Library

Chapter 4

Emma

Twenty minutes after my strange encounter with the mysterious Viktor, I was puttering around my office getting ready for my patients when my cellphone rang. It was Uncle Charles. I connected, wondering what was going on. “Hello?”

“Hi, Emma honey. Are you all right?”

I frowned. He sounded a little worried. He was generally a bit detached, showing his feelings through actions instead of words. “I’m fine, why do you ask?”

“I heard you had some person hanging around outside your work this morning.”

A shock went through me, then surprise, anger, and a tiny, grudging touch of gratitude. “You’ve been having me watched again.” This was the fourth time I’d either caught him at it or had him admit it.

“Of course I am, dear, it’s dangerous out there and you and Nick are my only family.” No apology for the invasion of privacy. I had only tried to get one once, when I had been nineteen and had caught his hired man tailing me on a date. I was frustrated, but not disappointed or even surprised.

“A man showed up seeking treatment. He wasn’t threatening, but it was a little strange. He gave me a business card, but all it has is a phone number.”

“And his name?”

“Viktor. No family name.”

“Give me the phone number.” His voice had a strangely cold note to it.

“You really don’t have to—”

“Better safe than sorry, young lady. You decided to defy common sense and go out working and being independent instead of staying home with me. Los Angeles is a dangerous city. You know that.”

I caved in and gave him the number. The man had run background checks on every guy I had dated, and I’m sure some of my professors and employers too. He had the worst case of rich-guy paranoia I had ever seen, and refused to admit he had a problem. I tried to be patient with him, but sometimes it felt like my privacy was being violated far too much for it to be just a matter of a concerned relative.

You’re smothering me again. I knew it came from a place of love, but that beyond anything else, it was the very quality that had driven me out of his household. I wanted my freedom. But with freedom came danger, and my uncle knew that.

We said our goodbyes, and he disconnected after promising to share any information his investigator found, and extracting a promise from me to visit that weekend for supper. When I got off the phone, I sighed in exasperation and put it on vibrate, preparing to ignore it completely for the next four hours of sessions.

I couldn’t forget Viktor all morning. I was distracted by the memory of his face, his voice, his scent. The strangeness of our meeting. How much my body had responded to his presence, a mix of desire and fear. I could tell where the desire came from, I couldn’t remember the last time I had met someone so attractive, and I had met celebrities. But the fear surprised me. I wondered where it had come from, and why my instincts had screamed at me to refuse him. I put it down to the strange feeling I had had earlier that morning, and hoped my uncle’s paranoia wasn’t catching.

Other than that, my day so far was almost painfully normal.

My ten o’clock, Mike, went through half a box of tissues dealing with the divorce papers he had just been served. I had warned him for six months that it was coming, but it had still hit like a sledgehammer. I felt bad for the guy, even though I had warned him more than once that his porn addiction and cheating were sending his marriage off a cliff.

My eleven o’clock, Annabelle, had a breakthrough with her body issues, finally buying clothes that fit instead of getting them two sizes too small and trying to use that as an incentive to starve herself. The last thing she needed right was to fall back into disordered eating now that her mother—her abuser—was fresh in her grave.

Everything else was a blur of routine, therapy sessions, paperwork, a lunchtime trip to the shipping store to send out invitations for our Fourth of July picnic. I had been out of stamps. When I got there the wait didn’t look that long, which was a relief, because I was meeting my best friend Darcy for sandwiches in fifteen minutes.

Standing in line at the store with an armful of envelopes, I thought I glimpsed a fancy black coupe driving slowly by the glass storefront. I turned to look at it, the windows of the vehicle were darkened, making it impossible for me to see if it was the man from earlier or someone else at the wheel. It picked up speed and drove on after a few seconds, blending into traffic and leaving me wondering if it had been Viktor, or if my imagination was playing tricks.

Darcy was running a bit late, she texted me her order as I stood in line at the bagel place, promising to pay me back as soon as she found a damn parking space. Finally, just as I was being rung up, she swept through the door, looking frazzled.

