ROYAL BRIDE (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance) (28 page)

“I want to see you.”

“Okay. Rephrase that. What’s wrong?”

“Meet me at the coffee shop near the office.”

“All right. I’ll be there in a half hour.”

I was glad to leave the office behind. I went inside the shop, not ordering until he arrived. He arrived quicker than I thought. As I made my way down the stairs to greet him, I saw a limo go by. His limo. His face, looking crestfallen, passed by. I snapped my head away from his and guided Kent inside.

“I had a really emotional session,” I said.

“Okay, what happened?” He was so concerned. There was something so sane about our interaction, the kind of sanity I found comfort in. When I lost my mind, I found his sanity and logic to be so comforting. I needed him, Kent, right now. I needed to be reminded of who I really was beneath my immoral feelings, beneath my lust.

“I heard Mr. Carson’s fiancée on the phone. She’s cheating on him. I don’t know what to do,” I informed him.

“Whoa. All right. Major dilemma. First, I’m gonna get coffee, and then we can talk once we have some caffeine in us.”

Just as I was beginning to feel safe, Billy walked in. He looked furious. I gulped, wanting to hide behind the napkin holder.

He greeted me, forcing a smile. “Fancy seeing you here,” he said, not sounding the least bit surprised.

“Hello again,” I greeted him in my professional voice. “We’re going to a Broadway play. Wanted to stop in and get some coffee.” Billy was lying. I could see right through it. His face was tight. His bright green eyes pierced through me like a laser. He was seething with jealousy after seeing me with Kent just now. Fiona trailed behind him, clearly in a jealous fit as well.

“I hope the coffee here is good. Doesn’t seem like a high-class place,” she spat.

“It’s great,” I said, trying to cut the tension. “Very good coffee, Mr. Carson.” I attempted to make my aloofness clear to him.

Kent returned, looking as bright-eyed and happy as usual. He put our coffee down and stopped when he saw Billy. “Mr. Carson! Hello,” he said warmly. He reached out his hand. Billy took it, almost squeezing it off. Kent removed his hand but remained standing. They looked into each other’s eyes, scoping each other out—all for a silent but subconsciously obvious reason.

“I’ve seen you in the office, haven’t I?” Billy asked Kent.

“Yes! I’m a counselor there,” Kent replied. I could hear the pride in his voice.

“We’d better get coffee and get going. The play starts in a half hour,” Fiona whined again, still sounding childish.

“See you next week, Doc,” Billy said to me, his eyes looking seductively into mine.

Kent and I sat in an uncomfortable silence after they walked to the counter to order. I sipped my coffee, willing it to burn my mouth so I would have a reason to run to the bathroom. I was begging the cosmos for Kent obliviousness to what was happening. Luckily, he didn’t say anything until they left.

From the moment Billy walked in until the moment the door closed behind him, I could feel his eyes on me—like he was staking his territory. The feeling was alarming and fucking intoxicating at the same time.

“Was he hitting on you?” he finally asked.

Wamp wamp wamp,
I thought.

“No.” I shook my head. “He’s like that with everyone.”

Kent was too well trained; he understood the lie in my denial. He decided not to push me. “Okay. But if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you.”

He took my hand in his. It felt so warm. I looked at him shyly, feeling pure again.

“Just remember. You worked so hard to be where you are now. Don’t let one situation with a client take that from you.” There was a subtle warning in his voice, and I knew he was right. I wanted to break down and cry. Professionally, I was in over my head. Personally, I was confused as all hell.

Katie

What kind of a person was I? I sat in my room at home, scrawling notes for my doctoral dissertation. I felt like a hypocrite as I wrote the words. As the days passed, my normally strong professional resolve was wavering. Feelings of guilt quickly turned to moments of exhilaration. The fact that such a gorgeous and powerful older man wanted me was not only terrible, it was delectable. I had decided that it was okay to feel these things as long as I kept them inside my own head. I didn’t really have much of a choice, after all. The idea of referring him to someone else kept springing in and out of my consciousness.

