10. Senses

Chapter 10

Senses

I was trained to be perceptive, observant, and completely aware of my surroundings. Guns are useful, but they're reactive. Senses though... They're proactive. They're the most important weapons in my armory. And I need all my senses on high alert. At all times.

Otherwise?

I am not in control.

"I don't like this," I grunt, my eyelashes scratching against the silk fabric of Hayden's tie as the sound of jackhammers, traffic, and distant conversation floods my ears. "I'm taking it off."

"Stop." He curls his fingers around my right wrist before I can slip off the blindfold. His tight grip relaxes as he adds in a gentler tone, "You can't give up before we even start, Camilla."

"This was a stupid idea," I grumble, pulling my arm away. "I'm going to end up walking into oncoming traffic. "

"I can assure you that will not happen," he says with a low chuckle, placing his palm on my upper back, my spine arching at his touch. "Seeing as you're currently my only patient, it would be bad for business if you were to die."

"So, I'm just a payday to you, Doctor?" I cross my arms. "How charming."

"I'm not here to charm you, Camilla," he says, leaning into my ear. "I'm here to help you." My jaw tenses as I try to swallow away a clump of bubbling hope. "So let me help you, okay?" Begrudgingly, I nod. "Excellent. I'm going to be one step behind you at all times, okay? Just listen to the sound of my voice, Camilla. Not the traffic, the horns, the people, only me. Understand?"

"Yes." My chest rises as he creates space between us.

And now I'm alone in thundering darkness. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, hoping it'll mute the surrounding noises. But it's overwhelming. The clatter, the chatter, the?—

"Take a deep breath for me." His voice slices through the noise, and my body relaxes. "Good, just like that. Now walk." I hesitate before taking a step. "Walk, Camilla," he commands like a soft-spoken Marine. "You'll be fine. I've got you."

I've got you. He used to tell me that all the time. I've got you, baby. I won't let you fall. I believed him. He never lied. He never let me fall or trip or stumble. And occasionally, when I did, he was there to catch me.

It felt safe .

It's not his voice this time, but for some reason, it feels safe to walk again.

"Okay," I whisper, putting one foot in front of the other in controlled, careful movements, tuning out everything other than Hayden's instructions.

Walk. Stop. Turn. Left. Right. Walk. Stop. Repeat.

The further we walk, the more my hesitation seems to wane. At no point do I fall. At no point do I trip. At no point do I stumble and crash. He's keeping me upright. He's keeping me standing. But more importantly, he's keeping his word.

I appreciate a man with a strong verbal handshake. Those types of men earn my trust. Not instantly but eventually. Hayden tells me to stop again once we cross a street. I hope his word doesn't waver. It would be a shame to cut out such an intriguing tongue.

"You can take the blindfold off now," he says. "We're here."

I slide off the tie, squinting as my eyes adjust to the sunlight. I frown, looking around Central Park. "And why are we here?"

"It's a beautiful day." He gestures to a bench. His playful gaze flits across my face. "Or would you prefer to sit in my office and talk?"

I sigh. "We're going to talk now?"

"That is how this works." He removes his blazer and rolls up his sleeves. "So? Here or in my office? Your choice."

"Would you let me smoke in your office?" I ask, taking a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket as I sit down on the wooden bench .

"No." He takes a seat beside me and angles his body toward me. "Definitely not."

"Then I suppose this works." I light the smoke and take a drag, fiddling with his tie in my other hand. My eyes narrow before flicking up to Hayden. Interesting. "Nice knot, Doc. This blindfold wasn't going anywhere, huh?"

Hayden cocks his head to the side, amusement tugging his lip. "A girl scout?"

"No," I smirk, ashing my smoke as I meet his curious gaze. "Just a fan of tying things up." I pause. "Really, really , tight."

"That's good..." Hayden clenches his right fist, the muscles in his forearm tensing as he clears his throat. "It's important to have basic survival training."

"Right." I let out a faint laugh, pleased with myself. God, he's entertaining. "Survival training, we'll go with that."

Hayden hums in annoyed agreement before asking in a clinical tone, "How do you feel after that exercise?"

"Fine, I guess." I shrug. Great, it's starting. "You didn't let me get hit by a car or fall into a manhole, so I'd say it was a success, right?"

