Shaking my head, I replied, “I’m afraid you’re confused. This is achildren’sspeech practice. I don’t treat adults.”
The man cocked his brows at me. “My client is a very important man. We can make itveryworth your time to see him.”
“It’s not about the money. It’s about your client receiving the proper treatment,” I countered.
When his jaw clenched, I shrank back. Trying to diffuse the situation, I said, “I would be happy to recommend another speech-language pathologist who would be better equipped to see him.”
“No, that won’t do. He’s made it very clear.” His wolf eyes narrowed menacingly. “Only you.”
Normally a surge of pride would’ve filled me with being so professionally desired. But the whole situation was too strange and too frightening. His tone and demeanor continued to send fear prickling down my spine.
“I am flattered, but I can assure you there are more qualified therapists.”
Shaking his head, the man countered, “He has done his due diligence researching therapists. He was very impressed withsome of the medical journals he read about your success with CBT.”
I sucked in a breath of surprise. “He actually read my research about Cognitive Behavioral Therapy?”
“Yes, he did.” He cocked his brows at me. “He was very impressed with your methods and your results.”
“He is?”
Ivan nodded. “That’s why he had me seek you out.”
After smoothing an errant strand of hair back into my bun, I said, “While that’s very flattering, I would remind you once again that the research was on children.”
Ivan nodded. “He was never truly given the opportunity in his childhood to correct his speech.” For the first time, Ivan’s harsh features softened slightly. “He comes from a world of perfection where any impediment is seen as a shameful defect.”
“While he has my sympathies for what he’s endured, I simply cannot take him as a patient.”
My breath hitched at the narrowing of his wolf eyes. “My client is not used to hearing no for an answer.”
Acting braver than I felt, I jerked my chin up. “And I’m not used to my professional decisions being questioned.” On shaky legs, I half-walked, half-lumbered across my office.
After throwing open the door, I said, “I will thank you to remove yourself from my office before I call security.”
For a moment, surprise washed over Ivan’s face. But then it quickly vanished. With a twisted smile, he stalked over to me. “I could take you to my car before they’d make it up from the first floor where they’re doing their initial rounds.”
As his sinister words echoed in my ears, my stomach clenched in dread as I fought to breathe. For a moment, I could only stare at him–the frozen prey in the snare of the predator.
“Please,” I choked out.
As Ivan loomed over me, I cowered back against the door. Even though my chest rose and fell in harsh pants, I began rambling out of fear. “Please don’t hurt me. My father has dementia, and I have a brother who has Down Syndrome. Even though he lives in a group home, he still needs me since–”
The man’s gloved finger came to press against my lips to silence me. Once I was silent, he tenderly cupped my cheek. To my surprise, pity swirled in his usually cruel eyes. “Don’t worry,Kroshka. He would have my ass if I hurt one hair on that beautiful head of yours.”
And with those final words, he walked out of my office. As I started to hyperventilate, I pulled from my own teaching. “I see…my…desk. I…see…the…picture of Sammy and Silas.”
As the man’s words continued echoing through my head, I strode over to my desk. Skipping ahead, I said, “I hear my fish. I hear my breathing. I hear…” I pinched my eyes shut. “His voice.”
With a shudder, I collapsed into my chair. Bending over, I brought my head between my legs. I realized it left me in a vulnerable state if the man were to return.
He would have my ass if I hurt a hair on your beautiful head.
I jumped out of my skin when my phone went off on the desk beside me. At the sight of my best friend’s name flashing across the screen, a flicker of relief washed over me.
“H-Hello?” I answered.
A pause came over the line before the deep timbre of Hudson’s echoed on the line. “Sarah?”
