Promised

‘There’s no need for your friend to leave,’ she purrs, and I look back, seeing her smiling at me. No, she’s not smiling; she’s smirking. ‘The more the merrier.’

I frown and look up at Miller, who looks like he’s gone into shock. He speaks up, but his jaw is tight, making his words seem threatening. ‘I told you this was just dinner.’

‘Yes, yes.’ She rolls her eyes dramatically and pours the rest of the champagne down her throat. ‘And would this sweet little thing be the reason for our change in etiquette?’

‘That’s none of your business.’ He tries to remove me from the bar, but I’m as stiff as him now, hindering his attempts.

‘What’s she talking about, Miller?’ I ask more calmly than I’m feeling.

‘Nothing. Let’s go.’

‘No!’ I twist out of his hold and face the woman.

She seems oblivious of the tension bouncing between Miller and myself as she demands more champagne from the barman before handing me a card. ‘Here. Doesn’t look like I’ll need this any more. Keep it safe.’

I take it without thought and glance down at the ivory embossed words, seeing only Miller’s name, telephone number, and e-mail. ‘What’s this?’

Miller goes to snatch it, but my nimble hands move faster, pulling it from his reach. ‘It’s nothing, Livy. Please, give it to me.’

The woman laughs. ‘Put it on speed dial, sweetheart.’

‘Crystal!’ Miller shouts, shutting her up in an instant. ‘It’s time for you to leave.’

Her eyes widen and turn slowly to me. ‘Oh my,’ she breathes, dragging her smug stare down my frozen body. ‘Has London’s most notorious male escort gone and fallen in love?’

Her words knock all of the air from my lungs and my knees give out a little, causing me to reach out and grab Miller’s jacket. Escort? I slowly turn the card over, seeing ‘Hart Services’ in an elegant scrolled font.

‘Shut up, Crystal,’ he snarls, clenching my hand.

‘She doesn’t know?’ She laughs some more, looking at me in pity. ‘And there’s me thinking she was paying like the rest of us.’ She downs her fresh champagne, while I’m fighting down the bile that’s rising in my throat. ‘Think yourself lucky, sweetheart. A night with Miller Hart will set you back thousands.’

‘Stop,’ I whisper, shaking my head. ‘Please stop.’ I want to run away, but my thumping heart won’t allow the instructions from my brain to pass through to my legs. It’s bouncing them straight back up to my head, making me dizzy and confused.

‘Livy.’ He appears in my downcast view, his face not the usual expressionless beauty that I’ve fast become used to. ‘She’s drunk. Please don’t listen to her.’

‘You accept money for sex.’ The words stab at me repeatedly. ‘You listened to me spill everything – about my mother, about me. You acted all shocked, when you’re just like she was. How I . . .’

‘No.’ He shakes his head adamantly.

‘Yes,’ I counter, my motionless body coming back to life and beginning to shake. ‘You sell yourself.’

‘No, Livy.’

In my peripheral vision, I see Crystal lower from the stool. ‘I love drama, but I have a fat, balding bastard of a husband who’ll have to suffice for this evening.’

Miller swings violently towards her. ‘You’ll keep this to yourself.’

She smiles and rubs his arm. ‘I’m not a gossip, Miller.’

He scoffs and she laughs as she sashays out of the bar, taking the fur coat that’s held out by the cloakroom attendant on her way.

Miller yanks a wallet from his pocket and throws a pile of notes onto the bar, and then takes my neck. ‘We’re leaving.’

I don’t fight him off. I’m in shock, I feel sick, and my head is ringing. I can’t even think clearly to comprehend what’s happening. I feel my legs moving beneath me, but I don’t seem to be going anywhere. I can feel my heart beating wildly, but I don’t seem to be able to breathe. My eyes are open, but all I can see is my mother.

‘Livy?’

I look up at him blankly, finding sorrow, anguish and torment. ‘Tell me I’m dreaming this,’ I murmur quietly. It’ll be the worst dream ever, but as long as it’s not real, I don’t care. Please let me wake up.

His face screws up in defeat as he stops walking, bringing me to a halt by the giant glass doors. He looks totally beaten. ‘Olivia, I wish I could say yes.’

I’m pulled into his arms and compressed against his chest violently, but I don’t return his thing. I’m numb.

‘We’re going home.’ He tucks me into his side and leads me onto the street. We walk some distance, neither one of us saying anything, me because I physically can’t and Miller because I know he doesn’t know what to say. I might’ve been rendered useless by shock, but my brain is working better than ever before, and it’s making me relive memories that I’ve already spent too much time on recently. My mother. Me. And now Miller.

I’m bundled into his car carefully, like he’s worried I might break. I might – if I’m not broken already. I want to rewind the evening, change so many things, but where would I be then, apart from unaware and completely in the dark?

‘Would you like me to take you home?’ he asks quietly, settling cautiously in his seat.

I turn my blank face to his. The roles are reversed. It’s him showing all of the emotion now, not me. ‘Where else would I want to go?’ I ask.