As a student, I was often instructed to refer to another colleague if anything even remotely unethical might be happening. That’s exactly what I should have done. I, too, am human, though. Paying that tuition bill and the next three in advance felt so good. If I told my boss what was happening, she’d report him for harassment and he’d be gone. Worse, I wouldn’t see him anymore. I was falling for him, and it had been such a long time since I’d felt this way for a man. When I saw his ungrateful fiancée in subsequent sessions, my blood would boil. I had a wicked sort of excitement at the thought that he felt the same way when he saw me with Kent.

He was jealous as hell. The sheer intoxication of this made me helpless. I imagined him pinning me up against the wall, and guilt would trip through my brain. Because I was guilty. Horribly guilty. The more I tried to stay away from the line, the more I wanted to cross it. He was like a siren, tempting me with his eyes
.

No. You’re fine. You didn’t do anything
. I tried to assure myself.
Yet,
the evil voice in the back of my head said.

I gulped. Was it really just a matter of time? Of course not. I would never cross that line. But I would admit it was fun to feel this way. On top of it, he was giving me money for school. I’d done some selfish things for my education, like moving far away and taking out a million loans. Spoiling myself with new shoes and a wardrobe so I could look good in graduate school and meet all the right people. This would be one of those selfish things, and I would never go beyond that. But that feeling—it was such an addiction. I wanted to bask in his wanting me and his possessiveness because I wanted him just as badly.

Only two weeks had gone by since our first session with Fiona, but the more I saw him during our sessions, the more and more my resolve faded. Each time I saw him in the newspaper or on the news, it would increase. I imagined myself in Fiona’s place, a place she didn’t deserve. She was just using him for his money, and I knew it. It would be unethical to tell him, though. Kent was right. He’d have to find out on his own.

My phone vibrated, and my heart leapt. It was him.

Carson Client:
Doc, I need to go away on business. I don’t want to admit it, but I need some help on the trip. I’ve been too jumpy to do anything lately.

I took a deep breath and texted him back.

Katie Warren LPC:
Mr. Carson, I do sometimes help clients through difficult trips. Can we do it from the phone, or do you feel that you need me to accompany you?

Carson Client:
It’s urgent that you come for emotional support. Please don’t make me ask again.

Katie Warren LPC:
Meet me at my office in two hours if you would like to discuss this further. I have a staff meeting shortly after.

Carson Client
:
OK. See you there.

People with his condition were jumpy and paranoid. It might really help him to have a trusted someone traveling with him to provide therapy and support. Of course, if we could do it by phone, that would be best. He could easily accuse me of abandonment, though, but his request was bizarre, so I was sure no one would blame me if I didn’t go with him.

Ugh. Who was I kidding? This was totally inappropriate. People would blame me if I
did
go with him, not if I didn’t. This was clearly crossing the line, and no matter what lies I tried to tell myself, I knew it well. This was not ethical or professional. If I had read about this kind of a thing in class, my professors would have pointed a finger at the counselor as being at fault.

Nonetheless, I was thrilled to see him. I put on my best red business skirt set and smoothed my hair. I applied red lipstick for good measure and put on my glasses. I looked hot and I knew it. I was trying to look hot for myself, of course, not for him.

Just keep telling yourself that.

I was glad I had my umbrella; it was raining heavily outside, one of those weird rains while the sun was still out. A beautiful rain. The train took forever, especially since I was nearly spilling out of my dress with anticipation. Everything around me looked the same as always, but I felt so different. The charge and spark that Billy fostered in me was like nothing I had ever felt.

My feet were sore by the time I got to the office. It was dark inside. He was waiting for me. The receptionist sat reading a book, looking bored and idle. I waved hello to her and got out the keys to my office.

“Come on in and get yourself settled,” I instructed.

I could feel his eyes on my back, much like I had that day in Times Square. Only this time, it was real. Guilty, delicious thoughts of him enjoying my outfit crept into my mind. I pushed them down and took a seat, resuming my professional role.

