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It takes all my willpower to look away. I focus on the laptop screen, not really seeing it. I’m the first to move, but only because I need to place my hand out of sight. I curl my fingers into a ball and press my nails into my palm. I feel my skin split.
I release a strained breath. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”
His smile is back. Challenge sparks
in his eyes. “No, ma’am. I’m going to make it very, very hard.”
I arch an eyebrow. “All right. On that note, let’s tackle at least one of the questions on the questionnaire, so that we achieve something valuable during our first session. And I want you to answer it honestly.”
“I’ll give you anything you ask,” he says.
Right. I firm up my resolve and click open a new tab on his file. Years of study, schooling, training…and none of it prepared me for Carter Hensley. I have to regain control.
“To you,” I start, “what is the difference between aggression and violence?”
“Serious answer?” he asks.
I nod. “Please.”
He runs his palms over his slacks, ironing out the creases, as he considers the question. “Aggression is a response to an action, and violence is the action.”
I feel my forehead furrow as I chase my thoughts. I don’t know how to respond, or what to think. There’s a magnetic pull that tugs from the center of my chest, urging me toward him—a powerful draw that, no matter how badly I want to, I can’t ignore.
“Am I close?” he asks, a crooked smile tilting his mouth.
I clear my throat and break eye contact with him. “Yes. That was a very astute answer.”
“What do I win? Can I name my prize?”
I swivel my chair to the left and pull open a desk drawer. I rifle through my emergency stash and select my favorite, then toss him the candy bar. I smile smugly.
He holds it up. “This wasn’t the candy I had in mind.” Before I can respond, he stands and leans over the desk, his face too close to mine. “I have time, though. I’ll get what I want in the end.”
I’m not thinking clearly; I’ve lost all rational thought. That has to be the reason why I inch closer to him and say: “What if I get what I want first?”
His gaze lowers, long black lashes brush his cheeks, as his eyes settle on my lips, then rove slowly over my features to meet my gaze. “Then we’ll both be very satisfied.”
On impulse, I lick my lips—then immediately draw back. “I need to ask you about the incident last year.”
That pale-blue gaze rakes over my features ravenously. “I told you, I’ll give you anything you ask for, hot girl.”
He’s staring at me like a predator stares down its prey. One slight move from me could trigger the wrong course of action. I breathe evenly, every inhalation a burden for my constricted chest.
“I’m officially advising you to refer to me as Ms. Montgomery, Mr. Hensley.”
“Carter,” he says, stressing his point. He drags a thumb across his bottom lip as he moves back toward his seat. He tosses the candy bar on the desk. “Besides, I’m sure you read the report. What else is there to know?”
I inhale a shaky breath, my skin blazing. “Your side,” I say, finding my bearings. “There’s always two sides to a story. I want your version.”
He arches one dark eyebrow. “Version, or truth? They’re two different things.”
A cautious smile slips over my lips. “I happen to agree. So, are you going to tell me your truth?”
He chuckles. “You’re so clever.” He slaps the armchair, making a spectacle before he says, “Do you ever feel numb?”
I roll my shoulders to loosen the stiffness coiling my body, then lift my chin. “How do you mean?”
He cocks his head, dimples straining against his tense jawline. “Like there’s a layer covering you that, no matter what you do, you can’t feel anything fully. Then it becomes frustrating, that dullness, as if every interaction and every action you’re fighting some gauzy web that mutes the world.”
