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“What did she tell you earlier?” I ask.
“That I help her bring down the Marinos or she’ll put you in jail.”
My mouth falls open. That fucking bitch. She has everything she needs to do it too.
Mace tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I told her to go fuck herself.”
No! Fuck. I grasp his shirt. “Maybe we should leave the country.”
“Here’s what we’re going to do?—”
Four rapid knocks sound on my door. Both of us go completely still, breaths held, waiting for whoever it is to leave. But they knock again. Mace tips his head.Expecting someone?I press my eyebrows together.No.
Setting his jaw, he places me on the couch and stands, striding to the door. I feel sorry for whoever is on the other side. I know he’d never hurt me, but he’s a dangerto whoever tries to threaten his peace. I chew on my cheek.
Mace stops at the door, checking through the peephole. “Who is it?” he asks, loudly enough to be heard from the other side.
“Dr. Greco.”
“Greco?” Mace mutters to himself, face scrunching.
Dang it. I missed my therapy appointment. “It’s okay,” I tell Mace, touching his arm. “It’s my therapist.”
“She’syour therapist?”
“Uh, yeah? Is there a problem?” Instead of waiting for an answer, I open the door and smile at Dr. Bianca Greco. Her rich brunette hair is pulled back, revealing simple makeup that highlights richly hydrated skin that I envy. She can’t be much older than me, but it’s part of why I like her. I’m done with old dudes questioning my feelings.
“Hey, Dr. Greco.”
She glances at Mace first, lips pursed, then at me. “You missed our video session and I got worried.”
Last I knew, therapists didn’t do house checks. She’s overstepping. I really like Dr. Greco, though, so I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. “Uh, yeah, sorry, something came up.”
She hums, squinting at Mace again, her eyes moving over him, spotting the ring on his finger and then shifting to my black diamond. Her eyebrows lift.
It’s not like I had planned on keeping it a secret from her. Besides, with Mace here, he can help me convince her this is all perfectly normal. “Do you want to come in or?—?”
“Only if you’re comfortable with that. I really came to check on you. I was...” She trails off and her cheeks redden. “Worried.”
Softening, I nudge Mace aside and open the door all the way. “I’ll make some coffee.”
Dr. Greco assesses my loft the way I imagine Agent Smith would, checking each corner for hidden danger, but she’s the furthest thing from law enforcement. Mace takes a seat at the island, eyeing her. They’re both acting fucking weird.
“So,” I say as I pop a coffee pod into my machine. “How have you been?”
She clears her throat and smooths her form-fitting black dress. “I should probably be asking you that.”
I lift a shoulder. “And you probably shouldn’t be here, right?”
She takes a seat, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Like I said, I was worried.”
“Hmm.” While the first cup is brewing, I lean against the counter, watching my husband stare with far too much suspicion to make me comfortable. “Do you two know each other?”
Mace’s head whips in my direction. “Not like that.”
A smile cuts across my face. I wasn’t jealous, but I love that he was worried.
Dr. Greco drums her fingers on her arm. All these nervous ticks she’s displaying are out of character. She’s usually so composed. I’m the one who’s meant to be a bundle of nerves. “Mace and I have met before.”