Chapter 6 #2
"You didn't wear the shirt," she says, sweeping her gaze from my shoulders to my throat.
"The dry cleaner was closed by the time I got there. Sorry," I offer.
She forces a smile, but disappointment fills it. She glances at her dress. "Maybe I should change?"
"Why? You look great."
"It doesn't go with what you're wearing."
"It's fine. Let's go before the reservation turns into a threat from the chef," I tease, forcing myself not to tell her how ridiculous she sounds. I grab her wool coat off the rack. "You'll need this. It's freezing out there."
She slides into the arms, and we leave. I order a car in the elevator, and it's waiting for us when we get outside.
I hold the door open, and Seraphina slides across the seat. I slip next to her, and the driver veers into traffic.
Silence fills the cab.
"You're quiet," she says, cutting through the soft hum of the engine.
Annoyance prickles into my nerves. I reply, "I'm quiet a lot."
"Well, tonight it's courtroom-before-a-verdict quiet," she says with a smile.
Blue's lips are fuller.
I take my gaze off her mouth and meet her eyes. "Long week."
"Is this the part where I pretend I don't know you're deflecting?" she asks.
A humorless breath escapes my chest. "It's confidential."
She gently states, "Everything with you is, but I'm not asking for details. I'm asking whether you're walking into tonight or escaping from something else."
"I'm good. Glad to spend time with you tonight," I say in a half-truth, and pick up her hand. I kiss the back of it.
She smiles. "I've actually been looking forward to our date all week."
"Me too," I lie. I didn't remember we had one until she texted today.
It's Blue's fault.
I shift in my seat, stare out the window, and the driver pulls behind a large SUV. The Belmont glows against the street, all golden warmth and curated elegance.
"That was fast," Seraphina says.
I step out of the car and help her out. She loops her arm through mine and walks beside me with the certainty of someone who never doubts her place anywhere.
My nerves calm. I escort her inside and wait in line to tell the hostess my name. I realize tonight's going to be great, and it's just what I needed.
The hostess, a woman with a nose ring and dark hair, chirps, "Welcome to the Belmont. Do you have a reservation?"
"Dr. Mercer," I announce.
She scans her tablet, then nods. She grabs two menus. "Yes. Right this way." She leads us through the crowd.
We're almost at our table when something in the room shifts. A bright, breathless, impossible-to-ignore laugh cuts through the restaurant.
My stride falters, and hairs on my neck rise. I glance around the restaurant.
Seraphina notices. She murmurs, "Is something wrong?"
My chest tightens as my eyes zoom in on Blue. She sits near the long window at a huge table. A dozen women fill the seats. Charcuterie boards, half-drunk cocktails, and menus sit in front of them.
Blue commands the space without trying. Her silky, azure-blue dress clings to her body in liquid curves.
The sculpted bodice looks effortless, but the engineered whisper-thin bodice can't be ignored.
Each line stitched into the interior is a secret known only to the wearer.
The neckline sweeps into a softened V. It's low, but not crude, and frames her upper chest like a deliberate invitation rather than an accident.
Across her bare left shoulder, an asymmetrical panel of hand-embroidered cobalt glass beads shines bright.
They scatter down the bodice like falling stars, concentrated at the top and dissolving as they reach the waist. When she moves, the beads catch the light, creating a subtle, mesmerizing shimmer that draws attention without begging for it.
Her blue hair has the red strands twisted up, exposing her graceful neckline. A few strands escape and skim her cheek.
The room narrows until there's nothing left but Blue.
I must be seeing things.
Her laughter drifts again, and my balls tighten.
Seraphina's voice snaps through my trance. "Friend of yours?"
I turn away from Blue. "No."
Her eyes turn to slits.
I move her toward our table and pull out a chair.
She takes her seat, and I sit across from her, within sight of Blue's table. It's far enough to pretend distance, yet close enough that every rise and fall of her voice threads into the air around us.
Seraphina studies me. "Should I guess, or will you spare me the effort?"
"Client," I say.
"That answers nothing," she replies.
"You know my work is confidential. I don't ask you about private corporate meetings," I remind her.
"Touché," she says, pursing her lips.
The waiter arrives.
Seraphina asks, "Should we get a bottle of Barolo?"
I nod, but the entire exchange blurs when, from the corner of my eye, I see Blue rise.
Blood rushes through my veins. Unable to help myself, I glance over.
Her friends barely look up. She says something to them and motions toward the back, and her steps angle unmistakably toward our section.
Her stride is unhurried, her posture deceptively relaxed, but I catch the tension under the surface. Her spin has an extra degree of straightness. Her gaze sharpens with focus and locks into mine. Her lips curl at the edges.
Heat punches through my chest with ruthless precision.
