‘Go home, Livy.’ His tongue is heavy in his mouth, making his words slur slowly, but it’s not his usual, purposeful lazy rasp. The door slams in my face, echoing around me, and I jump back, startled at his maliciousness. I’m pounding the wood with my fist before I can decide if it’s a wise move, fear sailing through me.

‘Open the door, Miller!’ I yell, not relenting with my hammering of the black, shiny wood, ignoring the fast numbing sensation spreading across the side of my balled hand. ‘Open!’

Bang, bang, bang!

I’m going nowhere. I’ll hammer all night long if I have to. He doesn’t get to shut me out of his apartment or his life.

Bang, bang, bang!

‘Miller!’

I’m suddenly attempting to hit thin air, and it sends me on a few disorientated staggers forward. I just manage to steady my flailing body before it collides with Miller’s.

‘I said go home.’ He’s restocked on dark liquid, the tumbler near to overflowing.

‘No.’ I raise my chin in a brave act of defiance.

‘I don’t want you to see me like this.’ He steps forward hostilely, an attempt to make me retreat, but I stand firm, unwilling to be frightened off. We’re closer because of my tenacity, nearly chest to chest, and he’s breathing liquor vapours all over my heated cheeks. ‘I won’t ask again.’

I inwardly wither on the spot, yet sheer determination is refusing to allow him to see it. ‘No,’ I fire simply and confidently. He’s trying to repel me. ‘Why are you doing this?’

In obvious uncertainty, he polishes off the tumbler of dark liquid, a slight wince and gasp spilling from his mouth, accompanied by potent liquor fumes. They make my nose wrinkle in distaste, both at the sight of Miller and the smell of the alcohol.

‘I won’t ask again.’ I push the words through my clenched jaw, playing him at his own game.

He looks me up and down, musing quietly, mumbling incoherent words under his breath as he does. Then his heavy gaze lazily climbs back up the length of my body, apparently in its usual manner, but drunkenness is the cause this time, not Miller’s customary sultry way. He begins to sway. ‘I’m f**ked up.’

‘I know.’ I don’t disagree with him. He’s speaking the cold, hard truth.

‘I’m dangerous.’

‘I know.’

‘But not to you.’

My heart shows signs of life again. I knew that. Deep down, I knew that. ‘I know.’

His head performs something between a nod of satisfaction and an uncontrolled bob upon his wide shoulders. ‘Good.’ He turns and wobbles through his apartment, leaving me to shut the door and follow behind. I know where he’s headed before he momentarily stops and changes course, going to the drinks cabinet. He’s drunk enough, at least to me. However, Miller has other ideas. He clangs the bottle against the glass and tips more on the cabinet than into his glass. ‘Bollocks!’ he curses, dropping the empty bottle haphazardly between the masses of other bottles, causing a loud clattering of glass. ‘Fucking mess!’

On an exasperated sigh, I wander up behind him and set about rearranging the bottles and wiping down the mess he’s made, hoping that restoring part of his perfect world might inject some peace into him.

‘Thank you,’ he murmurs, so quietly I almost don’t hear.

‘You’re welcome.’ I can feel his stare burning through my profile as I mess with the bottles, taking my time . . . or biding it.

Bang!

I fly around quickly towards the sound, Miller a little slower.

Bang, bang, bang!

My previously settling heart rate ramps up a few gears, and I look to Miller, who’s staring in the direction of the door, too. But he doesn’t seem in a rush to go and find out what the commotion is, so I make for the entrance hall and circle the table, just as another harsh knock rings out through Miller’s apartment.

‘Wait,’ Miller snaps, grabbing my upper arm and pulling me to a stop. ‘Stay here.’ He passes me, his usually easy strides challenged by alcohol. I remain still, my mind racing as I watch him glance through the peephole. I can virtually see his hackles rise, and it prompts me to step forward, cautious but too curious to stop myself. He pulls the door open a fraction and makes to step out into the corridor, but his obvious plan to hide our visitor is totally defeated when they push their way into the apartment with ease, no doubt due to Miller’s less-than-stable frame.

Now my hackles jump up, too, and my jaw instantly tightens when William presents himself to me, his body oozing authority. He regards me closely for a few moments before dragging his grey gaze over to Miller’s wrecked form. This isn’t ideal. Miller looks shocking, and now William is going to want to know why.

‘What have you been up to?’ William asks, flat and even, like it’s no surprise and maybe he already knows.

‘That’s not your concern,’ Miller slurs, slamming the door. ‘You’re not welcome here.’

I feel the need to back Miller up, but that curious part of me has multiplied, as has the caution. So I remain with my lips sealed, soaking up the animosity batting back and forth between these two men.

‘And you’re not welcome in Olivia’s life,’ William retorts, turning to me. He must see the disbelief on my face, not that he seems in the least bit perturbed by it. ‘You’re coming with me.’

I cough my objection, noting Miller behind William twitching slightly, but not nearly enough for me to be sure that he’ll intervene. Please don’t tell me he’s going to back William up!

‘No, I’m not,’ I reply surely, squaring my shoulders. I’m staggered by Miller’s lack of input thus far, especially after his violent reaction to Gregory’s interference only an hour ago.

‘Olivia,’ William sighs, ‘you really are trying my patience.’

I brace myself for another comment on my mother, worrying about the anger simmering within me just at the thought of William making reference to her. If he comes out and says what I know he’s thinking, then I might be giving Miller a run for his money in the crazy department. ‘You are trying mine!’

William disguises his recoil well, and I know it’s because he doesn’t want to show a scrap of compassion in front of Miller. No, now he’ll uphold that powerful reputation . . . which means it could get very ugly, very quickly. ‘I’ve told you, you don’t belong here with him.’

My breath catches slightly, remembering William saying a version of those words to me when I was seventeen. I was sitting in his office, drunk. I didn’t belong with William. I don’t belong with Miller. ‘Where do I belong?’ I ask, making William eye me cautiously. ‘It seems you don’t think I belong anywhere. So tell me, where the f**king hell do I belong?’

‘Oliv—’ Miller pipes up, stepping forward, but I cut him straight off, not liking the potential of him agreeing with William.

‘No!’ I yell. ‘Everyone thinks they know what’s best for me. What about me? What about what I know?’

‘Calm down.’ Miller’s by my side, unsteady, trying to soothe me by taking my nape and kneading gently. It won’t work. Not now.

‘I know I’m supposed to be here!’ I yell, making myself shake with my building frustration. ‘I’ve been stumbling through my life since you sent me away.’ I point an accusing finger in William’s direction. It makes him withdraw slightly. ‘Now I have him.’ I throw my arm around Miller’s waist and plant myself to his side. ‘The only way you’ll stop me from being with him is if you put me six feet under!’