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We all have a trigger, a button one can push. And in Juliet’s case, her trigger is sex. I’ve just made the undesirable feel desired, and in turn, I’m now in control.
They don’t call me New York’s finest shrink for nothing.
“Okay, good, Ms. Harte,” I say, addressing her as I would if we were in a session. “Don’t touch yourself until I leave,” I instruct, not at all interested in seeing her get off. Reaching for my tie, I slowly make my way to the door, watching Juliet’s trembling form.
“Goodbye, Ms. Harte.”
“Goodbye, Dr. Mathews.”
As I close the door behind me, I scrub my mouth with the back of my hand. Dashing to the elevators, I pray I don’t see Madison on the way out.
Thankfully, I don’t.
Driving home, I look at my reflection in the rearview mirror. Do I feel guilty for manipulating someone who had no qualms about manipulating me?
Absolutely not.
Deep down, I knew it would always come to this. This entire time, I was looking for “some other way.” And this option, thisismy other way. I’ll do what I have to in order to survive.
Losing a piece of my soul is worth it for the girl who makes my entire existence worthwhile. And besides, I never said I was the hero of this story or even the good guy. However, who wants to be good when it feels sogoodbeingbad?
It’s Friday night, and although I’m overjoyed I haven’t heard from Juliet, I’m feeling quite the opposite regarding Madison’s radio silence.
I don’t know what I expected. An acknowledgment that she’d received my letter would have been nice. I guess I’ll just have to hope she shows up on Sunday. Otherwise, I don’t know what to do.
Finch is down for the count with the flu, so it’s just Hunter and me, which usually means trouble. I’ve been in enough trouble this week, so I suggested we have pizza and beer at my place as this limits the possible danger we can get into.
“Where’s the pizza? I’m starving,” says Hunter as he barges through my front door.
“Please, come in,” I sarcastically reply, looking up at him from the sofa. I must remember to lock my door.
He ignores my mockery and slumps down onto the cushion next to me. “How’s your week been?”
I shrug and sip my beer. “Apart from Maddy giving me the cold shoulder, it’s been good.”
He pulls back, appearing stunned. “Good? I thought I’d come over, and you’d be listening to Michael Bolton while curled in the fetal position.”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Hey, I just know how hung up you are about her, that’s all. So why are you good?”
The joys of knowing someone your entire life is they know you better than you know yourself. Seeing no point in denying it, I confess, “I saw Juliet the other night.”
“What? By choice?” The disgust in his tone is clear.
“Yes, by choice. Ironically, I had no other choice.”
Just as I raise my beer to my lips, Hunter snags it from me. “I have a feeling I’ll be needing this.”
I don’t argue.
“Dr. Chad Turner visited me this week and, to cut a long, fucked-up story short, I’m now in the running to win the Gerald Harriet’s Award.”
“Fuck me, that’s awesome. Congrats!” Hunter’s silence reveals he’s piecing together why I needed to see Juliet. “What did you do, Dix?”
Although I’m not proud of what I did, I lean forward and snatch the NDA off the coffee table. I pass it to Hunter, who reads it over, his eyes widening. “How the hell did you get her to sign this?”
When I look away, he groans. I’m brought back to earth when my neck jars forward, thanks to a slap to the back of the head.“You stupid motherfucker. So help me God, I will cut off your dick if you tell me you fucked her.”
