One Night: Unveiled

  ‘No buts,’ William warns, stopping me.

  I snap my mouth shut and shoot him an indignant look. Not that it even minutely dents the hard authority he’s exuding.

  ‘You’ll do as you’re told for once and trust we’ll do right by your grandmother.’

  ‘She’s delicate,’ I protest, making to exit the car again. I don’t know why. I’m not stupid enough to think I’m going anywhere.

  ‘Back in.’ William almost laughs, pushing me down to the seat. Then Miller joins forces with him, pulling me across the seat until I’m a prisoner in his arms.

  ‘Hey,’ I gripe, wriggling in a futile effort to escape.

  ‘Really, Olivia?’ Miller grumbles tiredly. ‘After everything we’ve been through today, are you honestly going to hit me with your sass?’ He squeezes me in. ‘There is no choice here. You’re coming home and you’re going to do it without a fuss, sweet girl. Shut the door, Anderson.’

  My stunned eyes look to William, who shrugs on a smile and goes to shut the door, but a well-manicured hand rested on his forearm halts him. He turns to find Gracie’s pleading face. He visibly sags and turns a similar pleading face to Miller. I complete the party and do exactly the same. My poor, exhausted man has three sets of beseeching eyes rooted on him. I can’t even feel guilty for the defeated look that replaces his sheer determination to have me to himself. He releases me and flops back in his seat on a sigh. ‘Just . . . fucking . . . perfect,’ he breathes.

  ‘I need to see her, Miller.’ Gracie steps forward and William doesn’t stop her. ‘And I need Olivia with me. I promise you, I’ll never ask for another thing. Just give me this.’

  I gulp down my pain and watch as he slowly starts to nod. ‘I’m coming, too,’ he states, short and sharp, ensuring all involved know it’s not up for discussion. ‘We’ll meet you there. Drive on, Ted.’ Miller refuses to look at me.

  ‘Certainly, sir,’ Ted confirms, looking at me in the rear-view mirror, smiling brightly. ‘With the greatest of pleasure.’

  The door closes next to me and as we pull away, I see William escorting a shaky-looking Gracie over to Tony’s Audi. I don’t waste time trying to prepare for what’s to come once we arrive at Nan’s. Nothing could possibly work.

  I don’t want to go in. I know William and Gracie haven’t arrived yet. Not even a stunt driver could beat Ted in London traffic. I’m just standing on the pavement, staring at the front door, willing Miller to encourage me onward. I know he won’t, though. He’ll leave me forever if he has to, unprepared to make me rush something monumental that I thought would never happen. But it is going to happen. And I really have no idea how to handle it. Should I go in now? Should I prepare her, let her know Gracie is on her way? Or should I wait and take my mother in to see Nan? I really don’t know, but I’m halfway to my decision being made for me when the front door swings open and Gregory appears. It takes a few confused moments to register that he’s not alone, and his companion is neither Nan nor George. It’s Ben.

  ‘Baby girl.’ His greeting rolls out on a gush of relieved air and he moves in fast, taking me in his arms, with not so much as a look at Miller to gain approval or permission. It’s not needed anymore. He squeezes me tightly and I look over his shoulder to see Ben smiling fondly. It doesn’t even fall away when I watch his eyes cast over our cuddling forms to where Miller is standing. ‘Are you OK?’ Greg asks, pulling me from his embrace, scanning my face and wincing at the sight of my cut cheek. I try nodding, knowing speech isn’t something I’m capable of right now, but even my bodily functions are failing me, so Gregory looks to Miller. ‘Is she OK?’

  ‘Perfect,’ he answers, the sound of leather soles beating the path getting closer.

  ‘And you?’ Gregory asks, his question full of genuine concern. ‘Are you OK?’

  Miller answers with the exact same word. ‘Perfect.’

  ‘I’m glad.’ He gives me a small smile and pecks my forehead. ‘William called me.’

  I don’t even flinch. I know that means William has filled Gregory in on . . . everything, my thoughts only confirmed when my best friend lets his eyes slip down to my tummy. He smiles a little but manages to stop himself from saying anything further on that matter. ‘She’s waiting for you.’ He steps to the side, as does Ben, and opens up the route to my grandmother, but I don’t get to proceed with caution, as the sound of a car pulling up to the kerb distracts me.

