My head is screaming instructions to run, that I need to get away, yet none of my muscles are listening. I’m frustrated, mentally screaming back at my mind’s torrent of urgent instructions, but the deafening shrill of a mobile phone breaking through my mental argument brings me crashing back into the stairwell. It takes me a few confused seconds to register that it isn’t mine. Then I hear thundering footsteps coming closer. I can’t move. I’ve never been so terrified.

Nothing is working – my legs, my brain, my voice, nothing, but when I hear another crash of a door from below, energy seems to surge through me, snapping me into action and sending me sprinting up the remaining flights of stairs. The other set of footsteps increases its pace, which only catapults my fear and, subsequently, my speed.

Relief nearly knocks me to my arse when I reach the tenth floor, and I fall through the door into the corridor that’ll take me to safety, the sight of Miller’s shiny black door probably the most welcome vision ever – the most welcome until the door swings open and I’m powering towards a semi-naked, alarmed-looking Miller.

‘Miller!’

‘Livy?’ He starts towards me, his sleepy eyes widening by the second the closer we become, until it’s quite apparent that he’s wide awake and wondering what the hell is going on.

I drop the coffee and my purse as I reach him and launch myself into his arms, my panic now subsiding, making way for emotion. ‘Oh God,’ I gasp, letting him lift me from my feet and pin my full length to him, securing me to his bare chest with a firm hold at my neck and lower back. ‘Someone’s following me.’

‘What?’ He doesn’t ease up on his fierce hold.

‘They’re in the stairwell.’ My words are strained through my breathing, but I fight to spit it all out of my exhausted lungs. I wasn’t imagining it before. Someone’s been following me.

He’s suddenly prising my numb limbs from his na**d body, fighting to free himself. ‘Livy.’

I shake my head into his neck, not willing to let him go. I know where he’ll head. ‘Please don’t,’ I beg.

‘Livy, please!’ he shouts, pulling impatiently at my body. ‘Let go!’ His anger doesn’t deter me, and I grapple at his body, my fear rocketing, but my tenacity is flattened by an irate yell and a fast shift in movement that detaches me from his body. I’m being held at arm’s length in a heartbeat. My eyes are full of terror, his full of anger. ‘Stay,’ he orders, releasing me slowly to ensure I do as I’m bid. Overpowering fear prevents me from doing anything else.

The loss of his hold leaves me unsteady, and I watch through my haze of tears as he stalks to the stairwell. His dignity is concealed only by his boxer shorts, but his lack of cover only enhances the fury emanating from his lean, na**d physique. He’s quaking with anger, the muscles of his back rolling in waves, appearing to be flexing in preparation for what he might find beyond that door. He shoves it open with no caution or care, and passes the threshold, disappearing from my sight quickly. I attempt to get my breathing under control so I can listen, but I can’t hear a thing.

Then life seems to stop as a high-pitched ding rings out in the corridor air.

The lift.

The broken lift.

My heartbeat begins to pulse in my ears as I remain frozen, my eyes casting slowly over to the lift. The doors begin to slide open. I start to back away, terrified.

Then I gasp, my back hitting the wall as a man falls out. It seems to take an age for his boiler suit and tool belt to register in my distraught mind.

‘Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to startle you.’

I sag, my palm pressing into my chest as I exhale my held breath and watch him disappear back into the lift.

‘Nothing.’ Miller appears, pacing towards me, looking no less angry than when he left. He takes my nape, guiding me into his apartment, and I hear the door slam, making me wince. He’s buzzing with anger. ‘Sit,’ he instructs, releasing me and indicating the couch.

‘I saw someone this time,’ I say, lowering myself to the sofa.

‘This time?’ He recoils. ‘Why haven’t you said anything? You should have said something!’

My hands meet in my lap, my gaze dropping to them as I thumb my ring. ‘I thought I was being silly,’ I confess, now realising that my inner alarm bells are working and they’re working well.

Miller is standing above me, twitching. I can’t look at him. I know he’s right, and now I’m feeling more foolish than ever.

Firm hands land on my thighs and I force my eyes to lift a fraction in an attempt to gauge his expression. He’s crouched before me, his hands have begun a soothing caress, and he’s reinstated his impassive demeanour. All of these things restore my lost comfort. ‘Tell me when,’ he encourages me with an easy, gentle tone.

‘On my way to work the other day when you dropped me off. In the club.’ I’m watching Miller, and I’m not liking what I’m seeing. ‘Do you know who it could be?’

‘I’m not sure,’ he replies, replacing my returned comfort with a little disbelief.

‘You must have some idea. Who would want to follow me, Miller?’

His eyes drop, hiding from my questioning glare.

‘Miller, who?’ I’m not letting this drop. ‘Am I in danger?’ When fear should be slicing me, I find anger brimming instead. If I’m at risk, then I should know about it. Be prepared.

‘You’re in no danger when you’re with me, Olivia.’ He keeps his eyes down, refusing to face me.

‘But I’m not always with you.’

‘I’ve told you’ – he grates the words slowly – ‘you’re probably the safest woman in London.’

‘I beg to differ!’ I blurt, shocked. ‘I’m mixed up with you and William Anderson. I think I’m intelligent enough to figure out that that probably places me in the high-risk category.’ Good God, I dread to think of the enemies these two men have between them.