"If that's your definition of success then yes," he muses, hiking his ankle over his thigh. "You were quite apprehensive before we started, it's not easy giving up control, but it got easier, didn't it?"

"Mhmm," I hum uncomfortably, craning my neck toward the dog park. I smile, watching a pitbull puppy chase an older lab. "Can you believe some states have breeding bans? Look at that tiny little bean. Completely harmless. It's people that should be banned, not animals." I sigh, glancing at Hayden who's pensive in thought. "You don't agree?"

"No, I do," he says. "Animals are like humans in my opinion. Products of their environment. No human is born evil or violent; the same goes for animals."

I take a puff of the smoke. "You think evil is a learned trait?"

"Everything stems from something, Camilla," he replies. "There's always a reason. It's what makes human psychology so fascinating. It's why I do what I do."

"And what is it that you do, Doc?" I ask. "Help people discover the reasons why their lives are fucked up? I know why my life's fucked up. I don't need to pay a shrink two hundred dollars an hour to tell me."

"Really? How self-aware," he chuckles, rubbing his chin. "Please enlighten me then. Why is your life fucked up, Camilla?"

I snort. "Nice try, Doc, but I'm not about to Dear Diary a man who doesn't even know how I like my coffee in the morning." I pause, putting out the smoke. "Black, one cream, by the way."

"See? We're getting somewhere." He tilts his head. "Tell me more about yourself then. The truth this time." He expels a stifled laugh. "I had a hard time believing you were a stunt double as you jotted down on your intake form."

"Why?" I smirk, shifting closer to Hayden. "You don't think I havethe strength or stamina to perform dangerous stunts?" I place my hand on his thigh and bat my lashes. "Because believe me, I do . "

"I suppose I'll just have to trust you on that one," he says in a gritty tone, glancing down at my hand as I pull it away. He looks up at me, his Adam's apple rippling before he asks, "What do you actually do? On the days you're not flinging yourself off buildings, that is."

I bite my lip. He doesn't know who I am. No one does. Unless you're a part of the criminal underworld, for all intents and purposes, I'm just a business owner. A successful one at that. I suppose there's no harm in sharing my life on paper.

"I own a club. Suffer N' Rage," I divulge. "It's downtown. Have you heard of it?"

"Suffer N' Rage?" he asks, shaking his head. "Can't say that I have." A pause. "That's a rather aggressive name for a nightclub, though."

" Strip club," I say, tossing him a coy wink. "And it's a play on words."

"Suffer N' Rage," he mumbles to himself, pursing his lips. My gaze darts to the plump pink flesh, wishing they were much much closer. Mmm. "As in...suffrage?"

"Exactly," I mutter, wondering how hard I could bite his lips before the skin breaks. "It's an homage to feminism."

"And it's a strip club?" he asks, evidently confused. "That's an...interesting take."

"Why?" I blink, snapping myself back. "Because you don't think stripping is empowering?"

"Some might say it objectifies women," he says passively with a nonchalant shrug.

"Yeah, that someone is probably a man," I snort. "And who said it's only women who dance at my club, hmm? I've got a flavor to satisfy anyone's palette. Men, women, and everyone in between." I tilt my head, gaze flicking to the tie on the bench. "What's your flavor, Doc? I have a feeling it's not vanilla."

"Vanilla's a bit boring, isn't it?" He picks up the tie and rolls it between his fingers, the fabric bunching up slowly. He catches my stare, the corner of his lip clipping into a knowing smirk. "I prefer more complex flavors."

"Really?" I hum, my skin starting to heat. "Funny, me too."

"Yeah?" He watches as I take off my jacket, his conflicted gaze struggling to look away. "What's your favorite flavor, Camilla?"

"Mine?" I give him a sweet smile, flipping my hair off my shoulders. "Oh, I like anything with big chunks of nuts. The bigger, the better."

"Big isn't always better," he notes in a strained tone. "Sometimes the smaller the nut, the bigger the flavor."

"Really?" I grin. "Guess I need to try more nuts, huh, Doc? Got any recommenda—" Before I can finish my sentence, Hayden's arm darts forward. A flying tennis ball slams into his palm seconds before hitting my face. I jerk back, grabbing my chest. "Holy shit!"

"Jesus Christ. Are you alright?" Hayden asks, gripping the ball in his hands. He looks over at a woman jogging toward us, a worried look plastered across her face. "Is this yours?"

