One Night: Denied

  ‘What’s going on?’ I ask, casting my eyes around the club, looking for . . . I’m not sure.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Gregory shrugs, not in the least bit concerned.

  But then the club is suddenly filled with music again, and everyone seems to sag around me, including Gregory, who starts laughing. ‘I think the DJ might be getting sacked.’ He turns to me, his smile dropping when he registers my blank face and static form. I can’t move. ‘Livy, what’s up?’

  The words to the track soak through the haze of alcohol, punching me in the stomach . . . hard. ‘Enjoy the Silence’. My eyes close.

  ‘Livy?’ Gregory shakes me a little, prompting my eyes to fly open and shoot around the club. ‘Olivia?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I force a smile, trying to appear fine, but my heart is crashing against my breastbone, set on fighting its way from my chest. He’s here. ‘I need the toilet.’

  ‘I’ll come.’ He starts leading me off the floor.

  ‘No, honestly. Get the drinks. I’ll meet you at the bar.’

  Gregory relents easily, letting me find my way to the toilets alone while he orders more drinks. But I don’t head for the ladies’. I divert once I’m out of Gregory’s sight and hurry towards the front of the club, taking the stairs fast, down to the maze of corridors beneath Ice. William told me to run, but I doubt he wanted me moving towards the danger. I’m a woman possessed as I follow the passageway, taking too many wrong turns and shouting my frustration when I land in front of a storeroom. I can still hear the music – the words distressing me, reminding me, as I rush back the way I came and try a different route. The sight of the metal keypad outside Miller’s office fills me with relief and dread all at once as I charge for it. I have no clue what the code is or what I’ll find . . . or what I’ll do if I find anything – if I find him.

  I don’t need the code. The door is ajar and one tiny push swings it open.

  Internal fireworks explode.

  He’s standing in the middle of the room, suit adorned and expressionless, just watching me as I hover on the threshold of his office. My eyes instantly fill with tears as I breathe erratically and watch him watching me. My knees feel weak. The music is relentless. I drink him in, his dark suit pristine, his hair seeming longer, the soft waves flicking out from below his earlobes. There are no words, just intense eye contact. There’s no facial expression or body language to tell me what he’s thinking. He doesn’t need to tell me what he’s thinking, though. His eyes are doing that. And they’re angry. He’s been watching the club’s CCTV footage. He’s been watching me being hit on by countless men. I take a worried pull of breath. He’s been watching me encourage and accept it.

  ‘Did you let any of them taste you?’ He steps forward, and I instinctively step back, wary.

  This isn’t going to be a happy reunion. He has a nerve to ask such a question after he’s been in another country with another woman. My shock from his presence is turning into irritation fast. ‘That’s none of your business.’ He’s jealous again, and this gives me an unreasonable thrill.

  His perfect jaw is ticking. ‘When you’re in my club, it’s my business.’

  ‘It’ll never be your business again.’

  ‘Wrong.’

  I shake my head as I step back further, hating my uncooperative body for staggering slightly. ‘I’m right.’

  He runs displeased eyes up and down my tight, short-dressed form. ‘You’re drunk.’

  I ignore his accusation, remembering something. ‘Which means you can’t fuck me.’

  ‘Shut up, Olivia!’

  ‘Because you want me to remember every kiss, every touch, every—’

  ‘Livy!’

  ‘Except I don’t want to remember every moment. I want to forget them all.’

  His neck veins bulge to bursting point. ‘Don’t say things you don’t mean.’

  ‘I mean it!’

  ‘Shut up!’ he roars, sending me back a few more paces, his ferocity stunning me into silence. I gather myself fast, but my wide eyes are undoubtedly displaying all of the shock I’m feeling. Shock that I came here, shock that he’s here, shock that he’s so fuming mad. He has no right to be, despite my provoking him. I knew what I was doing. And he knows that, too.

  ‘You told Tony to let me in if I came, didn’t you?’ It’s suddenly very clear. He anticipated this. ‘You told Tony to monitor me.’

  ‘I have over two hundred cameras in this club to do that.’

  ‘How dare you!’ I spit, feeling my blood heat with rage, rather than the usual desire when I’m within touching distance of Miller Hart. I thought my presence would shock him, but no. He fully expected it.

