Promised (One Night 1)

‘Yes, madam.’

I stare at her in disbelief. ‘Does being in Harrods Food Hall put a plum in your mouth?’

She flicks me a sideways glance. ‘Whatever are you talking about?’

I start laughing. ‘That. The voice. Come on, Nan!’

She leans in discreetly. ‘I do not have a plum in my mouth!’

I smile. ‘Yes you do. A huge, great big plum, and it’s making you sound like the Queen with respiratory problems.’

Nan’s beautiful pineapple is handed delicately over the counter and she takes it, gently placing it in the basket I’m holding.

‘Ooh, be gentle,’ I whisper, laughing to myself.

‘You’re not too old to lie over my knee,’ Nan threatens, increasing my laughter.

‘Would you like to do it here?’ I make my face serious. ‘You could polish my arse while you’re at it so I match your pretty pineapple.’ I snort on a suppressed laugh.

‘Shut up!’ she snaps. ‘And be careful with my pineapple!’

I’m at the point of doubling over as I watch Nan straighten her scowling face before turning back to the gentleman who served her. ‘Could you remind me where I might find the double cream?’

I start falling all over Harrods Food Hall in hysterics as I watch Nan’s hand movements and listen to her fake posh voice. Remind her? She’s never bought double cream from Harrods in her bloody life!

‘Certainly, madam.’ He directs us to the back of the hall where the fridges are stocked with posh dairy. Nan’s back straightens and she’s smiling and nodding politely at everyone we pass, while I titter, shake and hold my aching stomach from laughing too hard.

I’m still chuckling as I watch her read the back of every pot of cream on the shelf, humming to herself. She shouldn’t bother with the ingredients and should maybe pay more attention to the price. Deciding that I need to calm myself down before my nan swings at me, I start taking deep breaths as I wait for her to choose, but my shoulders won’t let up, and I can’t help my eyes from looking down at the perfect, shiny pineapple, reminding me of why I’m in stitches.

I jump when I feel hot breath in my ear and turn, still laughing until I see whose breath it is. ‘You look incredibly beautiful when you laugh,’ he says quietly.

I stop immediately and back up, but I should’ve stayed put because I’ve just bumped into Nan, causing her to huff some more and swing around. ‘What?’ she spits before she clocks my company. ‘Oh my . . .’

‘Hello.’ Miller closes the distance, getting way too close, and puts his hand out. ‘You must be Livy’s famous nan.’

I die on the spot. She’s going to lap this up good and proper. ‘Yes.’ She still sounds like she has a plum in her mouth. ‘And you’re Livy’s boss?’ she asks, placing her hand neatly in Miller’s, flicking me a questioning look.

‘I think you know that I’m not Olivia’s boss, Mrs . . .’

‘Taylor!’ she practically screeches, delighted that he’s confirmed her suspicions.

‘I’m Miller Hart. It’s a pleasure, Mrs Taylor.’ He kisses the back of her hand – he actually kisses the back of her bloody hand!

Nan giggles like a schoolgirl and now that my heart is over the shock, it starts a steady thump in my chest. He’s adorned in a three-piece grey suit, white shirt, and silver tie . . . in Harrods. ‘Shopping?’ I manage to breathe.

He regards me intently as he releases Nan’s wrinkled hand and holds up two suit bags. ‘I was just collecting some new suits and an enchanting laugh caught my attention.’

I ignore his compliment. ‘Because you don’t have enough suits?’ I ask, remembering the rows and rows of matching jackets, trousers and waistcoats lining the three walls of his wardrobe. I’ve never seen him in the same one twice.

‘You can never have enough suits, Livy.’

‘I agree!’ Nan trills. ‘It’s so refreshing to see a young man so well turned out. These youngsters who have jeans sagging around their arses, their underwear out for the world to see. I just don’t understand it.’

Miller’s slight amusement is clear. ‘I concur.’ He nods thoughtfully, flicking his eyes to mine while I consider how silly it sounds, referring to him as a young man. He is, but his persona hints to a much wiser, more lived-in man. He acts older than his years, even if he looks perfectly gorgeous at twenty-nine. ‘That’s a delicious-looking pineapple.’ He nods at the basket in my hand.

‘My thoughts exactly!’ Nan sings delightedly, agreeing with him again. ‘Worth every penny.’

‘It is,’ Miller replies. ‘The food here is sublime. You must try the caviar.’ He reaches out to a nearby shelf and takes a jar, showing it to Nan. ‘It’s exceptional.’

I can do nothing more than watch in shock as Nan has a good look at the jar, nodding her unknown agreement as they chat away in Harrods Food Hall. I want to curl up in a ball and hide.

‘So how are you and my lovely granddaughter acquainted?’

‘Lovely being the operative word, wouldn’t you agree?’ Miller asks, placing the jar back and tweaking it so the label is positioned just so. He doesn’t stop there. He runs his hand across each jar flanking the one he’s just placed, straightening them all up.

‘She’s a doll.’ Nan elbows me discreetly while Miller finishes up with the shelf display.

‘That she is.’ He gazes at me, and I feel my face heat under his intense stare. ‘She makes the best coffee in London.’