I laugh cruelly, his words not making any sense.
“Tell him to leave. I don’t want him here. I don’t want any of you guys around.”
“No. I’m sorry if it upsets you, but the reality of the situation is that my enemies are now aware of who you are to me. They knew enoughabout you to use it against me. That makes you a target. I’ll respect your need for space from me, but not at the detriment of your own safety. Until further notice, you will be followed by a guard everywhere you go. It’s for your own protection, Menace.”
“You’re the one who made me a target in the first place! Did you ever think that if you’d just leave me alone, I wouldn’t be in any more danger?” I ask hysterically.
“No. Not willing to risk it. Now, I’m afraid I’m in the middle of an important appointment, but feel free to call me back later. I miss hearing your voice.”
And with that confusing statement, he drops the call, leaving me stuck in place, listening to the three hang-up beeps that stretch into the quiet street beyond my porch.
I start back towards the door, but something catches my eye, a streak of purple I hadn’t noticed before. I bend down beside the welcome mat and reach for the small, peculiar bouquet.
It’s only when I bring it closer and catch the smell that I realize what it is. A small bunch of lavender is tied together with a woven rope, a little card tucked beneath.
I’m sorry.
-M
Mikhail
“Iapologize for the interruption,” I inform the wrinkled woman sitting studiously in the chair across from mine as I tuck my cell back into my pocket. “We can proceed.”
The beautiful tone of Cassandra’s voice still plays in my head, causing some of my tension to melt back into the chair. Furious as she might have sounded, her voice provides me with a powerful reminder of why I’m sitting here in this scratchy, stiff chair being stared at like a scientific anomaly.
The gawking woman in question clears her throat once before addressing me again.
“That’s perfectly fine. I was just saying that I’ve signed the various NDAs you’ve sent to my office and will comply with your terms.” She tilts her head at a discomforting angle, staring up at me with a strange, meaningful expression. It’s putting me on edge. “So, what would you like to work on together?”
Now it’s my turn to clear my throat, stalling as I contemplate how to word my request. I’m used to giving orders and not being questioned,but this woman looks at me like she’s brimming with hundreds of intrusive questions and unwilling to take any of my orders.
“The woman I care about told me that I needed professional help. I mean to win her back,” I settle on, obliterating any trace of emotionality from the cool evenness of my tone.
“I see,” the woman says after a short pause, now tilting her head to the opposite side. Jesus, what is she, a fucking praying mantis? “And is she the only reason you want to improve?”
“Yes,” I say easily.
She hums to herself. “Yeah, I’m not sure that’s going to work out too well, Mikhail.” Her eyebrows shoot up in an obnoxious, condescending manner that causes me to simmer with rage.
This is why I threaten people.
Fine, I’ll just have to find another therapist who’s willing to sign my NDAs. It won’t be too hard. I’m sure as shit not going to just sit here, being judged by this old hag who thinks she’s better than me because she’s bought herself a Master’s Degree?—
“You look angry, Mikhail. Does what I said upset you?” She interrupts my spiral of thoughts with her unsettling, calm voice. “You can’t just learn how to fake emotional maturity if you want this girl back.”
At the mention of Cassandra, my pent-up frustration dissipates. The only thing that remains is the sting of regret at how badly I’ve fucked everything up. I’m going to have to actually put in the effort if I deserve any chance of getting close to her again. I’d do anything to make her look at me again the way she did before.
Her instructions were quite clear when she shouted into my face that I neededprofessional help.Okay, baby. I can follow instructions just fine, see?
“Fine.” I nod slowly, keeping my eyes to the floor in submission to the old bat. I sure as fuck hope none of my men ever find out how much power this woman has over me already.
“That’s what I like to hear, Mikhail.” She cracks me a small smile. “It’s not an inherently bad thing to have motivation to grow, but youwon’t be able to fake any of the work we’re going to do together. Not if you want to actually get something out of this. Understood?”
“Understood.”
The woman suddenly moves, reaching her arm into a nearby desk and pulling out a small book and a pen. She scribbles something on the front of the book before offering it for me to take.
Across the cover, in large, legible handwriting, the words “Mikhail’s Feelings Journal” are sprawled out in a clean line.Fuck me.I look up at the therapist, who seems to be watching me carefully for any sign of reaction. Unwilling to fail this first idiotic test, I roll my eyes and crack the book open, listening quietly as she explains how to interact with each of the assigned prompts.
