“Did he lean his head down and give you those big disappointed daddy eyes over the frame of his glasses?” she continues.
“I’m begging you…”
“You’d love to beg him wouldn’t you? I bet if Dr. Angel told you to get on your knees right in the middle of his office, you’d do it, like the good little girl you are. Dirty bitch.”
“Oh my god, you’re insane.” I gasp, wiping a tear from my eye as we dissolve into giggles.
I don’t deny it though. Because honestly, if Alfie used that low voice of his and told me to drop my panties and bend over his desk, you can bet your ass I’m gonna do it. No questions. No hesitation.
Take.
Them.
Off.
In a fantasy world of course. In real life, how could I? He’s my boss and one, would never, and two, I would never… maybe? I actually can’t say for sure because maybe I’d be so stunned I’d be in a complete trance. The Dr. Adams trance whereby I do anything and everything he asks of me.
Okay, enough. It’s wildly inappropriate, and besides, real men always ruin the fantasy. Case in point, today, I found out that Alfie has been following patients around and not me. I mean, seriously, if he could channel those stalker tendencies into a dark romance vibe, this man would be the full package. But no, he’s got to follow a dangerous patient around and prevent crime like a genuine news-appropriate hero. How incredibly ill-timed given that I need him to be my reference in the next three months when I graduate and start applying for actual psychologist jobs.
Shit.
Today was such a close call, and thank god I was there otherwise how would he have explained himself? Vincent would have pummeled him into the concrete until that beautiful face had a permanent scowl.
I’m going to have to stop him from losing his entire career and save my job reference in the process. Because Alfie has a dark side that is too tempting to ignore. I know his schedule, I know he’s a workaholic that barely socializes. Making sure he’s behaving himself is going to be a piece of cake. I take a deep breath and acknowledge, at least to myself, I’m going to have to stalk my boss.
Chapter Three
Alfie
The rest of the week was awful. Mia has become a robot for all intents and purposes. Gone is the early morning banter, the between-session check-ins. She’s clocking in, clocking out, and barely finishes her goodbyes before the door is swinging closed.
Dr. Adams this. Dr. Adams that. I fucking hate seeing the disappointment in her face, knowing that I put it there. And it’s not even just disappointment, it’s suspicion and she has every right to be questioning me right now. Not only did I put her in physical danger by following Vincent, I endangered her career too. If I get caught following patients for real, and Mia gets wrapped up in it, I’d never forgive myself.
So here I am, standing outside Mia’s apartment, which I found in her employee file, uncomfortable in the knowledge that some idiot had just propped open the security door to her building with a sandbag. Steeling myself with a deep breath, I knock, my eyes flitting down the peeling red paint on the door. A loose door handle seems to be all there is between me and the inside of Mia’s apartment.
The door swings open, and there stands a small Latina woman with bright pink hair. She’s blowing bubblegum the same color as her curls as she gives me a languorous look up and down before twisting her head to yell out, “Mia, babes, your favorite man is here.”
“Oh, is it Ben?” she yells out.
Ben?
Who the hell is Ben?
“Or is it Jerry? I’m hoping for both because I could certainly take on a pint of the two of them now.” I hear the pad of her feet against the floorboards as her roommate grins.
“Oh shit. Alf—Dr. Adams. What are you doing here?” she stammers.
“Are you free to talk?” I ask, straining to keep my eyes on her face and not on her bare legs. She’s wearing the shortest shorts known to man and a baggy T-shirt, which she’s tied up in a knot at the front, cinching at her waist.
She glances at an imaginary watch on her wrist and plasters an exaggerated look of confusion over her face. “Oh, is it within office hours and I didn’t realize? Is it Monday morning already?”
Her friend turns to her. “Nope, still the weekend.”
“Mia…”
“It’s Miss Sinclair, as we discussed. Now anything you have to say can be said on Monday,Dr. Adams.”
As the door slams in my face, I quickly move my foot to block it.
