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“Miss Irvine.” I level her with a piercing gaze, crossing an ankle on top of one knee. “How would you say you’re doing today?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Marcus
Her first reaction is to blink.
My little doll gapes at me. She’s confused by the change in my approach.
There’s no denying the venom in my voice. The images of Leighton and Milo in college, miles away from me, materialize in my head. Each one more vulgar.
They poison me.
This isn’t her fault.
She must’ve missed me. Must’ve been lonely. Could’ve given up to temptation with a simple “Get on your knees” command. She’d have hated herself for betraying Ry. For choosing another man over me.
But he didn’t care. He used her.
That motherfucker.
I don’t let my resentment for him show. I even swallow down the hate so it wouldn’t show in my voice.
I’ve been seeing patients long enough to slip into my psychiatrist role easily.
“Well?” I ask.
Her lips pinch together as she’s figuring out who the fuck am I. What’s happened to me. How could she have missed Mr. Hyde who’s been lurking underneath my Dr. Jekyll façade.
She hasn’t missed a damn thing.
She loved the man who’d been jerking off with the door ajar while she—my daughter’s best friend—was sleeping over. She can’t deny she sensed something was off about me.
She can’t sit here and tell herself she hasn’t seen the deviant side of me.
She can’t say she doesn’t love that it just the same.
Yet she does. Denying what's so obvious to the both of us.
Not for long.
One of these days, she’ll learn to accept both sides of this twisted coin.
There’s no fighting it. I’m not going anywhere until she does.
The other two items placed on the table earlier today were my legal pad and a pen. I pick them up, jotting at the top of the page—Leighton June Irvine, session 1.
Her eyes skate to my cursive handwriting. Her fingers stroke the arms of her chair.
She hates me. She loves me. She’s intrigued by me.
All good signs.
“You’re awfully quiet.” I cock my head. “Care to tell me what’s been bothering you?”
Leighton’s blue eyes rise to mine. I recognize her conviction and the rest of her emotions that are out there on display.
“You’re sick,” she hisses.
