Unveiled (Page 62)

‘I’m glad we’ve cleared that up. Now, let’s move on.’ Miller shifts in his chair. ‘I’m getting out, I’m taking Cassie with me, and I’ll tell you exactly how.’

William regards him carefully for a while, and then both men turn to me. ‘You want me to leave?’

‘Wait in the bar for me,’ Miller says coolly, showing me a face that I’ve fast become familiar with. It’s his I’m-not-budging face.

‘So, you only brought me in here to fuck me on his desk?’

‘Olivia!’ William scolds me, pulling my contemptuous glare from Miller to him for a few moments. He’s returning my glare, and if I wasn’t so slighted at the moment, I’d snarl at him. But I accept I can be of no help here. In fact, everything that has brought us to now only confirms that I’m a hindrance, but I’m pissed off for . . . everything. For feeling helpless, for being difficult.

Standing quietly, I turn my back without another word and escape the tension, shutting the door quietly behind me. I walk numbly down the corridor, navigating my way to the ladies’ washroom, ignoring the fact that I know exactly which way to go. I disregard the looks of interest being thrown at me by men, women, and staff on my way. It’s hard, but I succeed, the knowledge of what further state of hopelessness the looks could cause giving me the necessary strength to do so.

Once I’ve used the toilet, washed my hands, and stared at myself blankly in the mirror for an age, I make tracks to the Lounge Bar and settle on a barstool, quickly ordering a glass of wine – anything to focus on except what may be going down in William’s office.

‘Madam.’ The barman smiles, sliding my drink across to me.

‘Thank you.’ I take a long swig and cast my eyes around the bar, grateful that Carl is no longer here. A quick look at my phone tells me it’s only noon. It feels like this morning has been dragging out over years, but the thought of seeing Nan and taking her home in a few hours lifts my tired mood.

I feel myself relax under the peaceful surroundings of the bar and my continuous sips of wine . . . until that feeling – the one I haven’t felt since before we left for New York – is suddenly bombarding me. Chills. Prickling chills jumping onto my shoulders, and then the raised neck hair joins them. Reaching up and stroking the back of my neck, I glance to the side, seeing nothing unusual, only men sipping from tumblers, talking quietly, and a woman seated on the stool next to me. I brush off the tingling sensations and sip some more.

The barman approaches, smiling as he passes to attend to the lady. ‘Hendrick’s, please,’ she orders, her soft, husky voice dripping with sex, just how I remember most of William’s women sounded. It’s like they’ve taken lessons in perfecting the art of verbal seduction, even something as simple as ordering a drink sounding erotic. Despite the reminder, I smile to myself, and I have no idea why. Maybe because I know for sure that I never sounded like that.

I take my wine to my lips, watching as the barman pours and passes the lady her glass before turning my back slightly to get the entrance of the bar into view, waiting for Miller and William to appear. How long will they be? Are they still alive? I try to stop worrying, finding it easy when all of those unwanted sensations return, making me turn slowly, automatically.

I find the woman facing me, her glass held lightly in her dainty fingers.

Fingers like mine.

My heart catapults up to my head and explodes, scattering millions of memories into a haze that floats before me. The visions are clear. Too clear.

‘My baby girl,’ she whispers.

Chapter 15

The smash of my glass as it drops from my lifeless hand and clashes with the floor doesn’t even rip our eyes apart.

Sapphire on sapphire.

Sorrow on shock.

Mother on daughter.

‘No,’ I whimper, falling to my feet from the stool and backing away on unstable legs. ‘No!’ I whirl around to escape, dizzy, shaking and breathless, but crash into a huge chest. I feel strong palms circle my upper arms, and I look up to find Carl assessing my distraught face with worried eyes. It only confirms that what I think I just saw is real. The evil guy looks apprehensive – a look that doesn’t suit him at all.

Tears burst from my tortured eyes as he holds me in place, anxious vibes shooting from his big body into me. ‘Fucking hell,’ he growls. ‘Gracie, what the fuck are you playing at?’

The mention of my mother’s name injects life into my numb body. ‘Let me go!’ I scream, and buck in Carl’s hold, distressed and panicked. ‘Please, let me go!’

‘Olivia?’ Her voice seeps into the corners of my mind, prompting a barrage of lost memories to attack me. ‘Olivia, please.’

I hear her voice from when I was a small child. I hear her humming lullabies, feel her soft fingers stroking my cheek. I see her back for the last time walking out of Nan’s kitchen. It’s all confusing me. Her face has spiked it all. ‘Please,’ I beg, turning my welling eyes up to Carl, my voice trembling, my heart choking me. ‘Please.’

His lips straighten and every possible emotion plays like a camera roll across the evil guy’s face – sorrow, sadness, guilt, anger. ‘Fuck,’ he curses, and I’m suddenly being pulled behind the bar. He smashes his fist on a concealed button behind a shelf full of spirits, and the whole building is suddenly screaming, alarm bells ringing so loudly around us, making everyone jump up from their chairs. The hype of activity is instant, and the unbearable sound is strangely soothing. He’s drawing the attention of everyone, but I know he wants just one man here.