Read Online Fighting for Control (Against the Cage Book 3) by Melynda Price - Free Book Online
Authors: Melynda Price
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Nothing . . .” she stammered, wondering if she sounded as guilty as she felt. “I’m waiting for you to answer my question,” she finished primly, turning the focus of conversation back on him, which was exactly where it should be. But he wasn’t so easily manipulated.
“How do you expect me to trust you with my secrets if you’re going to sit there and lie to me?”
There was no anger in his voice—no emotion at all, actually—which sent a shiver of goose bumps up her arms. How could he sit there and remain so unaffected?
“I’m not ly—”
But before she could get the denial past her lips, he cut her off. “You forget that I’ve seen that look in your eyes before, Clover. That hot flush in your cheeks . . . Admit it, you were thinking about it.”
“Thinking about what?” Maybe playing dumb wasn’t the smartest move here. She had a master’s degree in psychology, for crissake. Surely she could come up with something a little more clever than feigning ignorance. And she should have known Nikko wouldn’t let her get away with it. He didn’t exactly strike her as the type to shy away from confrontation or an uncomfortable conversation.
Looking at her boldly and unapologetically, his voice held all the emotion of a rock when he said, “The same thing I’ve been thinking about every fucking day since I stepped off that plane.”
His words slammed into her with the force of a freight train. Her heart rioted inside her chest, her breath freezing in her lungs. He did not just go there . . . Oh, but he did. Before she could respond—and honestly, she had no idea what the hell she was going to say—Pen’s voice came over the intercom. “Dr. Summers, your next appointment is here. Should I let him in?”
Vi glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. Shit, where had the time gone? Nikko’s appointment should have ended almost an hour ago. She’d worked right through her lunch. She reached for the intercom button to tell Pen she needed another minute. Pen obviously didn’t know Nikko was still in the office with her. A patient, she corrected herself—she was still with Jim’s patient.
“Just a minute, Penelope.”
As she spoke into the small silver box, Nikko scooted his chair away from her desk and stood. She tried not to notice how large he was, or how a man his size could move with such lithe grace as he headed toward the door. She wanted to stop him, to say . . . something, but the words caught in her throat. He needed to leave; even if she didn’t have another patient waiting for her, it was time for Mr. Del Toro to go.
He reached for the door and paused. Then, seeming to decide on something, he looked back at her. Something flashed in his eyes, but it was gone before she could interpret it. “My sanity,” he said simply.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s what I fight for.”
And with that parting answer, Nikko walked out the door.
T he following hour dragged at a snail’s pace. Repeatedly, Vi had to pull her focus back to her patient. Thankfully, Bob Miller didn’t seem to notice that her mind was somewhere else. Self-absorbed in his own OCD, he was content to talk the hour away, just happy to have someone listening to him prattle on. But try as she might to remain on task, she couldn’t help revisiting the significance of Nikko’s parting statement.
It had been her first breakthrough with him, the first crack in his steel-plated armor, and his progress wasn’t lost on her. Nor could she deny the victory felt more personal than it should. Mistake number one: becoming emotionally invested in a patient. Mistake number two: fantasizing about having sex with said patient—even if he hadn’t been her patient at the time. She’d been nothing more than a heartbroken woman trying to start a new life, and he’d been nothing more than a hot stranger on a plane.
What were the chances karma would bring them back together again? Knowing her luck?—pretty damn good. It was just like
“How do you expect me to trust you with my secrets if you’re going to sit there and lie to me?”
There was no anger in his voice—no emotion at all, actually—which sent a shiver of goose bumps up her arms. How could he sit there and remain so unaffected?
“I’m not ly—”
But before she could get the denial past her lips, he cut her off. “You forget that I’ve seen that look in your eyes before, Clover. That hot flush in your cheeks . . . Admit it, you were thinking about it.”
“Thinking about what?” Maybe playing dumb wasn’t the smartest move here. She had a master’s degree in psychology, for crissake. Surely she could come up with something a little more clever than feigning ignorance. And she should have known Nikko wouldn’t let her get away with it. He didn’t exactly strike her as the type to shy away from confrontation or an uncomfortable conversation.
Looking at her boldly and unapologetically, his voice held all the emotion of a rock when he said, “The same thing I’ve been thinking about every fucking day since I stepped off that plane.”
His words slammed into her with the force of a freight train. Her heart rioted inside her chest, her breath freezing in her lungs. He did not just go there . . . Oh, but he did. Before she could respond—and honestly, she had no idea what the hell she was going to say—Pen’s voice came over the intercom. “Dr. Summers, your next appointment is here. Should I let him in?”
Vi glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. Shit, where had the time gone? Nikko’s appointment should have ended almost an hour ago. She’d worked right through her lunch. She reached for the intercom button to tell Pen she needed another minute. Pen obviously didn’t know Nikko was still in the office with her. A patient, she corrected herself—she was still with Jim’s patient.
“Just a minute, Penelope.”
As she spoke into the small silver box, Nikko scooted his chair away from her desk and stood. She tried not to notice how large he was, or how a man his size could move with such lithe grace as he headed toward the door. She wanted to stop him, to say . . . something, but the words caught in her throat. He needed to leave; even if she didn’t have another patient waiting for her, it was time for Mr. Del Toro to go.
He reached for the door and paused. Then, seeming to decide on something, he looked back at her. Something flashed in his eyes, but it was gone before she could interpret it. “My sanity,” he said simply.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s what I fight for.”
And with that parting answer, Nikko walked out the door.
T he following hour dragged at a snail’s pace. Repeatedly, Vi had to pull her focus back to her patient. Thankfully, Bob Miller didn’t seem to notice that her mind was somewhere else. Self-absorbed in his own OCD, he was content to talk the hour away, just happy to have someone listening to him prattle on. But try as she might to remain on task, she couldn’t help revisiting the significance of Nikko’s parting statement.
It had been her first breakthrough with him, the first crack in his steel-plated armor, and his progress wasn’t lost on her. Nor could she deny the victory felt more personal than it should. Mistake number one: becoming emotionally invested in a patient. Mistake number two: fantasizing about having sex with said patient—even if he hadn’t been her patient at the time. She’d been nothing more than a heartbroken woman trying to start a new life, and he’d been nothing more than a hot stranger on a plane.
What were the chances karma would bring them back together again? Knowing her luck?—pretty damn good. It was just like
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