“I go first,” I say as I lean forward to wrap my cold fingers around the even colder glass.

Alec nods, his eyes never leaving mine. “Okay.”

“What’s your real name?”

“Alexandre Buraquinho. My parents are of Brazilian descent.”

“Why do you use a different name to do your work in—”

“I believe it’s my turn,” he interrupts calmly. I nod and wait for his question. “Did your mother involve you in her…work?”

My mouth drops open.

I start with a reasonable question and he jumps in with this?

“That’s not…I don’t think…”

“I answered your question, Samantha,” he points out nonchalantly.

“But I—”

“It’s not my fault you chose to start with such banality.”

I feel the tension around my mouth as my lips draw into a tight, straight line. Already, I feel like I’ve been had. If I’m to continue this, I need to be smarter about the questions I ask because I have no intention of answering all Alec’s probing inquiries about my childhood.

But this one, I have to answer if I’m to get any insight of my own. “No, she never did.” Which is true. It was never her.

Alec nods, his eyes piercing my soul as he searches for…something.

“Why didn’t you introduce yourself as Dr. B when we met in Charleston? I was already your patient.”

“I knew you weren’t ready to meet face-to-face yet.”

“Yet you came to see me anyway. Don’t you think that’s a bit unprofessional?”

Alec shrugs, completely unconcerned. “Maybe. But I wanted to see Laura Drake in her natural environment.”

“Why?”

“She fascinates me.”

“Why?” I ask again.

“Because I felt like we had a lot in common?”

“You don’t know anything about me. You—”

“Oh, I can deduce plenty from reading your work.”

Understanding dawns, and with it comes crushing disappointment. I feel a lump form in my throat. “So I’m like some sort of work project to you? Some kind of freak to observe and dissect?”

Again, he shrugs. “I have a clinical interest in you, yes.” Hearing him say it aloud is nearly devastating. On top of everything else, I feel like such a fool. I take another sip of scotch, focusing on the sting of the fluid as it sears my throat. I have to get out of here.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Dr. Buraquinho, but you won’t be getting inside my head.” My smile is tight and sarcastic, and my jaws ache from gritting my teeth.

I set my glass down and move to the edge of the cushion, preparing to stand. Alec’s words stop me. “But I have a very different interest in you as a woman. As Samantha.”

“And what’s that?” I ask sharply, anger rising up as a natural attempt to conceal hurt and humiliation.

Alec looks down at his glass where he swirls the amber liquid inside it. “Well, that’s a little more complicated.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I think it’s my turn to ask a few questions, don’t you?”

I want to pout and refuse to answer any more of his queries, but that would make me seem like a petulant child, and I don’t need to make a bigger fool of myself than I already have.

Relaxing back into the cushion in a manner that belies the tension I feel on the inside, I clasp my hands in my lap and answer, “I suppose so.”

There are a dozen questions I can think of that I hope and pray he doesn’t ask. I hold my breath in the silence before he speaks.

“When was your last relationship?”

I’m both puzzled and caught off guard by his question. For whatever reason, I wasn’t expecting for him to go in this direction.

“Two and a half years ago.”

“Why did it end?”

My muscles tighten defensively. This is the tip of an iceberg that’s haunted my entire adult life. I have to be careful how I answer. I can’t risk revealing too much.

“It just…didn’t work out.” I pick at my pants, knowing my answer is a cop out. I hope he doesn’t dig deeper.

“I thought we were being honest here, Samantha.”

There’s something about the way he says my name. Even now, in this office, surrounded by tension, it’s like a caress. I feel it all the way to my core. And I shiver in response.

“I am being honest. That’s the—”

“All right then, let me be more specific. What was the exact cause of death? Did you end it or did he?”

“That’s two questions.”

“Stop deflecting.”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.”

I want to huff. Or stomp my foot. But I don’t. Thankfully, being Laura Drake has taught me a lot about maintaining a façade, even during difficult times. She’s a strong rock behind which I can hide. And I do. Very often.

I clear my throat. “The ‘cause of death’ as you put it was a result of my own insecurities. It always is.”

“Self-sabotage?”

I think on this. “No, I want nothing more than to have a normal relationship, but—”

“Normal? How do you define normal?”

I feel color bloom in my cheeks. I’m at a total loss on how to answer him without giving too much away, without giving him a glimpse of my shame.

I remind myself that I could just get up and walk out. I don’t have to answer anything. It’s only my curiosity about Alec, my unwillingness to just let the possibility of him go, that spurs me on.

“You can tell me, Samantha,” he says softly. “There’s no judgment here.”

Something inside me clicks, as if for one moment in time, all the walls and the guile and the scars shift just enough to let someone in. And it all happens before I can make the conscious effort to stop it.

“A normal sexual relationship, where I can…receive pleasure as well as give it.”

“Do you feel that you don’t receive pleasure?”

“No. I do get pleasure from an intimate relationship. But some of the men I’ve dated expect…”

“Expect?”

“Isn’t it my turn to ask a question?”

“After this one, yes.”

I hold in my sigh. “The men I’ve dated have wanted more…response from me than what comes naturally,” I say vaguely, my cheeks heating again.

Why the hell are you still here?

I honestly don’t know the answer to that. I feel like I’ve been taken over.

By Alec.

Even though no one is making me stay, I’m feeling trapped and mortified when Alec leans forward to put his elbows on his knees. When he speaks, his voice, as placid as a calm lake, soothes me. I feel almost hypnotized, as though I’m not in complete control. As though I’m being eased into submission.

