‘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!’

Both of our heads snap to the side when we hear Nan. ‘What’s going on up there?’

‘Nothing!’ I call, pulling Gregory into my room and slamming the door. ‘You prised me from him and dumped me on the pavement before tackling him to the floor!’ I bend and point at my head. ‘I spent hours in A and E being glued together while you wrestled in the middle of the street!’

‘You just disappeared!’ he shouts, pointing his finger in my face. ‘And you have no f**king phone!’ He throws his hands up in the air in frustration.

I pull up a moment, thinking about something that I really never wanted to think about again. ‘It’s affecting us,’ I say quietly.

His neck retracts on his shoulders. ‘Yes, he is.’

‘I don’t mean Miller.’

‘Then what—’ His mouth snaps shut, his eyes wide. ‘Oh no! Don’t blame this on that little thing we had.’ He waves towards the bed, laughing sarcastically. ‘This shit between us is down to that f**king prick you’ve fallen in love with!’

‘He’s not a prick!’ I shout, searching deep for the strength to calm myself down.

‘I swear to God, Livy, if you see him again, then we’re done!’

‘Don’t talk stupid!’ I’m horrified he would say such a thing. I’ve helped him through endless shitty break-ups, and I’ve never made such a threat.

‘I’m not,’ he says more calmly. ‘I mean it, Olivia. You know as well as me that that cocksucker is trouble. And I know you’re not telling me everything.’

‘I am!’ I defend myself far too hastily.

‘Don’t insult me!’

‘At least he cared enough to search for me!’

Gregory recoils in disgust. ‘He’s ruining you.’ Biting his lip, he watches me closely for a few long seconds. I don’t like the look on his face, and I know I’m not going to like his next words. He’s thinking too hard about them. ‘I can’t see you if he’s in your life.’

I gasp as he turns and leaves, making a point of slamming the door behind him, leaving me struck dumb in the middle of my bedroom. I’m speechless, hurt and mad. He can’t slap conditions on our friendship when it suits him. I never have.

I throw myself into bed on an annoyed curse and hide under the sheets. Once again, my mind is grateful for the let-up in painful thinking, and I’m soon dreaming of hard warmth pushed up against my back and soft humming in my ear. I’m only dreaming, but the sharp edges under the bespoke suit and the familiar feeling of smooth hands stroking my bare tummy are comforting, even if they aren’t real. It’s far more welcome than the usual nightmare.

I don’t welcome Monday with any more enthusiasm than I have every other morning since I fled that hotel. On top of my muddled thoughts about a certain man, I now have Gregory to worry about. The calamity that is my life at the moment is certainly making up for all the boring that’s come before.