Read Online Fighting for Control (Against the Cage Book 3) by Melynda Price - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Melynda Price
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that bitch to tempt her to risk everything she believed in and walk down the dark, tangled road that was Nikko Del Toro. She could rationalize this shit all day long. If she hadn’t already met him . . . If the sex hadn’t been so mind-blowingly incredible . . . Bottom line, the moment the CFA hired her to become Nikko’s therapist, he became off-limits, and this . . . attraction was wrong. Black was black and white was white. Unfortunately, Nikko’s world was nothing but gray.
“—don’t know. Or do you think I’m just being crazy?”
What? Knowing Bob, the answer was most assuredly yes. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t heard the question.
“Bob,” she gently scolded, wracking her brain as she tried to remember what he’d just said. “You know we don’t say the C word here.”
“I know, but I can’t stop thinking about her.”
If that was the bar for crazy, then she was in trouble. Since the moment Nikko walked into her office, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. Hell, if she was being honest, she hadn’t stopped thinking about the man since he’d rocked her world in the bathroom of a freaking 747.
“Does she know how you feel about her? This woman?”
“Oh, no . . . I couldn’t tell her.”
“Why not?”
His gaze darted nervously to the floor. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way? I’m not sure how I’d handle that kind of rejection.” There was something in Bob’s eyes that put Vi on notice. Bob had a lot of issues. Along with OCD, he also struggled with addiction, rage, and impulse control.
Whoever had caught this guy’s attention would be wise to be careful. A man like this would easily misinterpret nice and polite for something more. He read into everything. She’d been treating him since she’d moved here, and in the beginning she’d had to set clear limits with him. She was good at boundary setting. She did it all the time, so why was she having such a hard time doing it with Nikko?
“Well . . . does this woman meet the ‘acceptable to date’ criteria we’ve discussed?” They had developed the checklist to help give him guidelines with which to self-govern. Perhaps she should take her own advice, because there was a sexy MMA fighter who would definitely not make the cut.
Before Bob could answer, the timer dinged, marking that their session was up. “I should go,” he said abruptly, jumping up from his chair so fast the thing scooted back. Shit . . . Well, there was her answer—nope. Vi scribbled a note in Bob’s file reminding her to press him about the identity of the woman at their next session. Love made sane people do crazy things, and lust was even more dangerous. She should know, because she was having one hell of a time not looking forward to seeing Nikko at his next appointment.
She was writing in Bob’s file when a knock sounded on her door. “Come in,” she called, not bothering to look up from her desk.
“Za’s. I have your lunch, ma’am.”
Vi glanced up. “What lunch?”
“The lunch you ordered?” he said, holding up the paper bag and checking the address. “Chicken Parmesan on a ciabatta roll.”
It was her favorite, but Vi hadn’t ordered it. Oh, well, Pen probably realized she hadn’t eaten when she’d seen Nikko leave and ordered her lunch. “Come on in.” Vi grabbed her purse from under the desk and began digging for her wallet.
“I don’t need any money, ma’am. The bill has already been covered.”
Really? “Tip, too?”
He nodded.
Wow, Pen must be in a generous mood. Now she felt even worse for snapping at her this morning. The delivery guy handed her the sack and left. Vi reached across the desk and pressed the intercom. “Thanks for lunch, Pen. You’re the best.”
“What lunch? I thought you ordered that.”
Vi’s pulse spiked, a niggling of unease working its way up her spine. If Pen didn’t order this, then who in the hell did? And more importantly, how did they know
“—don’t know. Or do you think I’m just being crazy?”
What? Knowing Bob, the answer was most assuredly yes. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t heard the question.
“Bob,” she gently scolded, wracking her brain as she tried to remember what he’d just said. “You know we don’t say the C word here.”
“I know, but I can’t stop thinking about her.”
If that was the bar for crazy, then she was in trouble. Since the moment Nikko walked into her office, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. Hell, if she was being honest, she hadn’t stopped thinking about the man since he’d rocked her world in the bathroom of a freaking 747.
“Does she know how you feel about her? This woman?”
“Oh, no . . . I couldn’t tell her.”
“Why not?”
His gaze darted nervously to the floor. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way? I’m not sure how I’d handle that kind of rejection.” There was something in Bob’s eyes that put Vi on notice. Bob had a lot of issues. Along with OCD, he also struggled with addiction, rage, and impulse control.
Whoever had caught this guy’s attention would be wise to be careful. A man like this would easily misinterpret nice and polite for something more. He read into everything. She’d been treating him since she’d moved here, and in the beginning she’d had to set clear limits with him. She was good at boundary setting. She did it all the time, so why was she having such a hard time doing it with Nikko?
“Well . . . does this woman meet the ‘acceptable to date’ criteria we’ve discussed?” They had developed the checklist to help give him guidelines with which to self-govern. Perhaps she should take her own advice, because there was a sexy MMA fighter who would definitely not make the cut.
Before Bob could answer, the timer dinged, marking that their session was up. “I should go,” he said abruptly, jumping up from his chair so fast the thing scooted back. Shit . . . Well, there was her answer—nope. Vi scribbled a note in Bob’s file reminding her to press him about the identity of the woman at their next session. Love made sane people do crazy things, and lust was even more dangerous. She should know, because she was having one hell of a time not looking forward to seeing Nikko at his next appointment.
She was writing in Bob’s file when a knock sounded on her door. “Come in,” she called, not bothering to look up from her desk.
“Za’s. I have your lunch, ma’am.”
Vi glanced up. “What lunch?”
“The lunch you ordered?” he said, holding up the paper bag and checking the address. “Chicken Parmesan on a ciabatta roll.”
It was her favorite, but Vi hadn’t ordered it. Oh, well, Pen probably realized she hadn’t eaten when she’d seen Nikko leave and ordered her lunch. “Come on in.” Vi grabbed her purse from under the desk and began digging for her wallet.
“I don’t need any money, ma’am. The bill has already been covered.”
Really? “Tip, too?”
He nodded.
Wow, Pen must be in a generous mood. Now she felt even worse for snapping at her this morning. The delivery guy handed her the sack and left. Vi reached across the desk and pressed the intercom. “Thanks for lunch, Pen. You’re the best.”
“What lunch? I thought you ordered that.”
Vi’s pulse spiked, a niggling of unease working its way up her spine. If Pen didn’t order this, then who in the hell did? And more importantly, how did they know
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