‘You’re wrong,’ Miller says quietly but insistently. ‘Anderson and I may not like each other, but we have one key interest.’

‘Me,’ I answer for him, but I don’t see how that makes me safe.

‘Yes, you, and with Anderson and me being on, let’s say, rival teams, it places you in safe hands.’

‘Then who the hell has been following me?’ I yell, yanking Miller’s startled face up. ‘I don’t feel safe. I feel very unsafe!’

‘You don’t need to worry.’

I can see the strength it’s taking for him to remain calm. I’m past that. I’m pissed off and annoyed that he’s attempting to brush off my warranted fear with excuses of being in safe hands.

I stand abruptly, forcing Miller back on his heels. His steel-blue gaze regards me closely as I try to pull a valid claim together, something to put his claim to shame. It’s quite easy. ‘I didn’t feel very safe when I was being chased down out there,’ I yell, throwing my arm out to the side to point at the door.

‘You shouldn’t have left without me.’ He stands and holds my hips, keeping me in place, then hunkers down, unleashing his curl and sinking into my angry eyes with worried blue ones. ‘Promise you’ll never go anywhere alone.’

‘Why?’

‘Just promise me, Olivia. Please don’t hit me with your sass.’

My sass is the only thing holding me up right now. I’m angry but frightened. I feel safe but exposed. ‘Please tell me why.’

His eyes close, clearly trying to gather some patience. ‘An interferer,’ he whispers on a sigh, his whole body deflating but his grip of my h*ps firming up to steady me when I wobble on a gulp. ‘Now promise.’

My eyes are wide and I’m frightened, no words coming to me.

‘Olivia, please, I beg you.’

‘Why? Who’s the interferer and why are they following me?’

He holds my eyes, speaking to me through the intensity of his gaze as well as his words. ‘I don’t know, but whoever it is can obviously predict my next move.’

His next move? Realisation sucker-punches me in the gut. ‘You haven’t stopped?’ I gasp.

It’s not as easy as just quitting.

His clients. They’ve all had him at the drop of a hat and a few thousand quid. Not any more, and it’s obvious that some won’t give him up easily. Everyone wants what they can’t have and now, because of me, he’s even more unobtainable.

‘I’ve not officially quit, Olivia. I know the upset this will cause. I need to do this right.’

It’s abruptly very clear. ‘They’ll hate me.’ Cassie hates me, and she’s not even a client.

He huffs an agreeable puff of sarcastic air. Then he sinks into me with reassuring eyes. ‘I’m not sleeping with anyone else.’ He articulates the words slowly and precisely, a desperate attempt to make himself clear, and I don’t doubt for a moment that he’s telling me the truth. ‘Olivia, I’ve not tasted anyone or let anyone taste me. Tell me you believe me.’

‘I believe you.’ I don’t hesitate. My faith is profound, despite my muddle, with no evidence except Miller’s say-so. I have no explanation for why this might be, but something deep and powerful is guiding me. It’s instinct, and instinct has served me well up to this point. I’m sticking with it. ‘I believe you,’ I affirm again.

‘Thank you.’ He takes me in his arms and hugs me with the most incredible amount of relief. I’m confused and shocked. Women scorned and following me? They can predict his next move. They know he’s going to quit and they don’t want him to.

‘I have a request,’ he breathes into my neck, his hands skating every inch of my back.

‘What?’

‘Never stop loving me.’

I shake my head, wondering if he recalls making that request last night when alcohol and tiredness were consuming him, and that makes me wonder whether he recalls my reply. ‘Never.’ My confirmation is as resolute as it was before sleep took us last night, despite my short delay in delivering it.

Chapter Eighteen

Nan’s waiting on the doorstep when we pull up outside the house, arms crossed over her bosom and guarded sapphire eyes set firmly on Miller. I check for a tapping slipper as she follows our path to the house, anything to avoid the risk of meeting her gaze. She may have been understanding and compassionate on the telephone last night, but I don’t mistake that as being the end of it. We’re face to face now. There’s no escaping. She’ll be pouncing on Miller, and judging by his quiet thoughtfulness since we left his apartment, he’s fully expecting it.

His warm palm slides onto my neck as we approach and begins massaging gently, his attempt to rub the nerves out of me. He’s wasting his time. ‘Mrs Taylor,’ Miller says formally, bringing us to a stop.

‘Hmmm,’ she hums, not relenting on her threatening glare. ‘It’s past nine.’ She’s speaking to me now but still holding Miller in place with suspicious eyes. ‘You’ll be late.’

‘I’m—’

‘Olivia isn’t going to work today,’ Miller cuts me off. ‘Her boss has agreed to give her the day off.’

‘Oh, really?’ Nan asks, grey eyebrows high in surprise. I feel like I should be the one explaining, but instead I’m a spare part between these two while Miller continues to speak.

‘Yes, I’m taking her out for the day. A bit of respite and quality time together.’

I find it easy to suck back the condescending laugh that’s threatening. Miller insisted that I needed a break, and the opportunity to spend a whole day with him is rare and should be seized with both hands. But I’m not naive enough to believe that that’s the only reason.