  He steps forward again, but I keep my distance. I’m now in the corridor, not that it deters him. His long strides have him in front of me in seconds, his hand taking my nape and guiding me to his desk determinedly. I’m pushed down into his office chair, where I’m confronted with image after image of me in his club – all with men hovering around me. While I’m ashamed of myself, I’m also quietly delighted. The whole point was to torture him the only way I know how. And it looks like I’ve succeeded. The apparently emotionless man is furious. Good. I just didn’t expect to be around when he watched the footage.

  ‘There are five dead men on these screens,’ he seethes, leaning down next to me, smashing a button on his remote control. The images all change, but they’re all still me . . . and men. ‘There are six on these ones.’ He proceeds to flick through the footage, adding up the men he’s going to be slaughtering. ‘Does that make you happy?’

  ‘They never tasted me,’ I say quietly.

  ‘They want to! And you’re doing nothing to discourage it!’ he yells next to me, making me jump in his chair. I can feel the fury pouring from him. He’s right. His temper isn’t something I want to toy with. ‘Where’s your fucking self-respect?’

  Those words ricochet around my head like a bullet. ‘My self-respect?’ I shout, flying up from the chair, letting my bag tumble to the floor and my fear of his temper tumble away. I feel pretty lethal myself right now. ‘My self-respect?’ My palms collide viciously with his chest, sending his tall frame staggering back. My strength shocks me. ‘My fucking self-respect!’

  His eyes have widened slightly at my tiny fuming body and foul mouth.

  ‘You’re a joke!’ I shout in his face, resisting the urge to lash his cheek with my palm. But I do smack him in the chest again. This time my wrists are seized and I’m swung around, my back crashing to his body and my arms secured tightly. His mouth is at my ear, breathing hot, angry bursts of air. I hate the desire ripping through my anger. I hate it.

  ‘The joke isn’t on me, Olivia Taylor.’ He pushes his lips to my cheek and then bites down, leaving me whimpering in desperation. ‘The joke is on you. You’re the one fighting a battle you cannot win, sweet girl.’

  ‘I’m stronger than you give me credit for,’ I breathe, clenching my eyes shut, knowing my words carry no strength whatsoever.

  ‘I’m banking on it.’ His teeth clamp down on my earlobe, sending my backside shooting back and colliding with his groin. I cry out. He growls. ‘I need you to be strong for me.’ I’m spun around and grabbed behind the thighs, then yanked up to straddle his lean hips with one easy pull. He thrusts me up against his office door, one of his hands keeping me secured by the back of my thigh, the other slamming into the wood by my head. I don’t even flinch. Nothing will power through the lust attacking every fibre of my being.

  His blue eyes search mine for a few moments, taking in every detail of my face, before he crashes our mouths together on a yell. I accept his violent kiss. My hands are a knotted jumble in his mess of waves, my body arching into him as he pushes me up the door on continuous moans and muffled words. While the contact is in one sense soothing me, in another it’s frightening me, bringing back too many bad
memories of our hotel encounter. I start to wriggle beneath him, pulling at his suit jacket, but he mistakes my actions for equal impatience and fights free of his jacket, not breaking our fused lips.

  ‘Miller.’ I turn my face, yet he manages to find my lips again within a nanosecond. Things are getting out of hand and panic’s beginning to flood me. ‘Miller!’

  ‘You taste so fucking good.’

  ‘Miller, please!’

  ‘Fuck!’ he barks, finding the strength he needs to release me, letting me slide down the door before he steps away and wipes his brow with his cuff. He looks dazed. We’re both panting and sweating.

  ‘This isn’t happening.’ I run and snatch my bag from the floor, then hurry to the door, thinking I need to calm down before I find Gregory.

  ‘Olivia!’

  I swing around, finding him wrestling his jacket on. ‘No!’ I scream. ‘This is it, Miller!’ He didn’t just worship me. If I let this go further, there will be no worshipping. There will be only fucking. He’s been fighting his instincts all this time, and now he’s exhausted, desperate. I take my membership card for Ice from my bag and throw it at him, and then watch as he follows its journey to the floor at his feet. ‘I said you’d never get to taste me again, and I meant it!’

