Page 178 of Her Wicked Plan

“Would you let me read it?” Given how private someone's thoughts are, it's a dangerous question, but when she divulged most information to me recently, I figured it might be safe to ask.

Her brown eyes dim, hardening briefly before returning to normal. “If you want to know what I write about you and me in there, all you have to do is ask. You don’t need to read the words written on paper. I would happily tell you.”

“I think I’d rather hear it come from this beautiful mouth of yours, anyway.” I allow my eyes to fall to her parted lips. The corners tugging up slightly. God, I want to kiss her. I want to wrap my hand around the back of her neck, pull her into me, and lose myself in her taste.

“Would you like to take this to your office?” Her offer pulls me out of my daydream.

“As much as I would like to, I have a busy day ahead of me, and I can’t afford any distractions.” My tongue runs along my bottom lip. “But I will probably take you up on that offer tomorrow.”

“Pity. I’m very good at distracting, but I suppose I can be a good girl and wait.” She nestles the book to her chest. “If you change your mind or need an escape from your horrible work, I’ll be in the lobby.”

She flashes me a wink, then steers around me to continue her venture to go read.

CHAPTER 46

Veronica

Two days have passed, and I find myself spending time in the lobby again. Maybe the seat that I’m currently sitting in will be my new chair, seeing as I spend little time in the common room anymore. When I hang out there, it is because Eliza talked me into another puzzle.

The two girls who typically hang out here are from Ward A, the ward lower than where I am. They are do-gooders and never seem to get themselves in trouble.

I wonder if they are the same as scared little mice. When I come out here the next time to find one of them in my seat, will they run off and cry if I threaten them?

Staring at the open book in my lap, the letters unfocusing, then refocusing again. It sits there unread. It may look like I’m reading to anyone who enters the room or Edith, who sits behind her desk working on whatever she has scheduled for the day.

My eyes focus on the words printed over the old book's pages, but my brain doesn’t take them in. It’s too busy spinning the wheels in my mind. My finger flicks at the top corner of the page, bending the fragile paper with every movement.

It’s time.

I have to suggest the idea of Leo and I leaving this place.

I’m not sure when I was planning on doing it. It was probably when he developed strong feelings for me, but it seems that time is now. He’s made it clear how he feels about me, and I’ve made it clear to him.

The story on the pages before me is not as delightful as the one I’m painting in my head. Lord of the Flies is a story that I remember reading back in school. It was disturbing.

I explained that to Stephanie when she asked what I was reading. She had told me she read the same book a few years back but couldn’t recall what it was about. How could someone forget?

Pushing that memory out of my head, I allow my brain to conjure up the images I desperately want to see: leaving this place behind and living the life I was meant to, not being trapped behind these doors. It seems like a dream I would never have been able to reach until he entered my life.

I have him right where I need him.

A throat clears, and the rough, agitating sound drifts me out of my thoughts to find Leo standing in the doorway. I pause the finger, fidgeting with the corner of the page as I stare back at him. Black slacks, a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to show off his tattoos.

A patient sitting across from me gawks at the sight of him. When did she join me? Training my eyes on her, I observe how her gaze darts over the tattoos littering his arms.

I return my focus to Leo, who is still standing in the doorway, his eyes glued to me as if I were the only one inhabiting the lobby.

“Are you ready for our session?”

Nodding, I shut the pointless book and leave it on the couch. When I approach him, he steps to the side, holds the door open like a gentleman, and lets me lead the way to his office.

As soon as the door shuts behind us, the sound of him undoing the zipper on his pants reaches my ear. The clink of metal when he unbuckles brings goosebumps to my skin.

I stand there, still as a statue, waiting for him to do something. He doesn’t wait a second longer before striding over to me in three easy steps.

“On your knees,” he demands in a deep, assertive tone.

Smiling slightly, I shake my head in refusal, making his anger grow with each gentle breath I inhale. The corner of my mouth tugs upward, and my eyes shine with pure disobedience.