Unveiled (Page 56)

‘Open your eyes, Olivia.’ Miller’s placid tone strokes my skin and I find myself peeling my lids open, even though I have no desire to see what will be outside of the car. But I keep my gaze on my lap, noting my eternity ring spinning wildly on my finger, courtesy of my own unconscious fiddling. ‘And look at me,’ he orders.

Before I can obey, my nape is clasped and twisted until I’m facing him. I root my eyes to Miller, knowing what I’ll see beyond him if I cast my eyes past him.

The Society.

William’s club.

‘Better,’ he says, reaching over with his spare hand and arranging my new hair just so. ‘You know William Anderson isn’t my favourite person,’ he declares, ‘but he cares for you dearly, Olivia.’

I choke on nothing and open my mouth to argue, to tell him that all of William’s actions are spiked by his guilt. He couldn’t save my mother so he’s trying to cleanse his soul and save me, but I get a palm laid neatly on my lips to shut me up before I start.

‘If I can accept his help, then you certainly can.’

My face twists in defeat behind his palm, my eyes narrowing slightly. The mild curve of his lips tells me exactly what the next words from his perfect mouth will be.

I’m bang on the money.

‘Sass,’ he breathes, moving his hand fast and replacing it with his mouth. The touching of our lips does everything I’ve come to expect and I find myself unbuckling my seat belt while I return his kiss. I quickly find my way across the car to his lap. ‘Hmmmm,’ he hums, helping me get comfortable while our tongues find perfect synchronisation. He’s loading me with the strength I’ll need to face William, to walk into the Society.

‘Come on. Let’s get this over with.’

Moaning my objection, I make it as tricky as possible for Miller to detach me from his mouth and open his door. He cocks his head in instruction for me to jump out, which I do on an audible grumble, slipping from his lap and finding myself on the pavement sooner than I’d like. I do everything to avoid looking up. I faff with my dress, flick my new hair over my shoulders and pull it back to my front, and then accept my bag when it appears by my side. My lungs collect air slowly and I finally locate the strength to face the building before me.

Years of anguish seem to creep up my body from the concrete at my feet and suffocate me. The air grows thick, making breathing challenging. And my eyes burn from the visual reminder of my tainted past. The building is just how I remember it – the giant limestone bricks, the original giant stained-glass windows, the smooth curved concrete steps leading up to gigantic double doors that’ll take me into William’s world. Glossy black metal railings guard the frontage, with gold spikes at the tip of each rod, making it seem grand and opulent, but with an edge of danger. A gold plaque fixed to one of the pillars flanking the entrance states in large bold letters the society. I stare blankly at the doors, feeling more vulnerable than ever before. This is the centre of William’s world. This is where it all began, when a young woman stumbled boldly into the unknown.

‘Olivia?’

I shake myself from my reverie and cast a sideways glance at Miller, seeing him looking down at me. He’s trying to conceal his apprehension . . . and failing. It’s pouring from those eyes, yet I’m unsure whether his unease is because of where we’re heading or because I’m falling fast into despondency. ‘The last time I was here, William sent me away for good.’

Miller’s lips straighten and misery to equal mine plagues his features.

‘I never wanted to see this place again, Miller.’

His misery doubles and he moves in to take me in his thing. It’s the perfect hiding place. ‘I need you with me, Livy. I feel like I’m constantly balancing on the edge of a black hole that’ll swallow me up and take me back to complete darkness with one slight wrong move.’ His palms skate up my back until they’re cupping the sides of my head. He pulls me from my hiding place and finds my eyes. I hate the hint of defeatism I can detect there. ‘Don’t give up on us, I beg you.’

A light switches on in response to Miller’s plea, and I mentally pull my sorry self together. Miller Hart isn’t a weak man. I’m not mistaking his confession as weakness. He’s not. I’m simply a chink in this confounding man’s tight armour. But I’m also a strength, because without me, Miller wouldn’t have entertained the thought of escaping his life of debasement. I’ve given him the reason and strength to do it. I mustn’t make it harder for him than it already is. My history is exactly that – in the past. Gone. It’s Miller’s history preventing us from moving forward. We need to remedy that.

‘Let’s go,’ I say evenly, defying the lingering apprehension that’s still rooted deep. I take the steps steadily and with purpose, me leading Miller for once, until I’m being blocked from proceeding farther by the ominous double doors. I’m astounded when Miller reaches over and punches in the keypad code from memory. What in the world?

‘You know the code?’

He shifts uncomfortably. ‘Yes,’ he answers, flat and with utter finality.

‘How?’ I splutter. I’m not accepting any of the usual signs that tell me the subject is exhausted. It isn’t. William and Miller despise each other. There’s no good reason why he would know the code that can grant him access to William’s establishment.

He halts in his attempt of shifting me and starts fiddling with his suit jacket sleeves, brushing each down. ‘I’ve stopped by one or twice.’