Miller’s arms, making him wince, not that Tony acknowledges it. ‘We’ve been over this time and time again. Once you’re in this world, there’s no escaping. You don’t get to leave when it suits you. You’re in it for life or you don’t have a life at all!’

  I cough on nothing as I absorb Tony’s frank clarification. Sophia said it, Miller confirmed it, and now Tony’s reinforcing it. ‘Just because he doesn’t want to fuck for money anymore?’ I pipe up, unable to hold back.

  Miller looks across at me and I expect to be ordered to keep quiet, but I’m stunned to find he looks to Tony, like he wants an answer to my question, too.

  Getting involved with Miller Hart will be his demise.

  It’s not as easy as just quitting.

  The consequences will be shattering.

  Chains. Keys. Life debt.

  I’m about to force my body to stand, an attempt to appear stable and strong, when the door opens again and Sophia breezes in. The intense, difficult atmosphere multiplies by a million. I sit back in my seat while she casts her eyes around, giving everyone in the room a moment of her beady eyes’ time as she draws on her cigarette. I’m even more wary when Cassie appears, too, her perfection reinstated, but she’s looking worried and cautious.

  Sophia saunters over to the drinks cabinet and pushes her way between Miller and Tony, and neither man objects. They step back and give her the room she’s demanding to pour herself a drink. She takes her time, her posture and actions screaming supremacy, then turns to face Miller. ‘Quite a violent reaction for someone who’s supposedly only fucking her.’ Sophia’s European accent makes the threat in her tone almost sexy.

  My eyes close briefly, guilt digging their hateful claws into me again. I’m so fucking stupid. One eye peeks carefully, finding Miller looking down at her, his expression blank, his body deathly still. His time hiding me is up. His time to think of the best way to deal with this is up.

  Because of my rash actions.

  ‘I only ever make love to that woman.’ He looks at me, nearly crippling me with the love in his eyes. I want to run into his arms, stand by his side and face her together, but my useless muscles are failing me again. When Miller returns his eyes to Sophia, the coldness of his blank expression returns instantly. ‘I only ever worship her.’

  The shock on her face is obvious. She’s trying to conceal it, taking a sip of her drink and then a puff on her cigarette to assist, but I can see it crystal clear from all of the way over here.

  ‘Do you let her touch you?’ she asks.

  ‘Yes.’

  Her breathing increases, a little anger now surfacing through the shock. ‘Do you let her kiss you?’

  ‘Yes.’ His jaw ticks, his lip curling into a snarl. ‘She can do whatever the hell she wants with me. And I’ll accept it all willingly.’ He leans into her. ‘I’ll even fucking beg for it.’

  My heart explodes into a million shards of badly timed contentment, making my already unstable mind dizzier. Sophia is rendered speechless, taking quick, frantic sips of her drink and pulling on her cigarette in between. Her powerful composure has been obliterated by Miller’s confession. She suspected this, so it shouldn’t be a shock. Or did she underestimate the situation? Think it was something in nothing?

  How very wrong she was.

  Remaining a quiet spectator to the events unfolding, I cast my eyes over to Tony and see raw dread on his face. Then I look to Cassie and see shock that equals Sophia’s.

  ‘I can’t protect you from him, Miller,’ Sophia says calmly, though the edge of irritation is still so very apparent. She’s warning him.

  ‘I never for a moment expected you to, but know one thing. I’m no longer at your beck and call. We’re leaving,’ Miller declares, moving away from Sophia. He’s coming at me fast and determined, but I haven’t a hope of making it to my feet. I’m a shaking mess. His hand extends towards me and my eyes flick up to his, seeing hard reassurance in his blues. ‘Do you think there will be sparks?’ he whispers, his mouth seeming to move in slow motion, his eyes sparkling and raining strength and hope all over me. I accept his offering, keeping our stares locked while he pulls me to my fee
t. Reaching to my hair, he pushes a few strands behind my ears gently, then scans my face. He’s in no rush. There’s no urgency to remove us from the horrific situation. He’s simply content with making me melt before him under the penetrating effect of his eyes. He kisses me. Softy. Slowly. Meaningfully. It’s a sign, a declaration. And I can do no more than accept. ‘Let’s go home, sweet girl.’ My nape is claimed and I’m guided to his office door, the anxiety beginning to drain from me with the knowledge that we’ll soon be gone from here – away from this cruel world. For tonight, we can shut the door. And I hope tomorrow never comes so we don’t have to open it.

  ‘You’ll regret this, Miller.’ Sophia’s even tone halts Miller in his tracks, subsequently halting mine, too.

  ‘My life up to this point has been one big regret,’ Miller states clearly, his voice even. ‘Livy is the only good thing that’s happened to me, and I have no fucking intention of letting go of her.’ He slowly turns, taking me with him. Sophia has restored her air of superiority, Tony still looks pensive, and when I look at Cassie, I see tears in her eyes as she watches Miller. I study her for a few moments, and she must feel my stare burning into her because she flicks a glance at me.

  She smiles.

  It’s not a smug smile, hardly even there, in fact. It appears to be a sad smile of recognition, but after a few seconds, I realise it’s a comforting smile. Then she nods very slightly and substantiates my thoughts. She comprehends it all.

  Sophia laughs wickedly, snapping both mine and Cassie’s attention back to her couture-decorated frame. ‘I could stop all of this in a heartbeat, Miller. You know that. I’ll tell him she’s gone. She’s nothing to you.’

  I’m insulted, but Miller remains calm. ‘No thank you.’

  ‘It’s a phase.’

  ‘It’s not a phase,’ Miller counters coldly.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Sophia retorts confidently, waving a condemning hand at me. Her reproachful eyes stab at me harshly, making me shrink a little. ‘You know only one thing, Miller Hart. You know how to make women scream with pleasure, but you don’t know what it means to really care.’ She smirks. ‘You’re the Special One. You. Only. Know. How. To. Fuck.’