Page 10

I sat across from my incredibly hot and intelligent shrink, my legs crossed as I exuded my usual air of composure. My gaze was pinned on her, watching her adjust in her chair, getting ready for our session.

Her hair was piled up in a neat bun on top of her head, and her amazing, captivating eyes sparkled behind her glasses. She appeared professional, yet elegant, beautiful in every way.

Clarice’s feminine perfume wafted through the air, seemingly drawing me in with its sexy scent. The jewelry around her glittered in the soft light, and her relaxed energy hinted at the control she commanded.

Fascinating.

This was the reason I returned for this next session despite my reservations and initial hesitation. This was a complete waste of my time, and I knew that to be a fact. But I was intrigued by her and anxious to see how this would end. Her bravery, spunk, and confidence were traits I admired and found rather interesting.

It was like she truly believed she could change me—like she could fix me and repair the broken parts. What could be more intriguing than such a delusion from a little girl?

My lips curled into a smirk as I watched her with an intense gaze. It was a bit softer than my usual stern look but enough to highlight my fascination. She seemed determined to prove herself. But to whom?

I furrowed my brows and squinted my eyes, wondering what exactly led her on this path.

Had she had a rough childhood? Had she experienced something so horrible as a kid that she decided to understand the reason people did what they did?

Something had led her to do this, and for absolutely no reason, I was suddenly interested in her backstory.

The room was as silent as a graveyard as she skimmed through her notes from our last session. Her perfectly manicured fingers flipped through the pages of her notepad, and her chest rose and fell with steady breaths.

She didn’t seem nervous, didn’t seem disoriented. The young woman had everything under control, and I couldn’t wait to see what she had in store for me today.

“You’re wasting my time,” I said, breaking the silence with a challenging smile on my face. “Aren’t you supposed to have done that before now?” I added, trying to get on her nerves.

She jerked her eyes and met my gaze, her fingers drumming against the surface of the notepad on her lap. Clarice stared at me with a blank expression and said, her voice calm and collected, “You just can’t help crawling under my skin, can you?”

“You’re even more naive than I thought if you think your skin is what I wanna crawl under,” I replied, my eyes boring into hers. Meanwhile, a faint, self-satisfied smirk twitched at the corner of my lips.

She retained her blank expression as if unaffected by my perverted response. And for the first time in a long time, she made me feel weird—perhaps a little embarrassed, even. However, this small act of negligence from her only piqued my interest and curiosity.

Clarice kept proving to me that she wasn’t one of the regular LA girls I was used to having around. This challenged me to delve more into her, and I most certainly would.

She crossed her legs and adjusted her glasses, her fine, relaxed posture exuding power and control. “Mr. Tarasov,” she began, her voice gentle and soothing. “The last time we met, I asked you a question which you so conveniently deflected—”

“I didn’t deflect anything,” I cut her off, my eyes never leaving hers. “I merely told you to save it for later.”

Ignoring my rude interruption, she continued, “Why did you batter Mr. Barlow’s face?”

“Because I could, and someone had to put that bastard in his place,” I hissed, feeling a pang of vexation rising within me.

“Just because we can do something doesn’t mean that we should, Mr. Tarasov,” she said, looking into my eyes, unafraid of the glint of rage dancing in their depths.

“Sometimes, Clarice, violence is the only way to put people in their place,” I said and clenched my jaw in an attempt to hold back my rage.

“Maybe.” She shrugged her shoulders and continued, “But in your case, it seems to me that violence is always your first response.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” I demanded, my voice thickening under the weight of my anger.

“Everything,” she blurted out, holding my gaze. “Everything is wrong with that, Mr. Tarasov. You almost killed a man. Your actions that night could have resulted in a gunfight that would have claimed a lot of lives—innocent lives.” The words jumped out of her mouth, a calm and collected rush.

“You’re pulling up a lot of hypotheticals,” I countered, my tone low and even. “The fact is, none of these things actually happened.”

“But what if they did?” she insisted, her expression blank, unreadable. “You would have been responsible for the death of all those people just because you couldn’t control your anger.” She stared at me, her eyes squinting and her brow furrowing like she was studying me. “Even now, my words are starting to trigger you, aren’t they?”