  ‘I just tasted you, and I want more. I want more hours. A lot fucking more.’

  ‘You’re ruining my life!’

  ‘You merely existed before.’ His words are arrogant but his tone soft. ‘I brought you back to life, Livy.’

  ‘Yes, for another man to taste.’ I get no thrill from the look of horror on his face – none at all. There will be no other man. I’m returning full force to solitary confinement because what I’m feeling right now is total devastation. Empty. Lifeless. No man can fix me, not even Miller.

  ‘Take that back now.’ He points a warning finger at me. ‘Take it back!’

  I remain silent, watching his body heave before me.

  ‘I know I’m a fuck-up, Olivia!’ His breathing slows, his arm lowering to his side as he takes a moment to compose himself, pulling gently at his shirt, as if he can smooth his temper the same way he smooths his clothes. ‘I’m on my way to hell.’

  My bottom lip starts to quiver as I watch his crystal-clear eyes freeze over, a coldness settling around his office that slows my heart.

  He steps forward. ‘There’s only one person who can drag me back.’

  I choke on a sob but he’s expressionless now. I’m getting nothing, except those chilly eyes. I don’t like it. Is he asking me for help? The OCD, the freakish manners and uptight attitude. The women, the debasement, the nasty fucking and belts and rules . . .

  No, I can’t see past it all.

  ‘I’m not strong enough to help you,’ I murmur. William’s words are spinning in my head, making me dizzy. Miller really is ruined. ‘You’re too damaged.’

  I run.

  My legs work fast, carrying me away from my distress and a man who I don’t think can be helped at all. By anyone. I navigate the corridors well, my terror fuelling my determination to escape, until I break free of the underground labyrinth of Miller’s club. I’m torn when the exit comes into sight, my head snapping back and forth between that and the openness of the club where Gregory is waiting for me.

  I need to find him. I tear through the crowds, bumping and pushing into bewildered revellers, who curse or shout when I send drinks flying and knock bodies back.

  I spot Gregory. ‘Where have you been?’ he asks as I come to an abrupt halt in front of him, his confused eyes taking in my pale, sweaty face. Handing me a glass cautiously, his concern soon morphs into anger and the drink is withdrawn, his eyes diverting over my shoulders.

  ‘I need to leave,’ I wheeze, grabbing his hand. ‘Please, I need to go.’

  ‘What’s he doing here?’ He discards my drink on the bar and starts pulling me away, making sure he knocks into Miller as we pass, but I’m soon captured by the wrist and yanked away from Gregory. ‘Get your fucking hands off her,’ Gregory growls, his body starting to shake. ‘Now!’

  ‘I’ll ask you to do the same thing,’ Miller retorts on a menacing whisper, tugging at my arm. ‘We’re not done.’

  ‘Yes, we are.’ I wrench myself free and push Gregory onward, knowing Miller won’t give in. Ben approaches, looking concerned, but soon backs off, a cautious look on his face when he clocks Miller following behind. And then there’s Tony, who tries to intercept Miller and gets practically thrown to the side for his trouble.

  ‘Miller, son, this isn’t the time or place,’ Tony seethes, looking nervously around the club.

  ‘Fuck you!’ Miller spits.

  All I can hear is shouting. Miller is cursing. Tony is cursing. Gregory is cursing. Anger is drenching the happy club atmosphere around me, making my determination to escape stronger.

  The doorman gives us a wide berth as we throw ourselves out of the club, his eyes widening when he sees who’s coming after us. ‘Don’t let her leave!’ Miller roars, prompting the doorman to make chase. He catches me and tosses me up onto his big shoulder, but I’m too stunned to voice my shock, still hearing men swearing.

  Explicit language is being fired everywhere, my view of events surrounding me is hampered, leaving me wriggling to free myself from the severe grip of the doorman.

  ‘Give her to me!’ Miller’s voice is dripping with threat, and I feel hands at my waist trying to pull me down.

  ‘Dave, put her down!’ Tony yells.

