by Helen Vera
“Yeah, I’m sure you came.” He quips. “Man, you really are fucked up in the head.”
I smack him on the shoulder, and in an effort to distract him, I grab the remote and turn on my sixty-inch flat screen television. Last time, we played Outlast on my PlayStation. It’s a twisted horror game where you have to hide in a freaky insane asylum. “Do you have time to play a new round of Outlast?”
“Maybe next time.” He replies. “Things are pretty hectic at the club these days. Our new resident DJ wants a hologram machine and a bunch of other weird shit. I’m bending over backward for the guy and our contract isn’t officially signed yet.”
“Maybe you should see a therapist about this bending over backward thing.” I jokingly suggest.
“Jax, you do realize that your doctor can get fired for this, right?”
“Relax. No one else knows about our little tryst. Besides, it’s different this time.”
“What do you mean by different? Is she a succubus in disguise? Because you have this weird look on your face right now.”
“You ask way too many questions,” I reply.
A familiar face appears on the TV screen. I crank up the volume and listen to the news anchor as she talks about Andrew Caldwell. His death is officially ruled a murder. My thoughts drift to Vivian. The publicity surrounding her husband’s murder must be a pain in the ass. I wonder if she’s in her office right now, listening to the news.
“I should go.” Felix gets up and pats me on the back. “One piece of advice though, getting involved with your shrink is a very bad idea. So I suggest you close Pandora’s box before somebody gets hurt.”
“Who the fuck is Pandora?”
“Google it,” He says before leaving my office and shutting the door.
I shake my head in amusement and sit down on the couch. Vivian’s probably a fan of red wine and dark chocolate. She seems like the type to enjoy such an Italian spread. I grab another slice of prosciutto and decide to call a meeting to teach my junior lawyers a lesson on how to behave.
I need to take my mind off Vivian or I’ll be unable to get any work done today.
“Alison!”
I open my office door and find her shaking in her winter boots. She almost drops the coffee mug from her hands. “Yes, Mr. Knight. Sorry, I was just grabbing some coffee.”
“Forget your coffee. I want you to get me a fake handgun.”
“Sorry, what?” Her mouth falls open like a fucking blowfish.
“You heard me, a fake handgun. Make sure it looks real enough. Capiche?”
“Yes sir.” She quickly puts her mug on her desk, grabs her purse and disappears down the corridor. I eye her steaming mug of fresh coffee and decide to steal it. By the time she comes back, it’ll be too cold to drink anyway.
“I fucking love my job.”
10
VIVIAN
How do you lead a normal life after your husband and his murder become the talk of the town? This is the question that plagues my mind at the moment.
My little baby was invited to attend the birthday of one of her daycare friends, so here we are, hanging out in the backyard of a lovely Victorian house in Brooklyn. The garden’s decorated with an army of unicorns and fairies. Lucy’s wearing a pink tutu skirt under a glittery white shirt with stars on it. She looks adorable.
I take a sip from my pink lemonade and watch her play with a boy her age. She’s incredibly sweet-natured, so kids love sharing their toys with her. Lucy walks over to the birthday clown and he hands them each a rainbow-colored balloon. The blond boy suddenly loses his balance and falls. Lucy quickly lets go of the balloon and tries to help him the best she can. I beam with pride at how well she behaves. The boy’s mother rushes over and picks him up. She ruffles Lucy’s hair and gives her a unicorn helium balloon as a reward.
“Mommy!” She skips over to me smiling from ear to ear.
A bunch of other parents turn to stare at us. I try to ignore the looks of sympathy and suspicion they give me. I’m already wearing black, so what more do they want? I’m so not going to hide like a recluse in my apartment. I want to raise my daughter the right way. This means taking her to swimming and ballet lessons and encouraging her to socialize and bond with other kids. I want her to have a normal, happy childhood.
“Vivian!” Alice, the birthday girl’s mother invites me to join her friends. They look like typical New York housewives with perfectly blow-dried hair and designer shoes. I stand there, self-conscious in my ankle boots and bare face. Today’s unusually warm for November, so they are all dressed in identical cardigans.
Alice introduces me, but I can tell that they already know who I am. They offer me their condolences and their Upper East Side cocktail of fake concern. They probably think I have a hand in Andrew’s murder. He was the sole heir to his father’s fortune after all.
The ladies discuss their favorite kid-friendly restaurants around New York. I try to join the conversation, but my mind is elsewhere. Jax Knight and his body are all I can think about right now. My emotions are layered like a three-tier cake. Shame forms the base of this cake, with lust in the middle and confusion at the very top. I still Can’t believe that I slept with one of my patients. It feels like some other carefree version of me took over and did that.
“Are you okay? You look a bit flushed.” Alice asks in concern. I smile politely and tell her I’m fine.