  I swing around, knowing what I’ll find, and see her tentatively stepping onto the pavement, clutching the top of the open car door. She’s doing what I was a few moments ago, gazing up at the house, looking a little lost and overwhelmed. William joins her and slips a comforting arm around her waist, and she looks up at him, forcing a small smile. He speaks no words, just nods encouragingly, and I watch in fascination as Gracie seems to find a bit of strength from their connection, much like how Miller and I work. Her chest rises slowly and her cheeks puff as she exhales, her fingers flexing on the car door.

  No one is saying a word. The atmosphere is delicate and thick with nerves, and not just mine. Everyone here loves my grandmother dearly. I won’t be silly enough to discount Ben, especially knowing he’s obviously spent some time with Nan. Everyone knows the enormity of what is about to happen. But no one seems to be the one who wants to lead. We’re all just standing on the pavement, waiting for one of us to make the first move, speak, anything to set the wheels in motion.

  But it’s none of us out here.

  ‘Let me through!’ Nan’s demand pulls everybody to face the house. ‘Out of my way!’ Ben and Gregory are virtually tossed aside as she barrels through and lands on the doorstep.

  She’s in a dressing gown, but her hair is perfect. She is perfect.

  She halts on the doorstep, her hand reaching for the wall to offer a little support. I want to run to her, hug her, and tell her everything is OK, but something stops me. She steps forward, her old navy eyes looking past me, down the garden path. ‘Gracie?’ she whispers, visibly trying to focus harder, like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. ‘Gracie, darling, is that you?’ She takes another wobbly step forward, her hand now moving to her face where she covers her mouth with her palm.

  My teeth clench from my tight jaw and my vision becomes compromised by the onset of tears. I sniffle hopelessly, ignoring Miller’s hand around my waist, and turn to see my mother. William is holding her up and she’s clinging to him for dear life. ‘Mum,’ she sobs, tears bursting from her eyes.

  A painful weep yanks my attention back to Nan, and I panic when she stutters on her feet, astonishment mixed with happiness rampant on her old face. ‘My beautiful girl.’ She begins to fold to the floor, her frail body not able to keep her on her feet any longer.

  ‘Nan!’ My heart misses too many beats and I rush over to her, but I’m beaten to it.

  Gracie intercepts me and seizes Nan, folding slowly to the floor with her. ‘Thank you, God, for bringing her back to me,’ Nan sobs, throwing her arms around my mother and clinging on tightly. They’re locked together, their cries muffled, buried in each other’s necks. Everyone leaves them huddled on the ground together, reunited after too many lost years. I spend a few moments casting a look to everyone here, seeing every set of eyes watery. Everyone is choked by the overwhelming reunion. I feel like the final piece of my broken world has just clicked into place.

  Finally, I look to Miller and he nods his understanding, taking me gently by the neck. They need their time together. Just them. And truly, deeply, I know my spunky nan will be just fine without me for a little longer.

  And truly, deeply, I know that Miller will not.

  Chapter 24

  ‘Come here.’ Miller stoops to collect me in his arms when we enter the stairwell, but I tenaciously brush him off.

  ‘You’re wiped out,’ I object, ignoring the hint of irritation that flashes across his face. ‘I’ll walk.’ I begin to take the steps slowly so his tired body can keep up, but I’m soon swiped from my feet on a
yelp. ‘Miller!’

  ‘You’ll let me worship you, Olivia,’ he practically snaps. ‘That will make me better.’ I relent easily. Anything he needs.

  Even footsteps echo around the concrete shaft and I settle my arms around his shoulders, studying his face as he carries me up the ten flights. There’s no sign of exertion or strain, only level breathing and his usual impassive beauty. I can’t tear my eyes away. I’m reliving the moment in time when he first carried me up these stairs, when I knew nothing about this dark man, yet was taken by him to the point of obsession. Nothing has changed. My fascination will never die, and all of his particular ways are welcome in my life.

  Forever.

  For eternity.

  And beyond that, too.

  Miller once told me he was on his way to hell. That only I could save him.

  We’ve been there together.

  But we’ve clawed our way out together.