“You don’t need to hide things from me, Samantha. I knew from reading Laura Drake’s work that she had some sexually traumatic experiences in her life. Now, after putting you together with her, it paints a picture of someone who needs to come to terms not only with her past, but with who she is today. Who she is, what she wants and how to go forward.”

He’s so right. About all of it. But even as I’m laid bare before him, I can’t forget that he has his own secrets. I can’t forget that, while he is distracting me like a world class snake charmer, he’s the one hiding fangs. He’s the dangerous one, capable of great harm and a wicked bite.

“Why are you so fascinated by someone like Laura Drake? What brings a man like you into a profession like this? I’m beginning to think you have as much to hide as I do.”

The corners of Alec’s mouth curve into a small, cool smile. It’s not warm or genuine. It’s ironic. Bitter, even. I’m certain I struck a nerve when he doesn’t answer me, just continues to watch me with that odd expression.

When a muted beep sounds from the desk behind me, Alec’s expression turns curiously blank and clinical. “Our time is up.”

I know he’s speaking about more than just today and this visit. He’s saying that our time is up, that we’re done. Over, even though we never really started.

“You’re not going to answer my question?”

“Unfortunately, I have a lunch engagement.”

“How convenient,” I say, standing to my feet.

With every intention of walking away and never looking back, no matter how bad it hurts, I head for the door. Alec’s voice stops me.

“You could always keep your appointment for Thursday.”

I pause with my hand on the door knob. I glance over my shoulder to see Alec standing beside his desk, his hands tucked casually in the pockets of his dark gray slacks. He cuts a striking figure with his neatly-combed black hair and bronze skin that contrast so sharply with the pale green shirt that matches his eyes. He’s my Mason through and through. Only he’s not. And he’s certainly not mine.

“We’ll see,” I say quietly before I turn and leave him behind.

********

“Holy shit in a brown paper bag! What are the odds?” Chris asks in her colorful way.

“Promise me you didn’t know about this.”

“Of course I didn’t know! I’ve only read some articles written by Dr. B. I thought he was a she, too. There are never any pictures and they’re always attributed to Dr. A. Buraquinho. How was I supposed to know a man would know that much about women and sex? I mean, Dr. Ruth. Female. Hello!”

Although I’m still a little suspicious, I don’t think Chris would ever lie to me. At least I hope she wouldn’t. We’ve both been through too much in life to betray what little bit of trust we can find.

“Chris, seriously, I almost had heart failure.”

“I can imagine,” she replies. “So, what the hell are you going to do? You’re not thinking about going back, are you?”

When she says it like that, it makes me sound insane for even considering it. But I am. Considering it, that is. I have more questions. Or at least that’s what I’ve been telling myself all day. I have more questions and he owes me answers. But, deep down, I know I want more time, too. More time in his presence, more time with my Mason.

Because the two got twisted together in my brain, I feel as though letting go of one would mean letting go of the other. And I’m not ready to do that.

“Sam?” she prompts when I haven’t answered.

“I don’t know Chris. I feel like I’m losing my mind. I just… I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, you know I’ll support you in whatever you decide, but be careful, Sam. This guy could be dangerous.”

Now she tells me!

I don’t respond.

Because I already knew that.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - Alec

It’s hard to be objective about my motives now. My professional interest and my sexual interest are now indivisibly tangled when it comes to Samantha Jansen. I was simply intrigued, clinically speaking, by Laura Drake.

Mostly.

If I’m being brutally honest with myself, I have to admit that, upon meeting her, I was attracted to Laura Drake, even though she’s not the kind of female that normally does it for me. Since Alyssa, I’ve pretty much avoided women like that. Maybe it’s a matter of once burned, twice shy. Or maybe it’s a matter of self-preservation. Alyssa nearly destroyed my life.

I shudder to think what would become of me if something like that happened now, at this point in my life. Even though I’ve advanced in maturity, control and age, it’s not worth the risk.

Yet, here I am. Contemplating taking just such a gamble. It wouldn’t have been an issue when Samantha was just Samantha. But now she’s Samantha and Laura. She’s what I want most, yet what I abhor. And it’s a potent cocktail. She’s a potent cocktail. Forbidden fruit mixed with my one true weakness. It’s as delicious as it is ill-advised.

I probably shouldn’t have left the ball in her court the way I did. I should’ve said goodbye and moved on to other interesting subjects. But I didn’t.

At least I know now that she’s not as inexperienced as I’d once thought. While that was part of the appeal, this combination—wild thing under wraps and innocent thing with issues—quite possibly holds even more allure. But with Laura Drake in the mix, if she proceeds, I know it will be with eyes wide open.

And when I break her, she’ll have no one to blame but herself.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - Samantha

I know I should leave, leave while I have the chance. I see what he does to the women in his life. I see that they are never quite freed of him. That’s the kind of trouble that I don’t need.

And yet, I know that, even as I sit here debating the wisdom of a relationship with Mason, that I will go forward. It is beyond my control now. Giving him one inch, I knew he would take a mile. And that I would let him.

There is no doubt I will enjoy the ride. But I have to try and survive it as well.

That’s the hard part.

Daire Kirby—the fictional mirror image of the twisted wreckage of my life. Like her, I’m faced with an out; a way to avoid what I know could be unspeakable pleasure as well as unspeakable pain. But also like Daire, I’ll choose the path that takes me right through the fires of hell. I know it as surely as I’m sitting here, getting ready to call for the cab that will take me back to Alec’s office. Back to him.

My fingers hover over the number pad on the telephone. I watch as they tremble ever so slightly. And then, with an uncertain definitiveness, I press the buttons for the taxi service.