“What else?”
“My dearest Deduskha just asked me to overthrow you. Allegiance is growing within the men for me to take my rightful place.”
“Fuck,” he muttered, his lips moving against my hand.
Once again, I whispered in his ear, “D-Da.”
“And what did you say?”
“I agreed.” At Dima’s shudder of revulsion, I shook my head. “I said what he wanted t-to hear. But t-the t-truth is I want to fuck t-them over.”
He blinked at me in confusion. “How?”
Overwhelmed by emotions, I gritted out, “We let t-them t-think I’m t-taking your place. But t-then we rule t-together.”
A myriad of emotions flickered in Dima’s eyes. “I’m in.”
CHAPTER FIVE: SARAH
Giving a reassuring smile, I nodded at Halley, an eight-year-old client working through an exposure experiment. She had just raised her hand for me to call on her to answer a question, just like she would a teacher in class. Then she would try to control her prolongation stuttering in her response.
We spent most of our session working up to the experiment. Halley had such a fear of her classmates' judgment that even practicing with me had her trembling.
“Yes, Halley,” I prompted.
With her pulse fluttering in her neck, she continued hesitating. Finally, she shook her head. “I…can’t.”
Reaching over, I patted her hand. “It’s okay. I know you can do this.” At her continued apprehension, I said, “We’ll practice again at our next session. Okay?”
Since she was teary, I walked her out to her mother in the waiting room. We were already fifteen minutes over from starting late after they’d rushed in at the last minute. As I started back to my office, an unusual quiet echoed around me since my fellow doctors had early afternoon appointments.
When I walked into my office, I recoiled at the sight of a man in a tailored black suit standing to the side of my desk. At my gasp, the man whirled around and pinned me with the clearest pair of blue eyes I’d ever seen. Even though they weren’t the color, they reminded me of a wolf’s.
Piercing and predatory.
They didn’t fit in with his classically handsome face–one under normal circumstances I would’ve been very attracted to.
A moment of tense silence stretched between us. As my hand fluttered to my throat, I asked, “I, uh…I’m sorry. Do we have an appointment?”
“No. We don’t.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
Instead of responding, the man strode over to me. My heart threatened to beat out of my chest. He towered over me, which wasn’t easy since I was 5’9. Multicolored ink peeked out from the neck of his white dress shirt that strained over his bulging chest and arms.
After he extended his hand, I merely stared at it. When he cleared his throat, I gaze trailed his muscular body up to his face. With a nod, he said, “Ivan Drago.”
Furrowing my brows, I tried remembering where I’d heard that name before. “Sarah Whitfield,” I replied before gingerlyshaking his hand. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Drago?”
“I need your expertise for a client of mine.”
Furrowing my brows, I asked, “Client?”
The man ignored my question. “We’ve heard that your practice specializes in new therapy methods to reverse stuttering.”
For a moment, I couldn’t find my voice. Finally, I replied, “Yes, we do.”
“My client suffers from Developmental Stuttering. None of the treatments of his childhood helped.”