  I smile to myself when he takes a curious glimpse out of the corner of his eye, finding me staring at him intently. ‘What are you thinking?’ he asks, returning his attention forward as we reach his front door. I’m placed on my feet with the utmost care before he opens the door and gestures me inside. I pad slowly into his flat and soak up the surroundings. I don’t question the sense of belonging. ‘I’m thinking that I’m glad to be home.’ I smile when I hear a quiet hitch of surprised breath from behind me, but remain in position, happily reminding myself of his palatial, perfect flat.

  ‘You don’t have a choice in the matter,’ he snorts, blatantly forcing indifference when I know it means the world to him.

  ‘We’ll need a nursery.’ I’m poking him, and I’m going to take a huge amount of pleasure from his reaction when he finally registers that babies equal mess. Now that there’s room in his mind for stuff other than depressing heartache, I expect that realisation may come soon.

  ‘I concur,’ he replies simply, making my smile widen.

  ‘And there will be baby paraphernalia everywhere all the time.’

  He’s not so quick to counter my poke this time. ‘Elaborate.’

  I surrender to the overwhelming enticement of catching what I know will be mild panic settling on his face and turn to relish in it, ridding my face of all amusement. ‘Nappies, romper suits, bottles, powdered milk all over the worktop in your kitchen.’ I bite down on my lip when the panic intensifies before my eyes. He rests his hands casually in his trouser pockets and relaxes his standing position, attempting to disguise it. He fails terribly. ‘The list is endless,’ I add.

  He shrugs nonchalantly on a pout. ‘They’re tiny little things. I can’t imagine he or she will cause too much disruption.’

  I could squeeze him to death. He clearly needs it. ‘Really, Miller?’

  ‘Well there will be no powdered milk because you’ll be breast-feeding. And we’ll have places for all of the other stuff. You’re creating issues.’

  ‘Your perfect world is about to explode into a million pieces, Miller Hart.’

  He gives me that glorious dimpled grin, eyes sparkling and all. Then I smile as he stalks towards me and tackles me, carrying me through the lounge with my front pinned against his chest. ‘My perfect world has never been more perfect and light, Olivia Taylor.’ He hits me with a hard kiss, and I laugh into his mouth. ‘And it’s only going to get brighter, sweet girl.’

  ‘I concur,’ I agree as he takes us into his bedroom, and yelp when he launches me from his arms. I land on his perfect bed, sending his decorative cushions sailing in every direction. I’m a little stunned, even more so when Miller catapults himself towards me, fully dressed. ‘What are you doing?’ I laugh, accommodating his silent demand and opening up to him when he pushes my thighs apart.

  He starts yanking at the sheets around us, pulling them out of position, bunching them into creased balls here and there. I can do no more than watch him in action, squealing in shock and delight when he starts rolling us across the bed, tangling us up in the white cotton.

  ‘Miller!’ I laugh, losing sight of him and the rest of the room when I become buried beneath the material. I’m all caught up, the sheets tugging tightly every time I try to move, Miller laughing and cursing as he tries to unravel us but only ending up knotting us more.

  I’m being rolled repeatedly. I’m underneath him, then above him. We’re bound tightly together by the bedding, blind and laughing.

  ‘I’m stuck!’ I chuckle, trying to kick my legs out. ‘I can’t move!’

  ‘Bollocks,’ he curses, spinning us over again, but he goes the wrong way and my stomach drops when there’s suddenly no bed under us.

  ‘Oh!’ I cry as we hit the floor on an almighty thud. I’m laughing properly now, feeling Miller tugging and pulling at the sheets as he tries to locate me.

  ‘Where the hell are you?’ he grumbles.

  All I can see is cotton. Everywhere is brilliant white cotton, but I can smell him and feel him, and when the sheets are whipped from my face on a polite curse, I can see him, too. He takes my breath away.

  ‘Falling out of bed is becoming a habit,’ he whispers, circling his nose with mine before saturating my senses with a full-blown kiss that’s loaded with a lifetime’s worth of love and a ton of exquisite desire. ‘You taste divine.’

  Our tongues dance delicately together, our hands wander wildly, and our eyes remain open, locked and burning with fiery passion. Once again, it is just me and Miller in our own little bubble of happiness, like so many times before, except this time there’s no cruel world to face outside this flat.

  It’s done with.

  Our one night is now one lifetime. And way, way beyond that, too.

  ‘I love your bones, Miller Hart,’ I mumble into his mouth, smiling when I feel his lips stretch.

