I stand abruptly, forcing Miller back on his heels. His steel-blue gaze regards me closely as I try to pull a valid claim together, something to put his claim to shame. It’s quite easy. ‘I didn’t feel very safe when I was being chased down out there,’ I yell, throwing my arm out to the side to point at the door.

‘You shouldn’t have left without me.’ He stands and holds my hips, keeping me in place, then hunkers down, unleashing his curl and sinking into my angry eyes with worried blue ones. ‘Promise you’ll never go anywhere alone.’

‘Why?’

‘Just promise me, Olivia. Please don’t hit me with your sass.’

My sass is the only thing holding me up right now. I’m angry but frightened. I feel safe but exposed. ‘Please tell me why.’

His eyes close, clearly trying to gather some patience. ‘An interferer,’ he whispers on a sigh, his whole body deflating but his grip of my h*ps firming up to steady me when I wobble on a gulp. ‘Now promise.’

My eyes are wide and I’m frightened, no words coming to me.

‘Olivia, please, I beg you.’

‘Why? Who’s the interferer and why are they following me?’

He holds my eyes, speaking to me through the intensity of his gaze as well as his words. ‘I don’t know, but whoever it is can obviously predict my next move.’

His next move? Realisation sucker-punches me in the gut. ‘You haven’t stopped?’ I gasp.

It’s not as easy as just quitting.

His clients. They’ve all had him at the drop of a hat and a few thousand quid. Not any more, and it’s obvious that some won’t give him up easily. Everyone wants what they can’t have and now, because of me, he’s even more unobtainable.

‘I’ve not officially quit, Olivia. I know the upset this will cause. I need to do this right.’

It’s abruptly very clear. ‘They’ll hate me.’ Cassie hates me, and she’s not even a client.

He huffs an agreeable puff of sarcastic air. Then he sinks into me with reassuring eyes. ‘I’m not sleeping with anyone else.’ He articulates the words slowly and precisely, a desperate attempt to make himself clear, and I don’t doubt for a moment that he’s telling me the truth. ‘Olivia, I’ve not tasted anyone or let anyone taste me. Tell me you believe me.’

‘I believe you.’ I don’t hesitate. My faith is profound, despite my muddle, with no evidence except Miller’s say-so. I have no explanation for why this might be, but something deep and powerful is guiding me. It’s instinct, and instinct has served me well up to this point. I’m sticking with it. ‘I believe you,’ I affirm again.

‘Thank you.’ He takes me in his arms and hugs me with the most incredible amount of relief. I’m confused and shocked. Women scorned and following me? They can predict his next move. They know he’s going to quit and they don’t want him to.

‘I have a request,’ he breathes into my neck, his hands skating every inch of my back.

‘What?’

‘Never stop loving me.’

I shake my head, wondering if he recalls making that request last night when alcohol and tiredness were consuming him, and that makes me wonder whether he recalls my reply. ‘Never.’ My confirmation is as resolute as it was before sleep took us last night, despite my short delay in delivering it.

Chapter Eighteen

Nan’s waiting on the doorstep when we pull up outside the house, arms crossed over her bosom and guarded sapphire eyes set firmly on Miller. I check for a tapping slipper as she follows our path to the house, anything to avoid the risk of meeting her gaze. She may have been understanding and compassionate on the telephone last night, but I don’t mistake that as being the end of it. We’re face to face now. There’s no escaping. She’ll be pouncing on Miller, and judging by his quiet thoughtfulness since we left his apartment, he’s fully expecting it.

His warm palm slides onto my neck as we approach and begins massaging gently, his attempt to rub the nerves out of me. He’s wasting his time. ‘Mrs Taylor,’ Miller says formally, bringing us to a stop.

‘Hmmm,’ she hums, not relenting on her threatening glare. ‘It’s past nine.’ She’s speaking to me now but still holding Miller in place with suspicious eyes. ‘You’ll be late.’

‘I’m—’

‘Olivia isn’t going to work today,’ Miller cuts me off. ‘Her boss has agreed to give her the day off.’

‘Oh, really?’ Nan asks, grey eyebrows high in surprise. I feel like I should be the one explaining, but instead I’m a spare part between these two while Miller continues to speak.

‘Yes, I’m taking her out for the day. A bit of respite and quality time together.’

I find it easy to suck back the condescending laugh that’s threatening. Miller insisted that I needed a break, and the opportunity to spend a whole day with him is rare and should be seized with both hands. But I’m not naive enough to believe that that’s the only reason.

Miller looks down at me with a little reassurance in his gaze. ‘Go and take a shower.’

‘Okay,’ I say reluctantly, knowing there’s no avoiding leaving Miller to handle Nan on his own. His insistence that I didn’t have time to shower at his apartment this morning now makes sense. It gives him the perfect opportunity to speak with Nan while I’m out of the way.

‘Go,’ he encourages me softly. ‘I’ll be here.’

I nod, nibbling on my lip, not in any rush to part company with them. In fact, I’d like to turn, run, and take Miller with me. Nan subtly cocks her head, her way of saying scoot. There’s no avoiding the inevitable, but if it wasn’t for Miller’s desire to apologise, then I wouldn’t now be taking the stairs slowly and leaving them behind to talk. I’ve given Miller the low-down on my conversation with my grandmother last night, and he smiled fondly when I relayed what Nan had told me about special love. But Nan doesn’t know the gruesome details, and it has to remain that way.

I glance over my shoulder when I reach the top of the stairs, finding them watching me, neither prepared to speak until I’m out of earshot. Nan is radiating authority and my finicky, fine Miller is oozing respect. It’s an amusing sight. ‘Chop-chop,’ Miller calls on a mild grin. He finds my worry amusing? Rolling my eyes on an exasperated sigh, I resign myself to the fact there’s nothing I can do.

I take myself into the bathroom and shower in record time. The water is cool, but I’m not prepared to wait until it’s more tolerable, and the conditioner barely touches my hair before I’m rinsing it off. My mind has plenty of things to focus on, all unpleasant and worrying, but it’s hijacked by images of Nan’s finger waving in Miller’s face and her asking prying questions that I hope to God he can wriggle out of answering.

Flinging a towel around my cold, sopping body, I dart across the landing to get dressed, listening briefly for heated words – Nan’s mainly – before I charge into my bedroom and throw my towel to the side.

‘Well, hello.’

I jump back against the door, my hand clutching my heart. ‘Jesus!’

Miller’s sitting on my bed, phone to his ear, with a devilish grin on his perfect face. He doesn’t look like he’s just been verbally terrorised. ‘Apologies,’ he says into the phone, eyes on me. ‘Something’s just come up.’ Clicking to end the call, he lets his phone slide to the centre of his palm while he taps his knee pensively with his fingertips. ‘Cold?’