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I hadn't seen her in a week. Each time I went to check on Sophie, it was late, and she wasn't there. I wondered why she was sitting…
Wait, something wasn’t right. Suddenly it clicked. She wasn't sitting. She fell. She crashed into me and fell.
I unplugged my eyes from the low neckline of the singlet and reached out to help her up.
I didn't miss how her breasts swayed with her rising movements and how her nipples poked through her singlet. I wished they were poking something else instead.
Fuck. My pants were slowly growing tighter…again.
She finally looked at me. “Good evening, sir.”
“Evening.” I pressed my lips into a thin line. Her expression seemed to go from blank to something I couldn't decipher.
“I'm sorry for barging into you, I went to the kitchen for a glass of water, and I didn't know I'd see you here. If I had known, I'd have—”
I drowned out her words. This was the thing about her. She was a psychologist but couldn't seem to be able to read moods. Why couldn't she get that most of her explanations were unwarranted?
“There's no need for that.” I deadpanned. “Move aside.”
“Why?”
I traced the thinness of her lips to her eyes. Was she trying to make me talk?
“Why, sir?” She let out softly. Something about it hardened my growing tent. I was almost shocked at the amount of softness her voice held. Her replies usually held an undertone of distaste.
Well, if she was trying to waste my time for whatever reasons, she would fail.
“Do not waste my time.”
She breathed, my eyes briefly moving to her chest. “If you keep pushing me aside this way, it won't help our professional relationship. I'm trying to be cordial… I’m trying to make you see that this… strain won't help us. Most importantly, it won’t help Sophie.”
I wasn't expecting that. I didn't know if she was expecting a response. But I had none.
“Sophie… reacts to almost everything except questions. This establishes the fact that she's well aware of her surroundings and understands other cognitive factors. I also think her wardrobe needs an upgrade as she keeps staring at her reflection every day after dressing with no reaction. It's subtle but she tends to shy away from the color red. I think it may be triggering, considering there might have been blood when the accident happened.”
My brows furrowed before I started to release them. No nanny or therapist had ever mentioned the second point.
“Having mentioned this, all that is left to stimulate her is the right condition,” she breathed, holding my gaze. “She's like a flower, waiting for the right conditions to bloom.”
Her words replayed in my head again.
“No one has ever put it that way.”
Not me, not anyone.
She smiled. “I'm glad I could do that.”
I watched her tuck a piece of hair behind her ear as she kept her head bowed towards the floor.
Silence settled as I thought about all she said. It took the others months to figure out two of the points, but she figured it out in less than two weeks.
Her hair framed the side of her face, shielding her eyes from me. I wanted to see them at this moment. The urge to trace the soft curve of her jaw was overwhelming. And the urge to trace her every other curve was tempting.
Instinctively, my eyes scanned the contour of her nose. They seemed more pointed, exactly like James’s. Just as the thought of her father crossed my mind, I shook myself. Before I could speak, she lowered herself, then stretched out her arm.
I blinked when I found my flash drive in her palms. For a moment I had forgotten about that.
“That was important,” I remarked for lack of a better thing to say.