Darcy Adams had gone through UCLA with me, but her education as a psychotherapist had been brutally cut short when her now ex-husband had decided to sabotage her—by sabotaging her birth control. She had taken him for everything in the divorce, sold their overpriced, sprawling house, and bought a small art gallery. Now she sold overpriced modern art to overly wealthy stars, directors, producers, and their hangers-on then went home and rocked the single-mom life harder than I could ever have managed.

She wore slim velvet trousers in deep purple, a cream silk blouse that popped against her dark skin, rimless glasses, and a duster made from patches of sari fabric in shades of purple, cream, and copper. Gold gleamed on her fingers and wrists and capped each of her pharaoh’s bob of braids. Her deep brown eyes sparkled with good humor, despite the look of controlled tension on her face. Her eyeshadow was a layered confection that matched her coat. A faint cloud of Chanel No. 5 followed her over to me as I turned to walk to a table.

She hugged me by putting her slim hands on my shoulders and kissing the air on either side of my face. “Darling! How have you been doing since my last show? It’s been ages.”

It had been three weeks, with both of us incredibly busy the entire time. “Not much. Just super busy with the new clients and Nick’s end-of-school stuff. He outgrew his shoes again.”

She chuckled as we sat at the table. “That boy’s going to grow up tall. Seems he’s already gotten a head start. Guessing he takes after his daddy.” She smiled brilliantly. “I’m guessing my baby’s going to take after me. How’s the little guy doing with summer coming?”

“He’s worried he won’t see his friends again. I told him we can have them over, and maybe arrange some play dates.”

“Not going to talk about sleepovers with him yet?”

“God, no, I think I’d lose it if he was out of my sight for a whole night.” My laugh sounded high and nervous. I forced a smile.

She tilted her head slightly, bird-bright eyes fixed on my face. “You seem a little stressed, sweetheart. You sure nothing’s happened?”

I hesitated. I didn’t know how I could explain how off-kilter the whole morning had been. First that weird moment at home that had me checking all the locks, then the strange encounter before I’d even gotten in the door at work. “Just some weirdness this morning. There was a guy waiting for me outside my office this morning. He came in cold, looking for a therapist. It was a little unusual. Not sure I can explain exactly how. Just something about him, I guess.”

“Well, what was weird? Just the way he caught you off-guard first thing?”

“That was probably part of it,” I admitted. “But no. This man... he seemed so in control. Not like the kind of men who come to me looking for treatment, they’re always embarrassed to admit they need help, especially to a woman. He was so sure of himself it was like he was discussing the weather, not treatment for his mental illness.”

She took a sip of her drink, holding her cup daintily between gold-manicured fingers. “Well, you know what I’ve always said about trusting your instincts. Did you feel any fear around him?”

“I...” I frowned, thinking back to my brief meeting with Viktor. “I didn’t feel like he was a threat to me exactly, but I didn’t trust him. There was something off about his story. I feel like maybe he had some other reason to come in and seek treatment.”

“Or come in and talk to you. Have you ever seen him before?” She lifted an eyebrow slightly.

“No, I’ve never seen the man before in my life. I would definitely remember.”

“What did this guy look like?”

My brow furrowed. How much detail to give? But then I just smiled awkwardly. “Smoking hot.”

“Oh! Huh. I haven’t heard that from you for a while. What flavor of hot?”

“Tall, dark and pale, neat beard, blue eyes. Very intense, but not in a threatening way. More brooding than overbearing or anything. He was huge, but he didn’t carry himself like a bully or anything.”

“What did he carry himself like?”

I thought back to Viktor, his quiet charisma, the power I felt when I stared into those eyes. Like the heat from a bonfire—so much will, so much ferocious strength. I couldn’t imagine anything in the world ever scaring him.

If only I felt like I could trust him at all, I would have called the number on the card he’d given me. Not to offer therapy sessions, either.

