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Concession was not his strong suit.
“I’d like a say.”
“Asay,Saraci,” she said. “Not you telling me what to buy, and if I want something different, you grumble and create stories about a clock your mother bought you in Turkey when I’m pretty sure I saw it on Wayfair at some point.”
A smile almost crept up on him. “Fine. And it’s going above the fireplace.”
“No, it’s not.”
They stared each other down.
“Daniels? A word.” He set down the clock, started for the garage, stopped at the garage door, and turned around.“Daniels.”
Delilah jumped.
Miguel cleared his throat and held up the box. “Uh, where do I put this in the meantime?”
“In the garage,” Raina answered.
“Upstairs, in the first bedroom on the left,” Lucas countered. “My office.”
“Lucas, we never finished discussing which room would be your office. Plus, you said that’s the room youdidn’twant.”
“Well, I want it now.”
Raina pointed to a corner. “Miguel, put it over there, and then I need to speak with you about a pressing matter regarding a certain megalomaniac.”
Lucas snorted. “Daniels,on your way, bring holy water.”
Delilah set the books on the floor and dragged her legs over to him. He opened the garage door for her to step through and followed her, the door slamming behind them.
Had Miguel not been a family friend, one of Raina’s best friends since childhood and her sister’s fiancé, he would have stayed inside. The man was young, handsome, and rich. On the other hand, he was a little over a decade older than Raina, and Miguel had the benefit of not being a pain in Raina’s unexpectedly soft ass.
Delilah sighed and leaned against the garage wall. “Yes, Dr. S? You bellowed?”
He stared at the closed garage door. “I want that woman to have my children.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” He scratched his forehead. “I don’t know. Why am I talking to you about this? About any of this?”
“I ask myself that same question every day. I’m starting to think I should form a support group for current and former students who have suffered abuse at the hands of Dr. Lucas Saraci.”
“I’m hard on you because it makes you stronger.” Already, he’d been called into the department head’s office twice because of his “evident preference” for Delilah Daniels.
Contrary to what they’d accused him of, there were other students he gave opportunities to. Promising students who balanced intellect with empathy. Thinkers and problem-solvers who saw patients as people.
His mother, with her broken, highly-accented English and her hijab, wasn’t seen as a person. His best friend wasn’t seen as a person until it was too late.
“In the beginning, I was afraid of you,” Delilah said. “Now, I’m no longer afraid of you because I think you’re too insane to be a realistic threat.”
He restrained a laugh. “Insane?”
“There are people with psychoses. There are people with trauma. There are people with personality disorders. None of these people are categorically insane. They’re sick, and they deserve our care the same way we might treat someone with cancer or diabetes. But then,” she gestured to him, “there’s you. You deserve only loathing.”
He held back another laugh. “I like your sister, and I don’t mean I like her a little bit.”
“You don’t say.”