A few minutes later, we join everyone at the fancy dessert corner so Hannah can blow out her candles. I carry Lucy in my arms so she can sing happy birthday in full sight of the unicorn shaped cake. Everyone claps and we each receive a slice of vanilla goodness. I feed Lucy her cake and think about what to do with Jax. I have to figure out a way to send him to another probation psychiatrist as soon as possible. My job and my reputation are both at stake here.
I wish I’d met him under different circumstances. Maybe at a piano bar or in a French cafe near Central Park. Now I have to deal with this mess on my own. I sigh and wipe Lucy’s mouth with a napkin. Bless her heart, she’s still too young to understand loss and grief. She barely asks about Andrew anymore. I kiss her forehead and smile down at her angelic face. She looks exactly like me when I was her age. It’s uncanny.
After dessert comes the puppet show. The kids gather around a miniature stage and clap their hands excitedly. Lucy joins them while I grab another slice of unicorn cake. Stress eating is my thing. I’ve been doing it for days now. The women sitting across from me stare with no shame.
I simply ignore them and wallow in my misery. Jax’s like a sexual comet. He gave me a mind blowing orgasm and then turned my life upside down. He made me feel desired for the very first time in ages. Maybe that’s why I gave in to him so quickly.
I fish out my phone from my bag and resist the urge to call my best friend. I need to confide in her so bad. The best thing about Sue is that she’s not judgmental, unlike the rest of New York. I already feel judged while I sit here and stuff my mouth with cake. Life in the Upper East Side is exactly the way Gossip Girl described it. That TV show was my guilty pleasure before they canceled it.
Alice appears out of thin air to sit down next to me. “Hey. Enjoying the cake?”
“Yep.” I smile at her. “Great party. Hannah is a wonderful kid. Lucy loves her.”
“Hannah adores Lucy too.” She smiles. “So, how are you holding up?”
Here we go again.
My fingers tighten around the silver fork. I hate this question. “Well, ever since the news came out about Andrew, reporters have been calling me nonstop, asking for interviews. I’ve also been harassed more than once by an army of paparazzi. This is my life in a nutshell.”
“Yes. Everyone’s been talking about Andrew. I wish they’d mind their own business for once.”
Surprised, I turn to look at Alice’s face. She reminds me of Grace Kelley, only with longer hair. “You are officially the first person to tell me that instead of asking more nosy questions.”
“Goo
d to know.” She chuckles, then reaches out to pat my hand. “I was born and raised far from this glamorous New York scene, so I’m not like the others. I’m just putting it out there in case you need a friend.” She says in a soft voice.
“Thank you.”
Alice takes me to a secluded area in her garden where I can take a break from the birthday crowd. She tells me not to worry about Lucy, and that she’ll watch over her until the puppet show ends. I thank her from the bottom of my heart and watch her leave. The sun paints the sky a beautiful shade of red as I sit on the lonely swing and enjoy my solitude.
My mind slowly unleashes its memories of Jax and our forbidden encounter. I close my eyes and imagine him pushing me up against a tree, his bare chest gleams with sweat as he pounds into me, his eyes roam hungrily all over my body. His biceps flex and his six-pack muscles contract with every thrust. I imagine us on the floor, his hand pins my wrists together to stop me from moving. His feral expression is scary yet so damn hot at the same time.
I rub my thighs together, craving his strong hands on me.
No. Behave. I remind myself. You’re not a horny teenager anymore.
I open my eyes and rest my head against the chains. I’m an embarrassment to all doctors. I really am. I still have no idea what came over me that day. Was it the weather? Did Constance put some sort of voodoo spell on me?
I need to nip this in the bud before it snowballs out of control.
The swing brings back many childhood memories. I indulge in a little child’s play and swing my butt off. It’s nice to feel carefree for a few minutes and pretend to touch the clouds. I close my eyes and feel the wind against my hair. Jax invades my mind once again. This time, he approaches me while I sit on the swing and pries my thighs open. He’s already hard for me, so he grabs the edges of the swing and enters me in one smooth thrust.
“Mommy!”
Lucy’s voice startles the hell out of me. I gasp, lose my balance and fall back onto the grass. She giggles uncontrollably while I lay there, flushed and embarrassed thanks to my dirty imagination.
Jax Knight, what have you done to me?
11
JAX
I have a new fondness for Wednesdays.
I whistle as I exit the elevator. My session with Vivian’s two minutes away. She drove me fucking crazy all week. Last time, I scared the receptionist into giving me her private number, and then I sent her a bunch of texts. The tease ignored them all.
No woman has ever ignored my texts before. This is unchartered territory for me. To be honest, my ego’s not used to this treatment. It both pisses me off and turns me on. I stroll into the reception area and my nose instantly detects the familiar scent of coconut. I need to buy this fucking office some class. This IKEA furniture belongs in the garbage and so does those cheap looking paintings.
