Fulfillment (Book 3 in The Temptation Series) (25 page)

“I don’t
know.” I brushed off her question. I didn’t want to honestly answer
it in front of anyone.

The door
buzzer sounded.

“I’ll be right
back.” Bryce kissed my forehead before he stood up and went to the
door.

I tilted my
head and watched him leave when Janette stepped into my line of
sight. “Okay, let’s take your blood pressure again.”

She placed the
stethoscope in the crook of my arm and began to pump the pressure
cuff that was still attached to my bicep. The cuff tightened then
slowly relaxed and loosened back out again. “Good, it’s going back
up again. You can sit now, but do it slowly. No fast movements or
actions, okay?”

I sat up just
as Bryce entered the room, opening the door for Jessica.
Oh,
fuck no. Why not invite, Chelsea, Gareth and the bitchy mum from
school. We’ll have a ‘we hate Alexis convention’. She better be
here to see Bryce.

They made
their way toward me and it was quite obvious, she was not here to
see Bryce.

My eyes
widened and pierced Bryce’s. “No, Bryce!” I said sternly.
“Definitely not.”

“Alexis, you
need to speak to someone, clearly.”

“Okay, I will,
but someone else. No offense Jessica.”
Actually, yes offense.
Plenty of offense for you.

“Alexis,
please let me help you,” she said kindly.
Oh my God. She is like
a mix of Glenda the Good Witch of the North and Cruella
DeVille.

“I don’t need
any help. I’m fine!” I snapped.

I hadn’t
noticed in that short space of time that Abigail and Janette had
been escorted out of the room by Bryce.

“You are
blaming yourself for the miscarriage, are you not?” she asked, or
more accurately stated. Her tone was still kind though.

“Not,” I
answered quickly, while looking around for my crutches.
Where
the fuck are my crutches? I’m going to fucking kill my Mr.
I’m-Carrying-You Clark.

“You feel
guilty.”

“No.”

“You’re
scared.”

“No.”

“You think you
deserve punishment.”

“Yes.” I
answered this not realising what I’d said.
Shit!
“No, I mean
no. Bryce, where are my crutches?”

He shrugged
his shoulders.

“Don’t fucking
play this game with me. I want my crutches, now!”

He looked down
at his hands.

“Bryce,
please,” I begged him.

“I’m sorry,
Alexis. I love you and want you to talk, to heal. Jessica can
help.”

“No, she
can’t.”

“Yes, she
can.”

“No,” I
screamed at him.

“Give her a
fucking chance, Alexis,” he shouted back. “I don’t want to see you
lying unconscious anymore. I can’t handle that, it fucking kills
me. Please just talk to her. Fuck!” He got up and stormed to the
elevator then turned back to face us. “Jessica, make her talk to
you. Do what you have to. I don’t fucking care what it takes.” He
slammed his hand on the button. “Alexis, I fucking love you.” He
stepped into the lift and left the room.

I sat there
stunned for God knows how long then moved my gaze to Jessica. She
was staring at the elevator doors, smiling fondly. I’m guessing her
fondness was for the man who just angrily left the room. It pissed
me off even more.
Get that look off your face now before I hop
over there and wipe it off.

I’d had just
about enough.

“I’m so proud
of him,” she said in awe.
What?

I didn’t
answer, but she continued to talk.

“He has come
so far since the death of his parents and his brother. At one point
I thought I would never again see the bright, intelligent, young
man my best friend gave birth to and raised.” She turned to me and
smiled.
Best friend?

“Stephanie
adored Bryce. She was always doting over him. He was her pride and
joy. She loved all three of her kids equally, but Bryce had a
special connection with his mother.”

I was
speechless, so I sat there and continued to listen.

“Stephanie and
I went to college together. She was a Social Sciences graduate and
her philosophy on life was truly unique. We hit it off instantly.
After she married Lindsay and gave birth to Bryce, her priorities
in life changed, but her outlook never did. She was a fantastic
mother, and Bryce was a real mummy’s boy.”

I smiled.
Yeah, I can actually imagine that.

