The Mysterious Mr. Miller

14. CONTROLLING AND ABUSIVE

Apparently, taking me with him on a plane was too risky. That explains how I ended up on an 18-hour long road trip with Mr. Miller. And not just him, we were also accompanied by his sweet, little driver Thomas, who was not so sweet and not so little.

The car ride started just fifteen minutes ago but I was already sick of it. Travelling and I didn’t go together well, which has partially to do with my bad back and partially with the fact that I always end up vomiting my insides out. 

Beside me, Miller was sitting like a log, his eyes plastered on his mobile screen. I wanted to get cozy on the seat but didn't want to look uncultured so I picked up a magazine and began reading it.

I was halfway through the page when Sean spoke. "Have you ever heard the name Machiavelli? From your father?" He asked.

"No." I replied in a confused voice. "What about it?"

"Machiavelli's are an Italian Mafia family." He said.

"Like yours?" I said and he narrowed his eyes at me.

"Worse. They don't try to hide behind a white collar like us." He said.

"Why are we talking about them?" I asked.

"Because the guy that was sent to follow us, he got the orders from them." He said and a slight shiver ran down my spine.

"Why?" I asked.

"I know just as much as you. Why would they be after Elijah or you when he had cut the ties with mafia years ago?" He stated.

"And you expect to find the answer to this question in Florida?" I asked.

"Yes. It's not about protecting you now. He could've sent you anywhere but he sent you to me. There must be a reason behind all this." He said.

"He better have a valid reason for sending me to a criminal." I said and his jaw clenched.

"Everyone is a criminal. My crimes are just more pronounced according to law." He said.

“Is that what helps you sleep at night?” I raised my eyebrows.

“I sleep perfectly fine.” He replied.

“Oh so your conscience is already dead.” I commented and I could practically feel the anger radiating off him.

“If you weren’t Elijah’s daughter….”

“You would have murdered me?” I asked. “Because that’s what you do best.”

My words were stopped by his sudden motion. He held me by my arm and pulled me forwards so I was digging into him and his face was a few inches away from me.

I winced as his fingers dug into the skin of my arm. “You are hurting me.” I said, trying my best to not be bamboozled by the lack of distance between us.

“I can do much worse.” He said, staring deep into my eyes. “As you said, I do not have any conscience.”

I had always expected bad people to be ugly but he proved me wrong. He was too beautiful to be so evil and satanic. And he smelled so good from close, not like blood or gore. His eyes were brown but they had some gold specks in them floating around. And his face was chiseled like freshly carved from granite. Not at all like the villains in children's story books.

Wait, why am I admiring this man?

I pulled away from him and slid as far in the seat as possible. Not wanting to engage in any more conversation with him, I turned around to face the window and looked out of it.

The weather was pleasant today, not too cold, not too hot. I lowered the glass of the windows and let the fresh air hit my face. I had missed the feeling of wind slapping my face because in the Miller mansion, the closest thing to nature was a walk in the lawn, while being followed by a dozen of security guards.