Nerdy receptionist, also known as Elliot, greets me with his trademark terrified smile. I nod in his direction and walk the short distance to Vivian’s office. I find her sitting in her usual armchair. Her chocolate eyes meet mine and she instantly looks away. My little perfect doll.
“Mr. Knight. Please have a seat.”
I give her an incredulous look and close the door behind me. “What kind of greeting is that, Doctor doll?”
“Excuse me? Doctor what?!” She glances briefly in my direction and tucks a strand of hair behind her right ear. She looks uncomfortable yet incredibly sexy in a black leather skirt and a pair of knee-high boots. God. I want to bend her over my knee and spank her. “I’m just trying to keep things professional between us.”
“Fuck professional.” I hiss. “There’s no rewind button for you to press, Vivian.”
She sighs and leans back against her chair. “Then I can’t be your therapist anymore. Starting next week, you’ll be assigned to a new doctor.”
“Fine. Whatever.” I shrug. “At least now I can fuck you without you freaking out once we’re done.”
She blushes and licks her full kissable lips. “You are unbelievable.”
“I warned you, I’m too much to handle.” I sit down across from her on the couch and lean forward with my elbows on my knees. “So did you read those messages I sent you?”
She refuses to reply, but I can tell from her expression that she did read them. “Come on, Doc. There’s no need for you to be shy.”
“Stop looking at me like that.” She pouts and it’s fucking adorable.
“Stop telling me what to do.” I frown. “You seem to be under the impression that you’re the one in control here. Guess what? You’re not.”
“Fuck you.” She says, but it comes out more like a tender caress than an insult.
“Say it like you mean it, babe.”
She clears her throat and scribbles angrily on her notebook. “You know what? I’m going to assign you to Doctor Schmidt. He’s a foul-mouthed therapist with an insanely dull personality. You’ll love spending those 120 hours with him.”
“I love insanely dull people.”
Her cheeks are redder than a strawberry. She tugs on her long braid in obvious frustration and then slams a piece of paper on the coffee table. “Here! You can take this to your probation officer or judge or whatever.” She huffs.
“You seem a little tense.” I tease her. “Tense ladies need their weekly dose of vitamin C.”
It takes her a few seconds to realize that I was referring to my cock. “Jax...”
“This is what you get for kicking me out of your office last time.”
“Poor you. Using your anger and teasing to rile people up. I see right through you, Knight.”
Her words catch me by surprise. I get up, anger and arousal rushing through my blood like cocaine. “So the kitten has claws.” I slowly approach her chair. She swallows nervously, and I can tell that she thinks I’m dangerous. She’s right about that.
“Why do you pretend to be so docile in public? Show the world your true colors.” licking my lips, I eye her up and down.
“The world is busy judging me and my every move.”
I stand in front of her chair and give her a chance to drink me in. She licks her lips and tries not to stare at my physique. She fails miserably. I wore a short sleeved button up shirt today just so she can openly check out my tattoos. “Tell me, did you fantasize about me fucking you at all this week?”
“No. Don’t flatter yourself.” She shakes her head profusely. Her red cheeks give her away.
“Liar,” I smirk and bend forward and rest my hands on either side of her forest green armchair. She smells like spring roses with a hint of citrus and it’s driving me insane. “You’ve probably imagined me fucking you in your bed, your fingernails digging into my shoulders. I can paint you an incredibly graphic picture if you like.” I whisper in her ear. She gasps and turns her head to the side.
My fingers glide over her arm. Her breath hitches at my touch. “Jax..” My name sounds fucking sexy coming from her lips. I lean in to kiss her but she gives me her cheek instead.
“Yes Babe...”
A loud knock on the door startles us both. I quickly retreat to the couch and sit down. Vivian fans her flushed face and adjusts her skirt. She looks flustered as fuck.
The door swings open to reveal an older woman with curly hair and a fresh tan. She looks surprised to find me sitting there and does nothing to hide it. Instead, she ogles me like a thirsty cougar for a few seconds before turning her attention to my blushing doll.
“Sorry for the interruption.” She apologizes. “I was wondering if you have more of that magical chamomile tea.”
Vivian nods and points a finger towards her desk. “The thermos is right over there.”
“Great. Thanks.” The woman glances at me one last time before grabbing the red thermos.
When she leaves, I quickly get up and lock the door. “Who the fuck was that?”
“My co-worker.” She replies and hugs the notebook to her chest.
“So chamomile tea, huh?”
“Yea
h. It helps me relax.”
“Tea is for old people. You’re still young and hot.” I tease her.
“Drinking tea has nothing to do with age, Mr. Know-it-all.”
I smirk and lean against the arm of the couch. “So, where were we?”
She clears her throat and glances at her silver wrist watch. I enjoy watching her squirm. “We need to make this look legit, and right now, the notes I have on you are barely enough to fit on one page.”
“Fine, I’ll tell you whatever you want, but on one condition.”
Vivian gives me a suspicious look in return. “What is it?”
“I get to touch you wherever I want.”