“We’ll see,” I say quietly before I turn and leave him behind.
********
“Holy shit in a brown paper bag! What are the odds?” Chris asks in her colorful way.
“Promise me you didn’t know about this.”
“Of course I didn’t know! I’ve only read some articles written by Dr. B. I thought he was a she, too. There are never any pictures and they’re always attributed to Dr. A. Buraquinho. How was I supposed to know a man would know that much about women and sex? I mean, Dr. Ruth. Female. Hello!”
Although I’m still a little suspicious, I don’t think Chris would ever lie to me. At least I hope she wouldn’t. We’ve both been through too much in life to betray what little bit of trust we can find.
“Chris, seriously, I almost had heart failure.”
“I can imagine,” she replies. “So, what the hell are you going to do? You’re not thinking about going back, are you?”
When she says it like that, it makes me sound insane for even considering it. But I am. Considering it, that is. I have more questions. Or at least that’s what I’ve been telling myself all day. I have more questions and he owes me answers. But, deep down, I know I want more time, too. More time in his presence, more time with my Mason.
Because the two got twisted together in my brain, I feel as though letting go of one would mean letting go of the other. And I’m not ready to do that.
“Sam?” she prompts when I haven’t answered.
“I don’t know Chris. I feel like I’m losing my mind. I just… I just don’t know what to do.”
“Well, you know I’ll support you in whatever you decide, but be careful, Sam. This guy could be dangerous.”
Now she tells me!
I don’t respond.
Because I already knew that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - Alec
It’s hard to be objective about my motives now. My professional interest and my sexual interest are now indivisibly tangled when it comes to Samantha Jansen. I was simply intrigued, clinically speaking, by Laura Drake.
Mostly.
If I’m being brutally honest with myself, I have to admit that, upon meeting her, I was attracted to Laura Drake, even though she’s not the kind of female that normally does it for me. Since Alyssa, I’ve pretty much avoided women like that. Maybe it’s a matter of once burned, twice shy. Or maybe it’s a matter of self-preservation. Alyssa nearly destroyed my life.
I shudder to think what would become of me if something like that happened now, at this point in my life. Even though I’ve advanced in maturity, control and age, it’s not worth the risk.
Yet, here I am. Contemplating taking just such a gamble. It wouldn’t have been an issue when Samantha was just Samantha. But now she’s Samantha and Laura. She’s what I want most, yet what I abhor. And it’s a potent cocktail. She’s a potent cocktail. Forbidden fruit mixed with my one true weakness. It’s as delicious as it is ill-advised.
I probably shouldn’t have left the ball in her court the way I did. I should’ve said goodbye and moved on to other interesting subjects. But I didn’t.
At least I know now that she’s not as inexperienced as I’d once thought. While that was part of the appeal, this combination—wild thing under wraps and innocent thing with issues—quite possibly holds even more allure. But with Laura Drake in the mix, if she proceeds, I know it will be with eyes wide open.
And when I break her, she’ll have no one to blame but herself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - Samantha
I know I should leave, leave while I have the chance. I see what he does to the women in his life. I see that they are never quite freed of him. That’s the kind of trouble that I don’t need.
And yet, I know that, even as I sit here debating the wisdom of a relationship with Mason, that I will go forward. It is beyond my control now. Giving him one inch, I knew he would take a mile. And that I would let him.
There is no doubt I will enjoy the ride. But I have to try and survive it as well.
That’s the hard part.
Daire Kirby—the fictional mirror image of the twisted wreckage of my life. Like her, I’m faced with an out; a way to avoid what I know could be unspeakable pleasure as well as unspeakable pain. But also like Daire, I’ll choose the path that takes me right through the fires of hell. I know it as surely as I’m sitting here, getting ready to call for the cab that will take me back to Alec’s office. Back to him.
My fingers hover over the number pad on the telephone. I watch as they tremble ever so slightly. And then, with an uncertain definitiveness, I press the buttons for the taxi service.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - Alec
I’m not really surprised when Paris, the receptionist, buzzes back to let me know that my eleven o’clock has arrived. I knew she would come. I knew she couldn’t resist me.
I knew, as Samantha, she would be putty in my hands. Her being Laura, too, doesn’t change that. It only adds an unexpected twist. She’s closer to my…level. A better match, truth be told. The fact that she’s here assures me of that. It both excites me and gives me cause for concern.
Since Alyssa, I’ve only come across a few people as broken as I am, and most of those I’ve encountered in a clinical setting. Socially, I tend to keep that type at arm’s length. And for good reason. An alcoholic should avoid bars at all costs. So I do.
Until now.
I’m still standing at the window, looking out over the dreary Portland skyline, when a soft knock sounds at the door. I don’t turn until I hear the door click twice—once to open and once to close behind Paris as she leaves.
When I turn to look at Samantha, my response is immediate. It is immediate, it is visceral and it is undeniable. It leaves me with no doubts as to why I’m taking such an enormous risk. My body demands it. The animal inside me demands it.
The monster. She sets his blood on fire.
“You came back,” I state simply as we stand, a room apart, staring at one another.
“Yes,” she responds, equally simply, not moving a single muscle.
She’s dressed as Laura Drake, complete with her sassy black wig and straight-laced glasses. Knowing that she, too, hides dark and sexy things makes me want to rip off her conservative suit and bare her to me, body and soul. And I know I won’t rest until I do exactly that.
The process has already begun. Samantha is losing her grip on Laura Drake in my presence. I can see that in the muted scarf tied around her neck. As part of my work, I’ve researched Laura Drake extensively. I’ve listened to her, watched her, looked up every picture posted of her on social media. Never, not once, has she worn anything with color. She’s always dressed in solid black from head to toe. The style may vary, but never the color.