Denied (One Night 2)

‘He also does lovely casual wear,’ I counter, knowing Miller wouldn’t know that.

‘Miller!’ The high-pitched shrill eats away at the flesh on my shoulders and when I turn to see an annoyingly preened woman approaching, a sour expression replaces my happy face. She’s glowing, hurrying her steps to make it to him faster. She’s near-on perfect, just like the rest of them, all shiny hair, flawless make-up, and expensive clothes. I’m bracing myself for another reality check. I immediately hate her.

‘How are you?’ she sings at him, not giving me a second glance. No, her attention is rooted on my perfect Miller. ‘You look as dashing as always.’

‘Bethany,’ Miller greets, flat and cold, all evidence of the ease that was delighting me disappearing in a flash of red lips and perfectly styled hair. ‘I’m very well, thank you. Yourself?’

She pouts her lips and transfers her weight onto one hip, tilting her body to the side. Her body language is throwing off vibes of attraction left, right, and full-force centre. ‘Always well, you know that.’

I roll my eyes and bite my tongue, wilting on the inside. Another one. Now she just needs to spot me and finish me off with one of those looks or the delivery of some mocking words. And if she pulls out one of his cards, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.

‘Excellent,’ he replies, short and sharp, despite being perfectly polite. I can sense his restlessness, all of the signs of Miller and his need to repel people surfacing, and it’s in this moment that I wonder why these women are so taken by him when he can be so hostile. He’s a perfect gentleman on dates – he said so himself – but what’s the pull beyond that? How would they respond to him if he were to bless them with his worshipping ways? I inwardly laugh. They’d be like me. Non-functioning without him. Doomed. Dead.

Miller clears his throat and shifts the clothes in his hands. ‘We’ll be on our way,’ he says, sidestepping Bethany, obviously expecting me to follow, but when I feel a pair of inquisitive eyes land on me, I’m unable to convince my legs to move. Here it comes.

‘Oh,’ she breathes, running interested eyes down the full length of me. ‘Looks like someone beat me to him today.’ My mouth drops open and she smiles, clearly unperturbed by my affronted state. ‘I’m sorry, you are?’

I’m going to tell her exactly who I am. Accept it or learn to deal with it better. Those are my options. I have sass, that’s been confirmed, and I need to start using it wisely. This woman, just like the rest of them, makes me feel inferior, yet Miller isn’t showing signs of anger at the potential of this woman driving a wedge between us or making me doubt my worthiness. ‘Hi, I’m Oli—’

‘Sorry, we’re late,’ Miller cuts me off, just when I’ve located my sass and am about to unleash it. ‘Always a pleasure.’ He nods at Bethany, who now looks really interested, and gently pushes into my back rather than take his customary hold of my neck.

‘Oh, it is,’ Bethany purrs. The rigidity that dominates Miller’s entire being is instant. ‘Hope to see you soon.’

I’m pushed away fast, both of us silent, the tension palpable. Always a pleasure. I bristle on the inside and out. We round a corner, arriving at the men’s shoe department, and Miller immediately grabs the first pair in sight and presents them to me. I don’t look. Bethany has undone all of our progress this morning. ‘These?’ He’s desperately trying to divert me. It won’t work. The sass I was about to hit that woman with is now bubbling, a bit of anger mixing in for good measure, and there’s only one other person to release it on.

I bat the shoes away. ‘No.’

He recoils, eyes wide and perfect lips slightly agape. ‘I beg your pardon?’

My eyes narrow into angry slits. ‘Don’t start with the begging,’ I warn. ‘She was a client. Could she be following me?’

‘No.’ He almost laughs.

‘Why didn’t you just let me introduce myself? And why didn’t you put her straight?’

Miller places the shoe carefully back onto the display stand and even tweaks the damn thing into position before stepping into me thoughtfully. My body’s response is irritating and unwanted, but a given. ‘I’ve told you before, I don’t want anyone interfering, so the fewer people who know, the better.’ The pad of his index finger brings my tense chin up to his dark stubbled face. I can see annoyance hovering on the edges of his beauty. ‘When I say there is only us – no me or you – I also mean no them.’

However tempting an existence with only me and Miller is, it’s also impossible. ‘How many are there?’ I ask. I need to know how many of them I have to face. I need a tick sheet, something to mark them all off as I’m confronted with them. How many will predict his next move? How many will follow me?

‘It’s of no importance’ – he slides his palm over my shoulder and starts massaging some calm into me – ‘because now there is only my sweet girl.’ His sincerity creeps into me, chasing my doubts away.

Leave it.

Gathering myself, I find no words in reply, so I grab a boot from a nearby table. ‘These,’ I announce, not giving Miller the chance to refuse and handing it straight to an assistant instead.

She smiles, her back straightening when she captures her first look of Miller. ‘Yes, madam. Size?’ She keeps her greedy eyes on him, unwittingly goading me. I’d love to tell her what size, but I’m devastated to have to turn to Miller to ask.