“Where are you going?” I asked him.

“California. My flight leaves tomorrow. I have a big deal to seal.” His face was pale and ashen.

“What’s going on in your head?”

“I thought I would try to let myself be vulnerable, like you said, so here it is… When I’m in a new place, I feel really out of control. I am jumpy and feel like someone is going to come up behind me at any minute. I wouldn’t normally ask this of you, but I need to make this deal happen.”

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. What was I going to do?

“Your trip is paid for, and I will pay your salary for that day plus extra,” he added.

Before, I thought he was just trying to get me into bed. Now, I wasn’t so sure of his intentions. My heart betrayed me by sinking. I snapped out of the sinking feeling.

“Okay, Billy. I’ll consider it.”

I should have said no. I should have pushed him away and told him that it was over and that I would have to refer him to another counselor. This was not professional and could have serious implications for us both, but I couldn’t seem to bring myself to say no.

He paused, a smile lighting up his face.

“What?” I snapped.

“You just called me by my name, Doc.”

My face reddened. Damn him for noticing. I hoped he didn’t notice my embarrassment, but his grin said otherwise. I cleared my throat. “Well, that is your name, isn’t it?” I stood up and paced my office. “I can only go with you if I can reschedule two of my other sessions booked this week.”

“I’ll pay them if I have to,” he said.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I can. While we’re here, though, we should have a session. Sound good?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. There’s some stuff I should probably talk about anyway.”

“Like?”

“You.”

I gulped.
Oh, God
. “What about me?”

“I can confide in you about anything without you telling anyone, right?” he asked.

“Yes, of course. But if it’s information that can harm you or someone else, I will have to breach that confidence.”

He laughed. “No. It won’t harm you, not in the least. It wouldn’t harm anyone else either, because I would never cheat on Fiona.”

“Okay. Go ahead.” I tried to ignore my thudding heart. Fuck.

“I’m jealous of something I saw a few weeks ago. At the coffee shop. You were there with that guy, and I thought about how lucky he was to have you.”

I tensed in my chair, my hand faltering around my pen. “Jealous of my colleague—that we were having coffee?”

“Yes. He doesn’t seem like he’d know what to do with you. You’re too feisty for him. I’ll have to bravely tell you that yes, it made me jealous.”

My heart raced with desire. I tried to remain objective and professional, but it was so hard when I looked at his big arms and bright eyes.

“Thank you for sharing that with me. This is also a form of transference. Did you get jealous in your other relationships?”

His eyes lit up as if in recognition. “Now that you mention it, yes. But I never had a reason to be. I can satisfy my women.”

I wrote down that there was jealousy in his past.

“I imagine making you scream with my tongue. Is that terrible?” he asked seductively.

“You are crossing the line. You can’t tell me stuff like that,” I warned him. I wasn’t sure who I was warning, though him or me. I was growing wetter and stickier by the minute.

“Okay.” He moved back into his seat.

“Anything else bothering you?” I asked.

“Yes. Fiona. I suspect something. I think there’s someone else,” he confessed.

I nearly dropped my pen. Now I really had to work hard to maintain my composure. “What makes you say that?”

“She’s different. Less aroused. She’s secretive about her phone. To tell you the truth, my son may be right.”

“Right about what?” I inquired.

“Right about whether or not she loves me for me or for my money.”

“What do you think?”

“My mother and Sophia are the only two people besides my son that I know love me for me.”

“That must be a hard feeling to deal with, considering she’s your partner,” I commented.

“It is. I wanted her to come on the trip, but I can’t allow her to see me like this. She thinks I’m broken, and every time I slip up, she’s there to throw it in my face.”

His demeanor changed. He was angry—venting. I let him continue, knowing how important it was for him to feel safe telling me all of this… as a therapist of course, not a lover. I recalled learning in class about dual relationships and how damaging they could be to the counseling process, and now I could see why.

“Nothing is ever enough for her. When I try to come to her for support—when I can bring myself to do that—she is never there for me.” He looked horribly dejected.