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Chapter5
Amelia
Closing the door to my office, I march over to my desk and place my palms on the surface, leaning forward as I catch my breath. “Holy shit.”
As I stare at my reflection in the mirror on the wall, my heart threatens to burst from my ribcage. I’m so nervous that I think I might pass out, and my armpits are so sweaty I could give Mary Katherine Gallagher a run for her money.
But keeping my cool in front of Ethan just ranked in one of my top five moments of my life, hands down. The look on his face was priceless as I put him in his place and offered him a little therapy of his own.
The truth of the matter is, we all have shit in our pasts that we don’t deal with, try to sweep under the rug, or perhaps just don’t realize what an impact it had on us until later in our lives. But I can tell that Ethan’s problem with me has far more to do with him. It’s not just me being a threat to his business—and part of me hates that I want to know what it is.
Alas, I know he’ll never take me up on my offer for a discounted session, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he has a lot of balls trying to cross over into my territory and stake a claim. So now I’ve turned the tables on him, and there’s one person I want to tell about my triumphs more than anything.
“Talk to me, Amelia Be Delia.” Penelope answers the phone sounding busy but cheery nonetheless.
“I dropped off the brochures this morning, and they got me just the reaction I was looking for.”
Penelope cackles through the line. “Excellent. Did you show him your BDE?”
“I really hate that phrase, Pen. I don’t have a dick.”
“Big Dick Energy doesn’t just apply to men, Amelia. Would you rather me say Big Vagina Energy?”
I contemplate her words in silence. “I see your point.”
“Thank you. So I take it our little enemy wasn’t pleased about the delivery?”
Smiling, I finally relax a bit and slink back into my chair. Glancing at the clock, I note that I have ten minutes until my client arrives. “Hardly. I dropped them off at his office this morning before he arrived, which he was late today by the way. Not sure how he’s managing a business by starting work at ten a few days a week, but that doesn’t matter.”
“Focus, Amelia.”
“Right. So I told his secretary that we had an agreement to cross-promote, and I would love for the pamphlets to be used in the welcome paperwork for their clients.”
Penelope’s laughter has me grinning even harder. “I love it.”
“Needless to say, I imagine his secretary did as she was told, but he discovered it just a few moments ago.”
“Is he fuming?”
I stand up and move to my door, peering around the curtains to see if he’s still outside. “He was when he came over and gave me a piece of his mind a few moments ago. It seems he’s gone back into his office for now, but the best part was when I wrote a 20 percent off voucher on the pamphlet he had in his hand. The look on his face was priceless, Pen.”
“Good work, soldier. Now, let me know if you need me to drop the atomic bomb. You know he won’t know what hit him if we do that.”
Yesterday at brunch, as I was filling the girls in on the developments with Ethan, everyone started brainstorming ways to get under his skin and put him in his place after his business card stunt. Penelope’s final move is pretty monumental, but I don’t want to have to use it unless absolutely necessary.
“I’ll keep you posted.”
“Excellent. In the meantime, try not to sleep with him, okay?”
I nearly choke on my tongue. “Penelope, that is not going to happen.”
She sighs knowingly, like this conversation is not stimulating enough for her, and she’s getting bored. “Oh, Amelia. Do you not remember what we just went through with Charlotte?”
My confidence starts to retreat. “What do you mean?”
“All the sexual tension boiling over between Charlotte and Damien was bound to end with them fucking, and look what happened. I hate to break it to you, honey…but you’re in a very similar predicament.”
“No…I’m not…”
She cackles again. “I imagine it must be hard for you to hear this, given your profession and all, but Amelia? You’re in denial, honey. You want the man’s dick.”
“Penelope!” I scoff, marching back to my desk and noting that I only have three minutes now before I absolutely have to get off the phone. “Look, I know I admitted that the man is hot, and there is no denying that. But after the way we’ve interacted with each other? I could never…”
“Never say never, girl.”
“Ugh. Whose side are you on?” My resolve is wavering the longer this conversation goes on.
I’m not naive. I know I’m attracted to the man. And yes, perhaps I’ve fantasized about him a handful of times since we met, but it’s harmless. There is no way in hell I would actually act on it.
“Yours, girl. And you should know by now that I always root for my friends partaking in some toe-curling, good ol’ nasty fucking. Every woman needs to be fucked within an inch of her life once in a while, and sex with the enemy? That’s the best kind, my dear.”
I see my cheeks blush right before my eyes as I look up in the mirror, staring back at the woman I barely recognize at this moment.
I’m usually so cool, calm, and collected. But Ethan makes me irrational, crazy, and impulsive. Never in a million years would I say things to a man as I have to him, even if he crossed me. I have no problem defending myself when the situation warrants it, but Ethan makes my talons come out, and my words have been far sharper than I normally would allow them to be. There’s more to this attraction I feel toward him, and that’s forcing me to show my not-so-nice sides.
“I have to go.”
“The truth hurts sometimes, doesn’t it, Amelia Be Delia?”
“My client is coming. We’ll talk later.”
“Use protection!” she shouts into the phone before I end the call and slam it on my desk, as if hurting the phone will undo the truth of that conversation.
But I barely have time to think about the can of worms Penelope opened up and the lasting ramifications of my discussion with Ethan this morning before there’s a polite knock on my door.
Smoothing down the front of my dress, I greet my first client with a smile on my face and slip into therapist mode, hoping that underneath my put-together shell, she can’t see that I’m just as much of a mess as the next person.
* * *