  ‘I will if you all give me some fucking space!’ the doorman bellows, taking me away from the grappling of hands, over to the other side of the road. He lowers me to my feet and gives me the once-over. ‘Are you okay, darling?’

  I half-heartedly pull my dress back into place, feeling disorientated and exposed. ‘Sure,’ I murmur, but then I’m seized by the waist again in a fierce clinch. Internal lightning bolts strike me hard, and as I look up, I see Gregory a few yards away. Miller has me, and the fear of his touch sends me into a deranged mess of flailing body parts. ‘Let go of me!’

  ‘Never!’

  Gregory’s at my side in an instant. I’m being yanked from one direction to the other, both men yelling, both men persistent. This is becoming a battle of the egos now.

  ‘Both of you stop!’ I scream, my shriek having no effect whatsoever, my body still flying from one man to the other, until Miller curls an arm around my waist and hauls me up to his chest. My face is level with his, and the first thing I notice is the lethal danger in his eyes as he focuses past me. There’s no sight of the deep twinkle that always hypnotised me. This is another man. Not the man disguised as a gentleman or the loving, worshipping Miller. This is someone else.

  ‘I’ll fucking kill you!’ Miller bellows, earning a right hook to his jaw from Gregory, the fist skimming my cheek to find its target. He staggers back, and Gregory takes Miller’s momentary daze as an opportunity to reclaim me, pulling me from his hold. But he doesn’t hold tight enough, and I fall to the ground in a heap of limp muscle, smacking my head on the kerb as I land.

  ‘Shit!’ Pain sears through me, making me a little dizzy and even more disorientated. I glance up to see Miller tackle Gregory to the pavement, both men rolling around like animals, fists flying, curses piercing the night air, until Tony and Dave intervene and drag them apart.

  And the whole time, I’m crumpled on the ground in a pathetic mess, my head pouring blood, my eyes pouring tears. Both men are so consumed by the determination to win, they’ve lost sight of what they’re fighting for. Now I’m injured, blood’s gushing down my face, and I’ve still not been noticed as they wrestle in the holds of Tony and Dave.

  ‘Stay away from her,’ Gregory snarls at Miller, letting up on his persistent struggle against Tony.

  ‘Only when I’m fucking dead!’

  ‘Then I’ll fucking kill you!’ Greg
ory breaks free and launches himself at Miller, taking him and the doorman to the concrete. I wince at the sounds of hard knuckles connecting with flesh, blood spraying, and clothes ripping. But even though Gregory is well built, Miller clearly has the upper hand, showing the fighting skills of someone trained.

  I’ve seen him show this kind of punishment before, except it was a limp bag of sand hanging from the rafters of a gym that was subjected to his brutality. Not my treasured friend. Both of them have forgotten about me, neither noticing that I’m injured and distressed on the pavement. Their rationality has been clouded by caveman behaviour and bashing horns.

  In my dazed state, I struggle to my feet while the spectacle continues. My steps forward are tentative. I need to stop this, but then my arm is taken and I’m being pulled away. I look up, seeing Tony focused, with purpose directing me to the road. He flags a taxi down and makes to put me inside.

  ‘Tony, I need to stop them.’

  ‘I’ll sort it. You’re best off out of the way,’ he snaps harshly, encouraging me into the cab.

  ‘Please stop them,’ I beg as he slams the door.

  He nods, a nod that I find reassuring as he leans into the window and hands the driver a twenty. ‘Take her to A and E.’ And then he’s gone, stalking away, rampant with fury. As the driver pulls away from the horror scene I’ve caused, he eyes me in his rear-view mirror, prompting me to reach up and feel the top of my head. I wince, tears continuing to fall, more from despair than pain.

  ‘Are you okay, sweetheart?’ the taxi driver asks, looking concerned.

  ‘I’m fine, honestly.’ I rummage through my purse for a tissue but give up when one’s handed through the small hole in the glass. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No problem. Let’s get you to the hospital.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I murmur pitifully, resting back in the seat and watching the blurred lights of London by night zoom past the window.

  The driver drops me off at A&E and gives me his mobile number to call him as soon as I’m done. After checking myself in, I sit among the masses of Saturday night drunks, all injured, some ranting, some throwing up.