Unveiled (Page 39)

‘Miller, darling, you know how I feel about you.’

I swallow my breath and battle to prevent myself choking on it.

‘I know, Sophia.’ Miller’s reply is soft and accepting. It makes me feel nauseous.

‘Then why have you been avoiding me?’ she asks, equally as gentle. My mind is quickly building up the scene on the other end of this line. And I really don’t like what I’m picturing.

‘I needed a time-out.’

‘From me?’

My bum lifts from the chair until I’m standing, waiting for Miller’s response to that. I hear him sigh, and I definitely hear the chink of glass on glass. He’s pouring a drink. ‘From everything.’

‘The other women, I accept. But do not run away from me, Miller. I’m different, yes?’

‘Yes,’ he agrees without hesitation. None whatsoever. My body develops the shakes, my heart is pounding in my chest, and my racing mind is making me dizzy.

‘I missed you.’

‘And I you, Sophia.’

The bile shoots from my stomach to my throat and an invisible grip wraps around my neck, choking me. I cut the call, not needing to hear any more. I suddenly can’t breathe, overcome by fury. And yet, I’m perfectly calm as I pop my head around the lounge door to find Ted at the window, his suited body relaxed in his standing pose. He’s pretty much been in the same position since we got home.

‘I’m going to soak in the bath,’ I tell his back, and he looks over his shoulder, smiling at me warmly.

‘Will do you good,’ he says, returning to face the window.

I leave him on watch and go upstairs to get dressed. I’m trying to think straight, trying to recall Miller’s words to Sophia, Sophia’s words to me, Miller’s words to me about Sophia. It’s all gone, leaving a mammoth void in my mind to conjure up plenty of other thoughts – none of which I like. I knew she was different, someone to be more wary of. I slip on some skinny jeans and a satin camisole. I avoid my Converse, stepping into my black stilettos instead. A ruffle of my hair to bring out the waves and a dusting of powder finishes me off. Then I grab my purse, creep down the stairs, and wait for my moment to slip out the door unnoticed. My moment comes in the form of a call on Ted’s mobile. He turns his back to the window and starts to pace around the lounge, talking quietly. Letting myself quietly out the door, I set off with absolutely no urgency. The anger is dominating me. So why on earth do I feel so calm?

The doormen are holding court at the entrance to Ice, armed with their clipboards, causing me an immediate predicament. The moment one of them clocks me, I’ll be reported to Ice HQ and Tony will be in pursuit. I really don’t need that. Resting my back against the wall, I run through my limited options . . . and come up with none. I’m not daft enough to think the doorman won’t recognise me, so aside from a convincing disguise, I’m not getting in that club without warning bells going off.

My whole being was so full of purpose from the moment I disconnected that call. One obstacle has chased away that fortitude and left a little room for sensibility to take hold. I allow myself to consider the consequences of my intended actions for a moment, and I actually begin to comprehend the danger I’m putting myself in, but then a commotion from across the road snaps me from my deliberating and pulls my attention to the entrance. A group of four men with their girlfriends are all ranting, and the doormen are clearly trying to pacify the rankled group. It doesn’t seem to be working, and my back pushes away from the wall when the scene moves to a whole new level of disturbance. One of the women steps up to a doorman, screaming in his face, and his hands come up in a gesture to suggest she should calm down. His attempt has the opposite effect and within a second, four men are all diving on him. My eyes widen at the chaos unfolding. It’s anarchy. Yet I quickly register that this could be my only opportunity to slip in undetected.

I hurry across the road, being sure to keep as close to the wall as possible. I make it into the club unnoticed. I know exactly where I’m going now, and I walk with steady, even paces, my earlier calmness and purpose returning the closer I get to Miller’s office. But now I’m confronted with another obstacle. My shoulders sag. I’d forgotten about the keypad code required to enter Miller’s office. I didn’t think this through properly at all.

What now? The element of surprise won’t work if I have to knock, and he’ll see me on the camera before I get to the door anyway. ‘Idiot,’ I mutter. ‘Fucking idiot.’ Taking a deep breath, I straighten my camisole and close my eyes for a few seconds in an attempt to gather my wits. I feel relatively calm, yet anger still burns in my gut. Damaging anger. It’s all contained, although that may change once I face Miller.

I’m standing in front of the door, under the watch of the camera, before I’ve even instructed my legs to carry me there, and I’m knocking it calmly in quick succession. As I knew they would, Miller’s eyes widen in alarm when he throws the door open, but in the blink of an eye, he has that impassive mask back in place. I begrudgingly note how spectacular he looks. But his jaw is tight, his eyes warning, and his chest is heaving.

He steps out and pulls the door behind him, swiping his hand through his hair. ‘Where’s Ted?’

‘At home.’

His nostrils flare and he whips his phone out, dialling urgently. ‘Get your fucking driver here,’ he spits down the line, before punching in a few more buttons and taking the phone back to his ear. ‘Tony, I won’t ask how the fuck Olivia got past you.’ He’s whispering, but the hushed tone doesn’t eliminate the authority. ‘Come and get her, and watch her until Ted arrives. Don’t let her out of your sight.’ He stuffs his phone in his inside pocket and hits me with blazing eyes. ‘You shouldn’t have come here, not when things are so delicate.’