“She brought
Bryce up to be passionate, outgoing, ambitious, and charming. All
the qualities a young man would require to go far in life; she was
so proud of him. But when she died, something in Bryce died too.
His passion diminished, he was no longer outgoing, his ambition
turned to determination, and his charm faded considerably,” she
said sadly as she stood up.

She walked
across to the grand piano and ran her finger along it. “Has he
played the piano for you?”

“No, I’ve
never seen him go near it. He has always played the guitar for
me.”

She raised her
eyebrows at me, knowingly. “He’s very good, isn’t he? This might
break doctor-patient confidentiality, but he did just say ‘do what
you have to, I don’t fucking care what it takes’, didn’t he?”

“He did,” I
agreed.

“Well, he
loves that you love watching him play the guitar. When he told me
about the first time he played for you, he was beyond happy, he was
boasting.”
Oh! My! God! He told her about that. I’ll kill
him.

I blushed.

“Oh, don’t
worry. He didn’t give me the details.”
Thank fuck.
“Alexis,
Bryce has come a long way over the years. But it wasn’t until he
met you that he got that spark back. Whatever had died in him, you
managed to resurrect. I have never seen a person so devoted, so in
awe, so in love before. At first I thought it might be unhealthy,
but over the past eight months I’ve come to realise that he
absolutely adores you and wants nothing more than your
happiness.”

Tears began to
fall down my cheeks. “I know,” I admitted.

“If you’re not
happy, he is not happy.”

“I know, I
feel the same way.” I was sobbing again.

She came back
to the couch and sat next to me, handing me a tissue.

“He is
absolutely terrified of losing you. Not just physically but
mentally. He knows what it feels like to lose someone both
physically and mentally.”

I looked up at
her. “Gareth?” I whispered.

“Yes, Gareth,”
she confirmed. “Alexis, please let me help you get through this. I
want to help you, not only for Bryce but for you. I have a deep
respect for the woman who tamed Mr. Bryce Clark.”

I stared at
her wide-eyed. “Okay.”

Dr Carrot-top
Jessica was not all that bad after all.

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

Nate and
Charlotte FaceTimed me the following day, and I had missed them
terribly, only having briefly talked to them on the phone a couple
of times since seeing them. I desperately wanted them to come home,
but I had to gain a good frame of mind before I let them see me,
and before I explained to them what had happened to me over a week
ago. The good thing was, I had a positive outlook now and truly
believed Jessica would help me get to the good frame of mind that I
needed. It had felt nice talking with her and I looked forward to
talking to her again. We had arranged to meet every day for the
coming week, and I felt terrible that I had made the wrong
assumption about her. A book’s cover did not always reflect its
contents.

***

Bryce and I
had made up when he returned after his false-imprisonment ploy. He
had been right in doing it though, and he had the best intentions,
so I could not stay mad at him. We were starting to get on each
other’s nerves, however, and we would deliberately bait each other
over the smallest things. I was starting to think it had more to do
with sexual frustration than anything else.

One of the
things I had been doing that was getting on his nerves was trying
to scratch underneath my cast. It was so God damned itchy, and I
couldn’t wait until the following Monday to have the cast removed
and the moon boot fitted. In the meantime though, I desperately had
to relieve the horrid irritating sensation on my leg, and I was
doing it by using all means possible. This was pissing Bryce off,
and the fact that he was trying to stop me from doing it was
pissing me off.

I woke up
Tuesday morning fidgeting, trying to scratch a really deep spot
down near my ankle which was practically impossible to reach.

“Alexis, for
fuck’s sake, stop scratching,” he groaned into his pillow.

“That’s easy
for you to say. You don’t have a tube of fucking plaster attached
to your leg irritating the shit out of you.” I stuck my finger back
down into the cast, but it fell way short of the spot.”

“You have been
tossing and turning all night,” he growled.

“I know. I’m
the one who has been doing the tossing and the turning.”

I got out of
bed, hopped to the bathroom and opened the vanity cupboard.
Excellent.
I grabbed Bryce’s comb and wedged it down into my
cast, relieving the annoying tingling.

“Oh yeah,
that’s what I’m talking about,” I purred with relief.