My jaw tightened, and my face contorted into a light frown. I hated the fact that she could see right through me and read me like a fucking book. Apparently, she was good at her job, and despite my anger, I admired her.

Her eyes dropped to her notepad as she scribbled down whatever she’d noticed about me. Perhaps I’d given off more than I intended to without even realizing it.

“You misunderstand the situation with Barlow. I merely took care of a problem. That’s all,” I said, my expression turning cold.

Her eyebrows rose at my words, her voice laced with disbelief. “A problem that required hospitalizing someone? That’s quite a creative solution you have there, Mr. Tarasov.”

“It had to be done,” I said, stern and without remorse.

“Is that how you react to all the problems in your life, by throwing punches?” she asked, her brows furrowing ever so slightly.

My eyes narrowed, and I leaned forward, my voice dropping to a low growl. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Doc.”

“Really? Enlighten me, then,” she said, a glint of sarcasm lacing her tone.

“This is business, not some petty squabble you can fix with a hug and a timeout,” I spat.

Her expression remained calm, but her words cut deep. “I’m not talking about business. I’m talking about the fact that you beat a man half to death with your bare hands and feel no remorse about it.”

My lips curled into a smirk, and I reclined in my chair. “It’s part of the business, love: Inflict the fear of God in the hearts of your enemies.” I held her gaze for a moment before continuing. “But then again, I don’t expect you to understand. You don’t know what it’s like to walk in my shoes. You don’t know what it takes to survive in my world.”

Her expression softened, and her eyes never left my face. “Maybe I don’t,” she said, her voice calm and soothing. “But I do know what it’s like to be human. And that’s what I’m trying to help you find again.” She paused for a moment, letting the words sink in.

A sense of awe washed over me, and I swiped a palm across my face, appreciating her ability to seamlessly toil with my emotions. Her level of control over the situation and her composure were proof that I may have underestimated her skills.

The next few questions were more accommodating and didn’t really upset me that much. It was almost like as the session progressed, a feeling of calmness overwhelmed me, keeping me relaxed and emotionally stable. I felt like I was in a safe space, and the more she spoke about how I needed to handle my rage, the more I saw things from her own perspective.

I didn’t think that I would ever feel the need to keep my anger in check. However, her choice of words and the way she painted my situation made me understand the error of my ways. Strange…weird—but fascinating.

How had she managed to reach a part of me that had been dead for ages? How had she conjured up a feeling that seemed a lot like guilt? Had she cast some sort of spell on me? How the hell had she pulled that off?

Clearly, I’d misjudged her. I underestimated her ability to thaw my stone-cold heart, and if I wasn’t careful, she might just end up doing worse.

As the season came to an end, I couldn’t help but be drawn to her so much that I felt my heart pause for a moment when our eyes met.

“That’ll be all for today, Mr. Tarasov,” she said, flashing a welcoming smile at me, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I must commend your cooperation. It was way better than the last time.”

My response was a soft smile as I rose to my feet, buttoning up my black blazer. She did the same, her movements graceful and majestic. I held her gaze, and we stared at each other for a fleeting moment, the air thick with tension.

I contemplated voicing my thoughts because a part of me was concerned that she’d turn me down. However, she was worth the shot. In a move that caught her off guard, I asked, “Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

Clarice’s professional demeanor faltered, and her eyes widened ever so slightly, surprise flickering in her gaze. Her breath lodged in her throat, and her cheeks flushed as she struggled to regain her composure.

Her eyes dropped to the floor for a moment before she raised her head and faced me, clearing her throat. “I…uh…” she stuttered, her hand flying to discreetly scratch the back of her head. “This is a professional environment, Mr. Tarasov. I’m afraid I must maintain our…therapeutic relationship.”

Her words stung like a nasty bee, especially because no woman had turned me down before. Clarice just wouldn’t stop amusing me. Her rejection should hurt, and it did…a little. It pricked my ego, but it also stirred up something in me, something I’d yet to name.

I flashed her smirk and headed out without a word, even more obsessed now than before.