“You’ve taken it—”
“And that means the boot, too.”
I pick up my mug, just so I can slam it down. And I do. Hard. “Stop being childish!”
He recoils in his chair and cuts the call. “I beg your pardon.”
I laugh a little. “Don’t start with the begging, Miller. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
His forearms meet the table, and he leans in. “Why won’t you stay with me?”
I look into his pleading eyes and sigh. “Because I need to be here,” I reply, seeing no understanding developing, so I go on in the hopes of making him comprehend. “I need to have things ready for when she comes home. I need to be here to take care of her.”
“Then she can come and live with us,” he counters immediately. He’s serious, and I’m shocked. He’s prepared to expose himself to the potential of another person, besides me, screwing up his perfect home? Nan will send Miller into obsessive meltdown. She might be ill, but I’m under no illusion that she won’t seize control of Miller’s household. It would be anarchy. Miller would never cope.
“Trust me.” I laugh. “You really don’t mean that.”
“I do,” he retorts, wiping my smile from my face. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“What?” I’d love him to confirm my thoughts, because if he does that, we’re halfway to an admission.
“You know what.” His eyes are warning me. “I’d feel more at ease if you’re at my place. It’s safer.”
It takes every ounce of my remaining patience not to show my exasperation. I should have expected this. I refuse to be chaperoned and guarded. Meeting and falling in love with Miller Hart might have given me freedom, awakened me, and ignited a desire to live and feel, but I’m also aware that there could now be an element of constraint attached to my newfound freedom. I’m not going to let that happen. “I’m staying,” I assert with utter finality, making Miller’s whole body go lax in his chair.
“As you wish,” he breathes, closing his eyes and looking to the heavens. “Fucking sass.”
I smile, loving the sight of Miller so exasperated, but loving his easy acceptance even more. “What are you doing today?”
His head drops, one eye narrowing on me suspiciously. “You’re going to refuse to accompany me, aren’t you?”
My smile widens. “Yes. I’m going to go see Nan.”
“You can come to Ice with me first.”
“No.” I shake my head slowly. I expect Cassie will be there, and I’m not up for looks of disdain or words that’ll likely reduce me to dust. I have better things to do than get involved in a territory battle, and nothing will delay me getting to Nan.
He leans forward, jaw ticking. “You’re testing my fucking patience, Olivia. You are coming, and you will accept.”
I will? I know why he’s trying to lay down his rules, but the arrogant manner in which he’s doing it has my sass exploding before I can tell myself to be reasonable. My palms meet the table, and I move in fast, making Miller retreat in his chair. “If you want to keep me as a possession, then you’ll lay off on the arsehole behavior! I’m not an object, Miller. Having an appreciation of your possession doesn’t mean you get to boss me around.” I stand, sending my chair skidding back on the floor. “I’m going for a shower.” My feet make quick work of removing me from the simmering anger emanating from Miller as a result of my insolence. He just couldn’t stop, and there’s only so long I can humor him.
* * *
I take my time showering and dressing, and I’m surprised when I get downstairs and find Miller’s gone. But not so surprised when I find the kitchen smelling as though it’s been attacked by antibacterial spray and looking as though it’s been doused in sparkle dust. I won’t complain, though, because it means I can get to the hospital without delay. Snatching up my bag, I swing the front door open and dart out while fishing my keys from my satchel.
“Oh!” I yelp, bouncing off a chest and staggering back. I collide with the front door as it meets the frame, smacking my shoulder blade. “Shit!” My hand instinctively reaches over my back and rubs away the sharp stab of pain.
“In a rush?” Strong fingers wrap around my forearm and hold me in place.
I drag irritated eyes up a suited frame, knowing what I’m going to be confronted with once I venture past the neck. And I’m right. William. My mother’s ex-pimp/my self-appointed guardian angel. “Yes, so if you’ll excuse me.” I go to sidestep him, but he shifts with me, blocking my path. Biting my tongue and taking a calming breath, I square my shoulders and lift my chin. He’s not in the least bit fazed. It doesn’t sit well. My sass is getting hard to uphold. It’s exhausting.