“What are you
doing?” he called out from the bedroom.

“Nothing, mind
your own business,” I called back, smiling and lapping up the
respite by happily pulling the comb up and down my leg.

“Hunny, stop
that.” He had gotten out of bed and was standing in the door way.
“The surgeon said not to poke things down into your cast.”

“No! I don’t
care what the friggin’ surgeon said. He is a hypocrite. He put this
stupid, heavy, irritating, ugly piece of shit on my leg. He does
not get to tell me not to itch.” I scratched a little more,
desperately trying to push the comb in deeper.

“Alexis, give
me that. Hang on a minute, is that my comb?” he questioned, with
eyebrows raised.

“Yes, it
is.”

He put his
hand out.

I yanked the
comb back out and threw it at his chest. “I hate you.”

He laughed.
“No, you don’t.”

I hopped past
him. “Right now? Yes, yes, I do.”

***

Bryce and I
had been working sporadically over the past week. He’d told me that
I didn’t need to, and that Abigail and Lucy were sharing my work
load. It’s just, I wanted to work. It helped stop my mind from
reverting back to the events of the accident. I still couldn’t stop
the flashbacks, and Jessica was still working on methods to help me
with it.

She had helped
me immensely throughout the week, having a covert talent in making
me open up to her completely, which was obviously a good thing. I
was functioning again, thinking clearly and not diverting off my
path to recovery—well...not as much—I still had moments of
self-defeat. Now, that I was back at work—sporadically or not—I
enjoyed the distraction, but I kind of felt useless, a hindrance; a
burden even.

Ever since I
had taken on the role of P.A for Bryce, I had brought nothing but
dramas to the job. Most of it was, in part, a result of his
introduction into my life, but regardless, I still felt someone
else could do my job better than me. I didn’t want to disrupt his
business life like I had disrupted his personal life.

Jessica had
told me to tell Bryce everything I was feeling when I was feeling
it. I had also told myself this before having my talk with Jessica,
but I guess her being a professional and instructing me to do it
kind of pushed the thought into an action.

I hit the
button on my phone and buzzed Bryce in his office.

“Yeah?” he
answered in his sexy, I’m-a-busy-billionaire-businessman voice.

“I think you
should replace me,” I said quite frankly.

“Excuse me?”
he replied, uncertainty in his tone.

“I suck, and
I’m a nuisance. There are plenty of other women who are better than
me,” I explained.

“Alexis, can
you come in here for a moment, please,” he said softly, but still
all businessman like.

“No. I
can’t.”

“Alexis!”

“Bryce! I
quit.”
There, I said it. That wasn’t too hard now, was
it?

His door
opened all of a sudden and he walked out into the foyer.

“You wanna
talk?” he asked.

I shook my
head.

“You want me
to talk?”

I shook my
head again
.

“You want me
to come over there, pick you up, carry you upstairs and spank your
sexy arse?” he said, quite casually.

I thought
about it.
Hmmm, actually yes, that does sound like a good
idea.

He noticed my
pause and made his way to my desk.

“No,” I said
quickly, with apprehension and playfulness in my voice.
Shit!
Too late.

I grabbed hold
of my desk just in time, as he bent down and put his arms gently
behind my back and under my legs.

“Let go,” he
demanded, a look of dominance and desire in his eyes.

I bit my lip
and shook my head quickly, feeling my control dwindle.

“If you don’t
let go of this desk now, I will pick it up, or drag it along with
us,” he breathed in my ear. “Your choice.”

I believed
him, so I let go.

He lifted me
up and carried me directly to the elevator.

“Are you
really going to spank me?” I asked curiously as we ascended.

“Do you want
me to?”

“Maybe. Do you
think I deserve it?” I raised my eyebrow at him.

“Oh, yes. I
found one of my drum sticks wedged in your cast last night after
you fell asleep on the sofa, so you definitely deserve it.”
Oh
shit! Remember to hide the evidence, Alexis, you fool.

“Damn it,” I
admitted.

He carried me
to the bedroom and placed me down on the bed, then very carefully
climbed on top of me, holding his weight and securing my hands
above my head.