Page 2 of Beautiful Deception
I wonder if his other patients feel the same way—a mix of comfort and unease. Yet the strange pull toward him is undeniable. The doubts I had, the ones that fester and cover my soul, wipe off like water stains on a mirror. It’s only for a moment, but the effects are too impressive.
I feel safe with him, and I hate it. This giddy warmth in me feels disgustingly light. I don’t want to trust him; sometimes, he would give me moments of hair-raising chills, but most of the time, he’s the tender spring sunlight when my blood runs cold.
Dr. Kian, who is tolerant of my sudden phone calls but never too indulgent of my whims, is an important figure in my life when he willingly blurs the line of professionalism during volatile nightmares.
“Do you want to remember?”
As he slightly tilts his head, waiting for the answer that’s growing hooks on my tongue, I look toward the sound of his voice, finding it difficult to focus on the melted blend of toffee hues in his eyes.
“Healing takes time, but the first step must be taken by you.”
I grimace and tip my head back on the armchair. “Can you pull me? Maybe a shove, too.”
He shakes his head and chuckles, then writes something onto the paper.
“I would be influencing you,” he notes and taps the pen on the clipboard.
“I’m paying you,” I mutter, my breath catching in my throat as I try to force a smile. “You’re supposed to help me.”
“Yes, and I am,” he concurs with a light but stern stare. “However, I value your mental health more than money.”
A heartbeat rips apart, and the last half slams into the following beat with such force that my ears snap. Then the rest panics, turning into a flurry of snow rolling down an avalanche as my trembling fingers curl into my clammy palms.
“I want to decide that for myself.” I bite down on my tongue, and dull pain guides my thoughts through the fogginess.
“I’m sorry,” he drawls lowly, “but I won’t allow you to hurt yourself.”
It’s a childish thought, but it’s one that plagues my mind a lot. If I were to buy him, then he’d have no choice but to listen to everything I ask him to do. He probably has the experience to stop those nightmares, but he’d face legalities.
So, if he’s mine, then he doesn’t have to worry about ethics.
“My answer is still the same,” he says, and it’s scary how easily he reads me. “I’m always here for you, but I’m not up for sale.”
“If,” I needle absentmindedly as he slides the pen into the clipboard holder, “if you only do brainwashing—”
“You wouldn’t know it.” His charcoal gray button-up stretches across his chest as he stands from his chair and tightens around his biceps after he gathers the files neatly.
There’s a cord of tension between my fingers, a need to stroke the sharply defined vein down his tense forearm.
“Words have power.” Dr. Kian’s eyebrows draw together, and a snare of scathing bait drips into the sincerity of his eyes. “Be mindful with them.”
***
With a gentle thump, the heavy glass door closes behind me as I exit the building. The crisp air does little to ease the lingering tension from my therapy session with Dr. Kian. As the day draws to a close, the shadows grow.
A sleek black vehicle comes out of nowhere as I approach my car, colliding with mine in a violent crash. Metal twists and glass shatters, leaving a scene of chaos in front of me.
It happened in the blink of an eye, an astonishing speed that compressed time into a split second, and the thunderous boom slashed through the air, piercing my ears.
My heart pounds wildly within my chest as I stumble backward, physically unscathed but emotionally rattled to the core.
The wrecked black car’s door swings open, and a man steps out, dressed in a fitting black shirt and dark pants that accentuates the powerful muscles in his long legs. His dark eyes lock onto mine, and there's hazy caution in his gaze that sends a staggering jolt down my spine.
His arm shoots out, clamping his hand onto a bloodied man’s head, all without looking a moment out of breath. He stares at me from a distance, but I can feel my skin prickle and blood cower toward my heart.
Even when he directs his uncanny attention to the injured man whose knees have buckled, the tingling sensation persists.
Another black SUV pulls up, swerving next to both damaged cars, and two suited men cuff the fainted man.