Home > Until I Break(28)

Until I Break(28)
Author: M. Leighton

She says nothing, just continues to watch me, nibbling her lip anxiously.

I clear my throat and step further away from her, giving her a buffer, both physical and emotional.

“Since you’re already here,” I say, making my way to the cleverly-concealed bar against one wall, “you might as well have a drink.”

There’s a pause before I hear her sharp, judgmental reply.

“It’s eleven a.m.”

“Yes, it is. But my body is still on Eastern Standard Time.”

“It’s only two o’clock there.”

I shrug as I pour a finger of perfectly aged scotch into each of two snifters. “Right you are, but I think we’ve both earned a little liquid relaxation, don’t you?” I ask, turning with a glass in each hand.

She’s still standing near the door, looking like she’ll bolt if it so much as cracks open. It’s incongruous—seeing her react this way while dressed as the confident Laura Drake. It’s just a testament to how dramatically I underestimated Samantha Jansen. She’s so much more than meets the eye!

I walk to the sofa, situated directly across from the fireplace, and I hold one glass out to her. I see her eyes dart from my face to the glass and back again. When, after a few seconds, she has neither moved nor spoken, I try to reason with her.

“You were all set to explore a very sexual relationship with me and now you won’t sit in a professional office and have a drink?”

“I was not going—”

“Don’t lie, Samantha,” I interrupt sharply. “It doesn’t become you.”

I set her snifter on a coaster on one end of the coffee table and I take a seat on the couch at the opposite end. I cross my legs and throw my arm over the back of the cushion in a non-threatening manner as I sip my drink. The alcohol burns all the way down, not unlike this whole situation.

I know it’s for the best. I shouldn’t have been…dabbling again anyway. I should see this unfortunate turn of events as fortunate. Now, we are both safe from me.

“This doesn’t have to end uncomfortably. We can be civil, have a drink before you go your way and I go mine. Our goodbye doesn’t have to be ugly.”

But, judging by the expression on her face, it very much will be.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - Samantha

I was all right until he added that last part. The word “goodbye” shakes me. I don’t know why. It’s not like this—whatever “this” is—has really had a chance to become anything yet. In fact, a large part of it has blossomed inside my head, where Alec and Mason have become inextricably entwined.

The part that stings is the loss of hope. The loss of the hope of more. The lure of it. I would never have admitted it to Chris or myself, but, deep down, I had begun to agree with her in thinking that Alec might be the one to help me move beyond the past. Despite the flip-flopping and indecision, ultimately I was hoping Alec was my Mason—the destructive force that can be extremely caring in the right hands. In my hands.

Pain at the thought of this being over before it started, however, is only part of what has me pausing in my retreat. The other motivator is the idea of getting some answers. I don’t particularly like the thought of me answering Alec’s questions, but I do like the thought of him being agreeable to answering some of mine.

I’m not sure which is the more powerful incentive, but something urges me across the room toward Alec and has me sitting cautiously on the end of the couch, opposite him. He already knows my secret. Answering a few more questions surely won’t be the end of the world. In fact, some small part of me almost looks forward to finally being able to bare my soul to someone, even if I have to use the excuse of quid pro quo to do it.

“I go first,” I say as I lean forward to wrap my cold fingers around the even colder glass.

Alec nods, his eyes never leaving mine. “Okay.”

“What’s your real name?”

“Alexandre Buraquinho. My parents are of Brazilian descent.”

“Why do you use a different name to do your work in—”

“I believe it’s my turn,” he interrupts calmly. I nod and wait for his question. “Did your mother involve you in her…work?”

My mouth drops open.

I start with a reasonable question and he jumps in with this?

“That’s not…I don’t think…”

“I answered your question, Samantha,” he points out nonchalantly.

“But I—”

“It’s not my fault you chose to start with such banality.”

I feel the tension around my mouth as my lips draw into a tight, straight line. Already, I feel like I’ve been had. If I’m to continue this, I need to be smarter about the questions I ask because I have no intention of answering all Alec’s probing inquiries about my childhood.

But this one, I have to answer if I’m to get any insight of my own. “No, she never did.” Which is true. It was never her.

Alec nods, his eyes piercing my soul as he searches for…something.

“Why didn’t you introduce yourself as Dr. B when we met in Charleston? I was already your patient.”

“I knew you weren’t ready to meet face-to-face yet.”

“Yet you came to see me anyway. Don’t you think that’s a bit unprofessional?”

Alec shrugs, completely unconcerned. “Maybe. But I wanted to see Laura Drake in her natural environment.”

“Why?”

“She fascinates me.”

“Why?” I ask again.

“Because I felt like we had a lot in common?”

“You don’t know anything about me. You—”

“Oh, I can deduce plenty from reading your work.”

Understanding dawns, and with it comes crushing disappointment. I feel a lump form in my throat. “So I’m like some sort of work project to you? Some kind of freak to observe and dissect?”

Again, he shrugs. “I have a clinical interest in you, yes.” Hearing him say it aloud is nearly devastating. On top of everything else, I feel like such a fool. I take another sip of scotch, focusing on the sting of the fluid as it sears my throat. I have to get out of here.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Dr. Buraquinho, but you won’t be getting inside my head.” My smile is tight and sarcastic, and my jaws ache from gritting my teeth.

   
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