"I'm so sorry!" she pants, stopping on the other side of the bench. She glances down at me apologetically. She holds up the tennis ball launcher in her hand. "I'm still learning how to use this and?—"

"It's fine, I had the same problem." I wave her off. I take the launcher from her hand and grip the handle. "You're probably just holding it wrong. Try it like this, okay?" I hand it back, pointing to the field. "Which one's yours?"

She sighs, shaking her head. "The little one that doesn't listen."

"Be stern but kind, you'll get there," I say. "Just takes a bit of patience."

"Thanks." She offers me a sweet smile. "I take it yours is a bit more obedient?"

I laugh. "Mine's pushing fourteen and kind of does whatever he wants at this point. He's earned that right, I think."

"Old dog privilege?"

I grin. "Exactly."

"Okay, well thank you, and sorry again!" she says. "Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Yeah, maybe." I turn back to Hayden, who's frowning at me. I blink. "What?"

"Nothing," he mutters, brows furrowed. "I forgot you have a dog. He's fourteen?"

"Yeah, he is," I say quickly, wanting to change the subject. "You caught that ball really fast. Good reflexes, Doc."

"I played baseball in college." He hitches a shoulder. "For a couple years."

"Really?" I ask dubiously. "I don't see it."

"See what?"

"You don't look like a baseball player to me. Doesn't fit your whole... vibe . "

"My vibe?" He perks a brow. "And what's my vibe ?"

I roll my eyes. He's making fun of me. Asshole. "Athletes are generally more...vibrant and, umm...easy-going in my opinion. You, on the other hand, look like you have a constant rain cloud hovering over your head."

"I guess that makes two of us." He cocks his head. "Perhaps we have more in common than you think."

"Are you trying to relate to me, Doc?" I stand up and stretch out my arms. "Hoping it'll help me open up?"

"There are benefits to standing on common ground." He leans back against the bench as I stretch. "What are you doing?"

"I don't like sitting for extended periods of time." I roll my neck before making direct eye contact with the doc. "But laying down?" I wiggle my brows. "I could be convinced."

"There's a couch in my office you can lay down on. If that's your preference for sessions."

"Not the kind of lying I was talking about, Doc." I give him a sly grin as my phone vibrates. "Maybe one day, I'll show you." I pull out my phone, cringing as all the texts from Zoey pop up on the screen, most of them telling me to call my dad back. Fuck’s sake. "Listen, Doc, I gotta go."

"Our session's not over yet." He pushes himself off the bench. "We have fifteen more minutes."

"It's a work emergency," I say. "Takes precedent."

"What's the emergency?" he asks shamelessly. "Maybe I can help."

"I doubt that." I laugh to myself. "But thanks for the offer. This is a mess only a boss can clean up. "

"I see," he hums. "Does it have anything to do with what happened last night?"

I stiffen. "A little bit, yes."

"What exactly happened?"

"Nothing." I grab my jacket off the park bench. "Just a vendor trying to back out of a contract. It's fine. Happens all the time."

"I would hope it doesn't," he muses. "Otherwise, you might run out of mirrors to smash."

I peer up at him, my lip twitching. "Good thing you'll teach me how to control my frustration next time, right? " My phone buzzes again. "Shit. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Tomorrow," Hayden says. "At noon."

"Can't. Busy tomorrow."

He frowns. "Then when?"

"I'll text you when I'm free." I pocket my cell phone as I walk away. I crane my neck, adding, "And no more noon, Doc. I'd prefer my therapy with dinner."

"My hours are nine to five, Camilla," he calls out. "That's nonnegotiable."

I smirk. "You already made a late-night house call, Doc."

He adjusts his glasses. "That was an exception."

"Trust me," I say, putting on my jacket. "You're going to have to make a lot of exceptions for me."

"I don't break rules, Miss Bianco," he states, an edge to his voice.

"Yeah—" I give him a shrug, "—but I do. And I'm very good at it."

"I—"

"Talk soon, Doctor Malcolm," I coo, walking away. "Don't miss me too much."

My phone vibrates again, and I clench my fist.

Suddenly spilling my guts in Central Park seems like a better time than dealing with this bullshit.

Huh.

Maybe I'll miss him first.