  ‘That makes me very happy.’ He pulls away and carries out a string of motions, blinking lazily, parting his lips just so, and watching me with hooded, intense eyes. It’s like he knows that each and every one of those characteristics contributed to my original fascination and he’s reminding me of them. No need. I close my eyes and I see them. I keep my eyes open and I see them. My dreams are my reality, but now it is all good. There’s no hiding anymore. I can have him day, night, in dreams, and for real. He belongs to me.

  ‘You’re creasing my suit, sweet girl.’ He’s straight-faced. It makes me laugh loudly. Of all the things for him to be concerned about now, it’s his fine threads. ‘What’s got you so tickled?’

  ‘You!’ I chuckle. ‘Just you.’

  ‘Excellent,’ he concludes sharply, pushing himself up. ‘That makes me happy, too.’ My hands are grasped and I’m pulled up into a sitting position. ‘I want to do something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Shhh,’ he hushes me as he encourages me to my feet, tugging on my hand gently. ‘You’ll come with me.’ He lightly takes my nape and my eyes close, savouring the familiar feel of his touch on my skin, the heat spurting from the source and creeping across my flesh. From my neck to my toes, I’m immersed in the comfort and warmth his touch provokes. ‘Earth to Olivia,’ he whispers in my ear, opening my eyes.

  I smile through my attempted narrowed eyes and let him guide me to his studio. My peace only multiplies by a million when we enter the room. ‘What are we doing in here?’

  ‘Someone once told me that it would be more satisfying to paint something I find beautiful in the flesh.’ He guides me to his couch and pushes me down, lifting my legs and arranging them the full length of the sofa. ‘I’d like to test that theory.’

  ‘You’re going to paint me?’ I’m slightly taken aback. He paints landscapes and architecture.

  ‘Yes,’ he answers decisively, leaving me struck dumb on the couch. He wanders over to an easel, pulling it into the centre of the room. ‘Remove your clothes, sweet girl.’

  ‘Naked?’

  ‘Correct.’ He doesn’t look at me.

  I shrug to myself. ‘Have you ever painted a living object?’ I ask, sitting up and re
aching down to push my jeans from my legs. What I mean is, has he ever painted a person, and when he flicks smiling eyes to me, I note my question has been decrypted and he knows exactly what I mean.

  ‘I’ve never painted a person, Olivia.’

  I try not to let my relief be known, but my face fails me and I’m smiling before I can stop it. ‘Is it wrong that that pleases me immensely?’

  ‘No,’ he laughs quietly, taking a blank canvas that’s propped against the wall and placing it on the easel.

  I’m speaking to him and watching him over the back of the sofa that’s facing out towards the view, away from the room. How can he paint me when I’m concealed?

  I’m removing my top when he approaches me, and I expect him to turn the couch so it’s facing inward, but instead he helps me out of my underwear, slowly, and wrestles with my body until I find my bare bottom resting on the back of the squidgy piece of furniture with my feet on the seat. My naked back is exposed to the room, and I’m looking out across London’s beautiful skyline, only the lights of the buildings illuminating the wonderful architecture. ‘It would be far better to do this in the daytime,’ I say, flicking my hair over my shoulders and placing my hands on the back of the couch, on either side of my hips. ‘You’ll see the buildings far clearer.’

  I shiver when the heat of his breath meets my skin, and soon after that, his lips. He kisses his way across my back, up the centre of my spine, and to the hollow beneath my ear. ‘If it was light, you wouldn’t be the main subject.’ He takes my head and turns it until I’m gazing into sharp blues. ‘You are all I see.’ He kisses me tenderly, humming as he does, and I relax under the soft motions of his attentive lips. ‘Day or night, I see only you.’

  I say nothing. I let him shower my face with kisses before he turns my face back towards the window and leaves me sitting on the back of the sofa, naked and completely unbothered by it. I try to admire the glowing landscape of London, something that I can usually lose myself in with ease, but hearing Miller busy behind me is far too distracting. So I take a little peek over my shoulder, finding him collecting an array of brushes and paints, his tall body slightly bent, his disobedient curl tickling his forehead. I smile when he blows it away, unable to brush it with a hand because they’re full of artist’s tools. He positions everything he needs and removes his suit jacket before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, but everything else is in place – his waistcoat, his tie.