“Like a cross between a military man and one of those old-school businessmen who still has some actual sense of honor.” I considered. “And throw in a dash of Bond Villain.”

“Huh. Russian?”

“That’s my guess from his accent. But if he is, he’s lived here a long time.”

She chuckled into her drink and then took a swallow. “Russian guys are definitely a special breed. My sister’s married to one, and he has five brothers. They can get very intense, just by nature. When they’re not going through the stupid phase of being young, anyway. I swear to God, my brother-in-law used to be the king of hold-my-beer moments.”

I took a mouthful of my own drink, smiling lopsidedly. “Ever had to bail him out of jail?”

“No, but it was a near thing a couple of times. We’ve had to go running out to the ER several times because of him. Not anywhere near as much these days, but when he was in his twenties... yeah. I would say it happened at least once every six months or so.”

“Damn. I’m really glad he grew out of that eventually. Otherwise, that would be hell to deal with.” I couldn’t easily imagine the calm, controlled man I met this morning engaging in reckless stunts, beer-fueled or otherwise. Though maybe when he had been younger, he’d had his share of such misadventures.

“So are you going to call him back?”

I thought about it, but then smiled and shook my head, I had to trust my instincts on this one. “I’d like to, I’ve got to admit the man makes me swoon a little, but if I can’t trust him, there can’t be a relationship.”

She smiled faintly. “Amen to that, sister.” Then her smile faded away again. “I wanted to ask how you’re doing otherwise. It’s getting around that time of year again, and I know you get depressed thinking about it.”

I tensed and set my drink down. “Yeah. I guess I have been thinking about it a little more than usual. But I mean... you’re right, it’s coming up on the anniversary of their deaths. I suppose I should expect to feel kind of off right now.”

Growing up, I’d had a family. Parents, a sister. Now I had neither.

The parents we’d lost in a car accident when we’d both been very young. Uncle Charles had taken us under his wing to keep us from getting lost in the system, and my childhood had been fine thanks to his stepping in. Fine, save for the one pain, the one young children shouldn’t have to bear. I’d missed my mom and dad like I might miss a lost limb. I still did sometimes, though I’d learned to cope with it. But even so, it was always worse on the anniversary of their deaths. As a psychiatrist I knew all about the grieving process and the triggers, but still, when it related to me and not a patient, then it was different.

She looked at me sympathetically. “Yeah, honey. Around this time every year you tell me you feel off, or you just plain look stressed, and then you’re surprised it still happens.”

“I guess I am. I was so young. I mostly remember their faces from pictures. You’d think it would fade.”

“You’re talking to the lady who hasn’t dealt with her drunk uncle since she was six, and I still get nervous when people drink too much on Christmas.” She looked a little exasperated with herself.

It made me feel better, but still… “He knocked over the tree and accidentally set it on fire, honey, I think you’re allowed.”

“And you’re allowed to mourn your parents, sweetie. Especially on the anniversary of their death.”

My mouth went dry and my eyes stung. She would have made a hell of a therapist. I hoped she would decide to go back to school some day, but I knew better than to bring that up again. “Yeah, you’ve got a point. I guess I just need to stay aware of it, give myself a break, try to distract myself.”

Darcy flashed me a grin. “Maybe you should call up that mystery guy anyway. Ask him out. Surprise the hell out of him. Now that could be a nice distraction.”

“Yeah,” I replied thoughtfully. “Maybe.” Just thinking about it sent a little flush of heat through me. But it also reminded me of how wary I had felt around that mysterious, intense man.

I didn’t want to be with anyone who didn’t make me feel safe. That should have been the end of it. His card should have gone in the garbage. But I still wanted him, despite the feeling of danger… and that scared me more than anything.

Comments

0 Comments
Best Newest

Contents
Settings
  • T
  • T
  • T
  • T
Font

Welcome to FullEpub

Create or log into your account to access terrific novels and protect your data

Don’t Have an account?
Click above to create an account.

lf you continue, you are agreeing to the
Terms Of Use and Privacy Policy.