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‘I don’t want anyone else to taste you.’

‘I feel the same!’ I yell, making him jump before he snarls. His lack of retort should surprise me but it doesn’t. It worries me. But something springs to mind. ‘I saw the newspaper.’

His hostility is sucked up in a second. Now he looks downright uncomfortable, and he isn’t jumping to his defence, confirming my suspicions. Diana Low didn’t take it upon herself to change that headline. Miller told her to.

The sound of pots and pans clanging downstairs distracts me, making my head drop back on a moan of frustration. ‘What have you told Nan?’ I need to clarify this because she’s going to be on me like a vulture the second Miller leaves.

‘Just that we had words, that you misunderstood a woman I had a meeting with as more than the business associate she was.’ A sharp crack spikes in my neck when my head snaps back up. He shrugs and drops his arse to his heels. ‘What else should I have said?’

No answer to that is coming to me. I should be grateful for his quick thinking, but the audacity of his lie to my dear grandmother halts any gratitude. ‘I’ll call you,’ I breathe.

‘What do you mean, you’ll call me?’ His displeasure is obvious. ‘And you have no phone!’

‘You’ve been in another country with another woman.’ I drag myself to my feet, feeling more exhausted than ever before.

‘Livy, I didn’t sleep with her. I’ve not slept with anyone since I met you, I swear.’

I should be relieved, but I’m not. I’m completely shocked. ‘No one?’

‘No, no one.’

‘Not a soul?’ He’s an escort. I’ve seen him with women. He’s been away . . .

His eyes are smiling. ‘No matter how you ask, the answer will still be no. Not a soul.’

‘So what were you doing in Madrid? And that woman at Quaglino’s?’

‘Come and sit.’ He stands and starts pulling me to the bed, but I doggedly shake him off.

‘No.’ I walk over to my bedroom door and pull it open. Nothing he can say will fix this mess, and even if he finds any soothing words, he will still be an escort with some awful tactics. I need to listen to William.

He makes no attempt to leave my bedroom, his beautiful mind obviously racing. ‘I’ll take you for dinner, and you can’t refuse because it’s rude to decline a gentleman an offer to wine and dine you.’ He nods his approval at his own words. ‘Ask your grandmother.’

‘Next week,’ I suggest in an attempt to get him out before I cave, wondering if I’ll ever be ready to take him on. I don’t know where he’s found the idea that I hold the strength I need to help him.

His eyes widen slightly, but he maintains his composure. ‘Next week? No, I’m afraid not. Tonight. I’m taking you to dinner tonight.’

‘Tomorrow,’ I fire back unconsciously, stunning myself.

‘Tomorrow?’ he asks, clearly mentally calculating how many hours that is before sighing heavily. ‘Promise.’ His lips move slowly. ‘Promise me.’

‘I promise,’ I whisper, drawn to his mouth, thinking it can make everything better.

‘Thank you.’ His tall, crumpled form approaches me and stops at the doorway. ‘Can I kiss you?’ His manners shock me. He doesn’t usually care for them in situations like this.

I shake my head, knowing I’ll be blindsided and undoubtedly end up on the bed beneath him.

‘As you wish.’ He’s full to the brim with aggravation. ‘For now I’ll respect your request, but I won’t for much longer,’ he warns, moodily stomping in his expensive shoes down the hallway. ‘Tomorrow,’ he affirms as he disappears down the stairs.

I shut the door, feeling relieved, lost and proud all at once.

But I still want Miller Hart.

Chapter Eight

With the absence of a certain gentleman at the dinner table, supper has returned to dishes that I’m familiar with and at the kitchen table, rather than at Nan’s fancy dining room table. George’s top button is undone, and no one is being chastised for their manners. There’s no wine, no Sunday best frocks, and there’s no pineapple upside-down cake.

But there are three pairs of inquisitive eyes on me, all watching me closely as I force-feed myself. My silence speaks volumes, and Gregory is beside himself, having received the rundown from Nan before I made it downstairs to the dinner table. I heard the hushed whispers, the shocked gasp, and I also heard Nan pacifying a rankled Gregory with excuses of misunderstandings and business associates not being who I thought. Gregory won’t buy it, so remaining at the table for as long as possible to avoid his pressing questions is paramount. He has a black eye and a swollen hand. It can’t be ignored, and I’m wondering what he’s told Nan.

When Nan starts clearing the dinner table, Gregory cocks his head to the side, signalling me to follow him out of the kitchen. I know my time evading him is up. I thank Nan, rub George on the shoulder affectionately, and follow my best friend into the hallway.

But I get in first. ‘What were you thinking?!’ I hiss, looking back to the door and then yanking him up the stairs. ‘I didn’t need you flexing your muscles and bashing horns with him!’

We reach the top of the stairs and I turn to see his mouth dropped open in shock at my tirade. ‘I was protecting you!’

‘At first, yes, but it soon turned into a battle of the biggest ego! You threw the first punch!’

‘He was manhandling you!’