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He moans, and my hands skate their way up his back until they’re resting on the back of his head, pushing him in closer to me. ‘I’m not letting you do this to me again,’ I mumble weakly around his lips.

His mouth working mine doesn’t let up, and I don’t try to stop him, despite my words. ‘I don’t think it’s a matter of letting me, Livy.’ He pushes his groin into my core, putting more friction on my pulsing flesh. I whimper, searching for the willpower to stop this. ‘This is happening.’ He bites my lip and sucks it, pulling back and looking down at me. He moves my hair from my face. ‘We’ve already accepted this. It can’t be stopped.’

‘I can stop it, just like you have plenty of times,’ I breathe on a whisper. ‘I should stop it.’

‘No, you shouldn’t. I won’t let you, and I should never have stopped it either.’ His eyes run over my face and he dips, kissing me tenderly. ‘What has happened to you, my sweet girl?’

‘You,’ I accuse. ‘You’ve happened to me.’ He’s made me reckless and irrational. He may make me feel alive, but he makes me feel lifeless just as quickly. I’m playing the devil’s advocate with this man disguised as a gentleman, and I hate myself for not being stronger, for not stopping it. How many times can I do this to myself, and how many times will he do this to me?

‘I don’t like this.’ He pulls my hand from his back and looks down at my red nail polish. ‘And I don’t like this.’ He drags his thumb over my red lips as he watches me. ‘I want my Livy back.’

‘Your Livy?’ My brain engages fast, my heartbeat quickening. He wants the old Livy back so he can walk all over her again. Is that it? ‘I’m not yours.’

‘Wrong. You are very much mine.’ He pushes himself up and clasps my hand, pulling me up to a sitting position. ‘I’m leaving this office to tell your friend that you’re coming home with me. He’s going to want to speak to you, so you’ll answer your phone when he calls.’

‘I’m coming?’ I slip off the desk, and he immediately places me back on it.

‘No.’ He points over my shoulder. ‘You’re going into that bathroom, and you’re going to remove that shit from your face.’

I recoil, but he’s not perturbed. ‘Are you going to go out there and tell that woman that I’m going home with you?’ I grate, anger bubbling as he watches me closely.

‘Yes,’ he answers simply and swiftly. Just yes? I have nothing to say to that, drunkenness blocking all rational thinking, and when he’s finished studying my dumbstruck face he walks out, shutting the door behind him. I know I hear a lock click into place, so I jump down from his desk and run over to the door, jiggling the handle, fully aware that I’m wasting my time. He’s locked me in.

I don’t go to the bathroom; I go to the glass drinks cabinet, seeing some champagne on ice and two used glasses, neatly placed at just the right angle. That’s Miller’s doing, but the rim of one glass caked in cherry-red lipstick isn’t. I start to shake with fury and grab a glass, pouring in some champagne and downing it before refilling my glass and tipping that down quickly, too. I’m drunk enough, I don’t need this, but control is slipping rapidly away.

Just as Miller promised, my phone starts bleeping from my bag and I retrieve it from the desk, fishing around and finding Gregory’s name on the screen. ‘Hello.’ I try to sound cool and collected, when I want to scream down the phone, vent and lash out.

‘You’re leaving with him?’

‘I’m okay.’ I don’t need to be worrying him further, and I definitely won’t be leaving with Miller. ‘You didn’t know his name?’

‘No,’ he sighs. ‘Just Mr Hart, uptight f**ker.’

‘You told me to let him take me on the dance floor!’

‘That’s because he’s f**king hot!’

‘Or so you could have your later with Ben?’

‘A little dance, that’s all. I wouldn’t have let it go further.’

‘You did!’

‘I have no excuse,’ he mumbles. ‘I’m pissed off, but regardless of that, it’s a moot f**king point now, isn’t it? He’s the f**king coffee-hater and you’re already in love with the jumped-up twat!’

‘He’s not a twat!’ I don’t know what I’m saying. I can think of far harsher words to use and Miller would be all of them right now.

‘I don’t like this,’ Gregory grunts.

‘I didn’t like what I was subjected to earlier, either, Gregory.’

There’s silence down the line for a few moments before he speaks. ‘Sassy,’ he retorts sullenly. ‘Please hold on to that if you’re giving him more of your time, Livy.’

‘I will,’ I assure him. ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll call you. Is Ben okay?’

‘No, he’s still not got his colour back.’ He laughs, lightening the mood. ‘He’ll live.’

‘Okay. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’

‘You will,’ he confirms. ‘Be careful.’

I exhale deeply and hang up, slumping my arse on the edge of Miller’s desk, where there’s no paperwork, pen, computer or stationery, just a cordless phone set precisely to the side. His chair is tucked under, perfectly straight, and as I gaze around the whole room, the preciseness of everything registers. It’s just like his home. Everything has a place.