Page 27 of No Asylum Here

If she recognized me, she didn’t allow it to show on her face.

Her office was probably the nicest room in the entire asylum. It even had a window. I swallowed, the sun pouring over my face like the bitter memory it was.

There was a little potted plant on her desk. Scattered papers from what I assumed was my scrubbed patient file—Rook would never tell her the truth.

Her medical degree from UCSF was framed and mounted behind her desk. The entire room smelled of her.

Even if she was my enemy, this office was as close to heaven as you could get at Saint Bart’s.

Her eyes dropped, and her professional smile—which was fake as fuck—faltered for a beat before her gaze snapped back to mine.

My lips splayed as far as they could, and I knew she could see through the metal bars fixed into my leather mask positioned over my mouth. “Recognize me, Doc?”

Clearing her throat, she collected a pencil and medical pad from her desktop and took a seat on the small sofa opposing me. “No. Should I?”

I didn’t know if I believed her, but I’d play along for now.

“You’re fresh out of your residency by the look of your sweet baby face. If you’re really a doctor.”

Her lips puckered into a sexy little scowl. “Of course I’m a real doctor. Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I’m not qualified to help you.”

At that, I cackled. “Oh, you are nowhere near qualified to help me. And your age has the least to do with why.”

Tuesday’s jaw ticked. “Enlighten me.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

The air between us buzzed with heated intensity.

Her gaze dropped to watch my tongue flick over my lips.

There was no missing the flame of her cheeks. Finally, a reaction. My dick twitched with triumph.

“L–Let’s start at the beginning, Mal. Your file⁠—”

Instant rage burned through me at the mention of my first name. “Next time you call me that, I’ll break out of these chains, rip off your head and fuck both your eye sockets, Dr. Beckett.”

I expected her to cringe.

To at least flinch.

She only sat there, pinning me with a glare I felt in my bones and my balls. “I thought you were a murdering cannibal. Not a murdering rapist. Which one is it, Mal?”

The fucking nerve of this bitch.

I was sucking up every bit of it.

“Do you have a death wish?” I purred, the tip of my tongue curling around one of the bars in my mask.

Sure, she was already dead, but she didn’t know that.

Tuesday remained unflappable, at least in appearance. Her heart had launched into breakneck speed.

She crossed her legs, and my cock flexed again at the glimpse of her plump thighs as her skirt rode up. Her knuckles tightened around her pen.

“We’re talking about you today, try to focus. That way I might be able to prescribe some medication that might⁠—”

“Why would I talk to you? You’re one of them.”