Before I know it, she's at our table. She tosses me a sultry look, ignoring Seraphina like she's not at the table. In a breathless voice, full of satin and steel, she oozes, "Dr. Mercer."
My cock springs to life. I try to stay cool, replying, "Blue. This is unexpected."
"Chicago's big, but not that big," she replies lightly.
"True."
She beams, "Look! We match!" She steps closer, her sweet scent intruding in my space, her hip too close for my comfort.
Fuck, she smells good.
Seraphina jumps in like a predator, interjecting, "Red. Are you going to introduce us?"
It takes another second before I break my gaze. I motion between the women. "Seraphina. Blue. We work together."
Blue's eyes spark. "Work. Interesting description."
Seraphina offers her hand. "Seraphina Vale."
Blue glances at it, then narrows her gaze. "Nice to meet you. Blue Ivanov."
Their eyes meet in a silent, razor-sharp assessment. Seraphina spots the threat. Blue spots the competition. I'm the loser in the room.
I take a sip of water and clear my throat. "How's your night?"
Blue returns to acting like Seraphina doesn't exist. She chirps, "Great. Girls' night."
Seraphina leans back, crossing her elegant legs. "Date night for us." She slides her hand over my forearm.
Blue's lashes lower. She stares at her fingers. Then her gaze finds mine again, slow and deliberate. "I have a quick question that can't wait until my next session. Could I speak to you privately, please?" She pins doe eyes on me.
I freeze.
It's a trap.
Don't go.
Seraphina shifts in her seat.
"It's best to discuss things in our sessions," I assert.
She blinks hard, then takes a shaky breath. "It's about...well, you know." She swallows hard and slides her hand over the arm she cut.
Panic hits me.
She's manipulating me.
What if she's not?
"I guess I'll text you later if you don't have a few minutes right now," she adds.
Seraphina's glare intensifies.
My heart thuds hard against my chest cavity. I rise and tell Seraphina, "Excuse me for one moment." I grab Blue by the arm and steer her toward the bathrooms, past them, and into the dark corner. I pin her into it and demand, "What's going on?"
"Is that your girlfriend?" Hurt flares on her expression.
"No. It's—" I stop, then a bit of anger comes out. "My personal life isn't your business."
She grips my shirt where it opens, her nail grazing my chest and torturing the restraint I'm working so hard to keep. Her breath hits my neck, and her tone turns coy. "I keep thinking about our session."
I swallow hard. My voice comes out rough. "What about it?"
"I...I keep running my hand over my thigh. I press the bruise, feeling the ache," she states, her breath turning shallow.
The air thickens between us, charged in a way that rakes down my spine.
Blue's nails graze my chest again, slow and intentional.
She rises onto her toes, her breath sliding across my jaw, and whispers, "I shouldn't have worn those panties in your office.
I kept thinking if you told me to spread my legs, I—"
"Stop," my voice scrapes out, raw enough to cut. "Blue, enough."
Her lips tremble, but the glint in her eyes says she's nowhere near stopping. She continues, "You didn't answer me earlier. Do you know how to touch a woman until she—"
"Jesus Christ." My hand hits the wall beside her head. "I said stop."
She breathes, "I can't. Not when you're—"
"Red?" Seraphina's voice whips through the corridor like a blade.
Blue goes still beneath my hand. Her eyes widen, not with guilt but with the glittering thrill of being caught in a trap she laid for both of us.
I turn.
Seraphina stands several feet away, framed by candlelight from the dining room. Her expression reeks of betrayal sharpened to a lethal edge. Her gaze drops to where my arm cages Blue against the wall, then shifts to Blue's fingers clutching my shirt. She glares at me. "Client, my ass."
Blue shifts.
Seraphina's head jerks backward. "My God. You're enjoying this."
"Seraphina, go back to the table," I order, pushing away from Blue. "This isn't what you think."
She sarcastically laughs. "I think it's exactly what I'm seeing." She turns on her heel.
"Seraphina!" I call after her.
She pushes through the crowd with lightning speed and steps outside.
I catch her halfway down the block. I grab her arm. "Seraphina, wait!"
She spins, livid. "That wasn't a therapist and his patient. Don't act like I'm stupid, Red!"
"You're wrong," I claim, but it sounds weak.
She shakes out of my grip, and announces, "We're done, Red." She walks away, never once looking back.
I stand there, pulse hammering, breath uneven, trying to pull myself back into the body that seems determined to work against every rule I've ever followed.
My cell vibrates. I pull it out of my pocket.
Unknown number: It's Blue. I didn't mean to ruin your date.
I glance back toward the restaurant. Through the window, she stares at me with a mix of satisfaction and longing.
My anger mixes with desire I can't contain. Everything becomes clear.
I'm not just losing control.
I've already lost it.