He dropped his gaze, his eyes flitting about his desk as a look of sheer panic befell him. My confidence sky high, I pressed further. “But, you see, in this recording you quite clearly abuse your position. Several times over in fact. It will definitely see you struck off, completely ruined, for sure, and there will undoubtedly be some form of legal suit. So, you see, the choice is yours, give me what I want or this will be circulated to all and sundry.”
He pushed himself back in his chair, forcing himself to appear untroubled I surmised, and his eyes returned to mine. I knew he was about to call my bluff even before he spoke, he had to try and I expected no less. “Do you take me as some kind of fool, Abi? Why would I believe that you have such a recording?”
I took the iPod out of my pocket along with a portable speaker and watched his face turn from forced calm to dawning horror to outright panic as the recording played out. It started right in the middle where the distinctive sound of his wanking interlaced with the words coming out of his mouth. It was perfect.
“And this isn’t my only copy,” I assured him. “Don’t be fool enough to think I’d risk bringing the only one I had.”
He studied me, long and hard, the tension in the air palpable as the gravity of the situation really started to hit home for him. The only sound in the room was the clock ticking away, an incessant reminder that I didn’t have time to hang about but I didn’t dare press him further. Ultimately, we both knew he had no choice.
The shrill sound of the phone ringing suddenly pierced the air and we both started.
“Christ, I told her we weren’t to be disturbed!” he exclaimed, ramming the intercom button. “What is it?”
“Apologies, Dr Tate, but I have Mr. Sawyer on the line” — the doctor’s eyes shot to mine — “he says it’s urgent.”
Shit!Why was my stepfather ringing? Had he already discovered I was AWOL? I nodded at the doctor to take the call. “Don’t you say a word out of line.”
The stress in his gaze was enough to assure me that I had him by the balls; he wasn’t going to say anything, not just yet anyway.
“Very well, put him through, Cara.”
He snatched up the receiver and thrust his free hand through his hair, his frenzied gaze fixed on the iPod in my hand.
“Edward,” he said in brusque greeting, and then he turned away, clearly unable to face the evidence of his perverted act while speaking to my stepfather. He was quiet for a while, listening to whatever Dad was telling him and then he finally spoke. “No, she should be out for at least another two hours with the dose she had” — he flicked his eyes at me briefly — “where are you? No, I wouldn’t worry, I’m sure she will be out of it when you return. Not a problem. Goodbye.”
Slowly he hung up the receiver, his mind elsewhere, probably pondering a way out of the mess he had found himself in.
“Where is he?” I asked, forcing his attention back to the present.
“He didn’t say, just that he had some business to take care of and that he was on his way home, he’d had to leave you unattended and was concerned that you’d make a break for it.”
I smiled scornfully. “Concerned, was he? How very noble.”
“He is your stepfather, Abi.”
“I’m not here for a session, Dr Tate, I want those documents and I want them now.” I raised the iPod in my hand, an attempt to spur him into action.
“Okay, okay,” he said, raising his hands to me in an “I’m on it” gesture. His attention turned to the computer screen and busily he typed away, his eyes permanently fixed to the monitor as he purposefully avoided my gaze. Not that I cared. I just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.
Before I knew it, the printer fired up and several pages spurted out. He snatched them up, scribbled on one and tossed them across the desk at me.
“Your mental health...” he said, by way of explanation before pressing the intercom for his receptionist. “Cara, can you get me the file on Miss Emma Jones?”
“Yes, Dr Tate.”
“Quickly, please.”
Mere minutes passed and his receptionist swept into the room, file in hand. She eyed me suspiciously, taking in my standing form and the Doctor’s harried state. She was astute enough to know that something was amiss but too professional to question either of us as she took her leave.
Pulling out the top sheet containing Emma’s personal details, he tossed it at me. “Write down what you require and leave.”
Part of me wanted to insist on the whole file, curiosity about the woman I was crazy about making me thirsty to know everything, but I didn’t push my luck. I jotted down her address and number, picked up the official document he had drawn up and walked to the door.
“For what it’s worth, Abi, your stepfather does care about you in his own way.”
I laughed derisively.
“Just as you cared for me, Dr Tate,” I flung over my shoulder, pulling open the door and walking out.
