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  I saved enough money for a down payment on my condo, and everything I have furnished it with since. So to me the little luxuries, like my favorite honeysuckle bath products, weren’t taken for granted because they were a reminder of the struggle I went through to get to where I was today.

  After rinsing off, I made my way down the hall to my bedroom. A normal person’s closet might contain things like dress suits, several pairs of jeans and some cute tops. My closet was full of lingerie, and not just any lingerie, but the high-quality shit that I had to fuck five men for in order to afford. I picked my favorite red lace bra and garter from the hanger where they hung pristinely in my closet, made my way over to my bed and laid it down before I padded over to my dresser and produced a pair of red silk stockings that matched. Using a towel, I dried my hair and sat on my bed with my honeysuckle lotion and began to smooth the creamy concoction on my tanned skin.

  The scent was soothing to me—giving me a sexy feel when I had to perform some not-so-sexy acts with some not-so-sexy clients. When the lotion was absorbed into my skin, I rolled the stockings up my legs to where they came to rest mid-thigh. Reaching over, I grabbed the lingerie and got dressed, adjusting my breasts in the cup of my bra to where they looked their perkiest. Alexandra said this client was important, and I had never been one to disappoint, but I was also intrigued by the anonymity he required. Was he some dirty rich man who tried to hide his extra-marital activities from his wife? Or was he some lonely old widow looking for a one-night companion?

  Who gives a shit? It's four grand.

  My phone beeped in my purse, and I retrieved it to find a text from my agent.

  Lexie: Car will be there in 15. Don’t be late. This client is big on promptness.

  I rolled my eyes and threw the phone back into my purse. If this guy wanted an escort so badly, he could wait. I proceeded back down the hall to the bathroom where I blew out my towel-dried hair until it settled softly down to my mid-back. After applying a few finishing touches with the flat iron, I went to work creating a dark smoky eye and paired it off with a dark red lip that matched the color of my lingerie.

  There was a knock on my condo door just as I slipped the black form fitting dress I chose into place and grabbed my purse from the kitchen island. Opening the door as I grabbed my dark trench coat, I was greeted by a gorgeous looking man dressed in a solid black suit with matching solid black tie and chauffeur hat. My eyes raked over the late twenty-something man and knew he couldn’t be any older than I was. His broad shoulders and narrow waist made the black suit he wore fit his body perfectly. Dark, soft curls fell just above his brows and matched the small amount of scruff that graced his face. He was tall, possibly well over six feet as he towered over me even in my Louboutin heels. I admired his pert nose and strong jaw and smiled in appreciative delight at the deliciousness of the man that stood in front of me.

  “Miss Lane?” He questioned as he bowed slightly in my direction.

  “Ah, uh, yes. That’s me,” I stammered.

  What the fuck? That has never happened before. Of course, it wasn’t every day that a sexy as fuck man showed up at my door to pick me up either.

  “I’m here to escort you to your destination,” he extended an arm to me and I nodded, looping my arm through his and followed him out of the door. We turned so I could secure the lock with my key and then I proceeded to follow him down the corridor to the elevators. Heat from his body radiated through the suit he wore, causing a rise in my own body temperature. That was what I craved. Feelings. Pleasure being one of the only things that I was able to experience on a normal, everyday basis, quickly became my addiction.

  We exited the elevator and made our way outside into the freezing night air. I hugged my coat tighter around my body, and the man led me to the sleek, black car that waited at the curb. Releasing my arm to open the door, he guided me in, making sure I was comfortable before rounding it to get into the driver’s seat.

  “Where are we going?” I asked as I removed my purse from my shoulder and sat it on the seat next to me. It was then that I noticed the blindfold sitting there. I picked it up, letting the silky material slide across one hand.

  “I’m not allowed to tell you, Miss Lane. I’m afraid that is a matter of discretion. Also, if you could place the blindfold over your eyes, I can begin to proceed to your intended destination.”

  “Of course,” I replied, obeying his request as I put the blindfold in place. Securing it with a knot at the back of my head, I informed the driver it was okay to leave.

  Someone was going through a lot of trouble to not let anyone know what he was about to do. He must be someone important, someone in the public eye, or someone very, very rich. I shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t care who the fuck he was. The only thing I cared about was the four grand I was going to walk away with tonight.

  “ANDRIS, I NEED YOU to be sure that you are completely prepared to take over the task of running the clinic,” my uncle told me for the tenth time in the last half hour. Gunn and Associates was one of the most prestigious and desired therapy clinics in Manhattan. Built by my grandfather from the ground up after he graduated from medical school, it quickly became one of the most sought out therapy clinics in greater New York. Our clients ranged from New York socialites to celebrities and real estate moguls. My uncle took over the practice when my grandfather retired over fifteen years ago, after nearly thirty years as a practicing psychiatrist. My uncle, Robert Gunn, had been running it since. That is, until next week when I would be taking over.

  I graduated medical school four years ago and didn’t think twice about going to work at Gunn and Associates. In fact, it was damn near expected of me from the time I was in diapers. My own father would have been the predecessor had he not died of a heart attack more than eight years prior, leaving me the next in line to control the Gunn throne. We had a few other practicing psychologists and psychiatrists employed at the clinic that weren’t family, yet they were equally qualified for the job, but it was a family tradition that was not wavered from. A Gunn must be in control.

  Most days my job was very rewarding, being able to help people who struggled with real mental disabilities, but there were times I wanted to throw my hands up and say what the fuck to those rich housewives who only saw me to get a refill on their Xanax prescriptions.

  “Bobbie, we have been over this countless times. I’m ready. I’ve been bred to do this since birth. You of all people should know that.”

  “Yes, well, this isn’t just a fucking walk in the park, Andris.”

  I rolled my eyes in frustration. My uncle was the demanding and controlling type, very much like my father and my grandfather. They often stayed at the clinic for hours after closing to pour over cases and required all the other associates and staff to do so as well, stating they weren’t asking them to do anymore than what they were doing themselves. That is how I became a workaholic, never able to leave work at work when I got home. I would stay up for hours upon hours letting case situations run through my mind to the point that I probably needed therapy for myself.

  “I understand that, Bobbie. I won’t let you, grandfather, or my own father down.”

  “You also understand the consequences if this clinic fails, correct?” He asked, boring his nearly seventy-year-old eyes at me. I had looked up to this man at one time in my life, but after discovering the “secret involvement” that he had gotten not only our clinic, but our family into as well, I no longer viewed him as the once hero of my childhood. I wanted it to be my mission to get out from this involvement and rectify the situation that we were in, but I had no clue how to get there. It wasn’t something I could do overnight, but instead needed to proceed into with caution, if I wanted to get out of it alive.

  He nodded his silver, combed-over head at me and clapped me on one shoulder with the cup of his hand.

  “Good. I have worked hard to provide for the lifestyle of this family, and I expect, they expect, for you to carry on with it.”
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  My uncle walked out of my office, shutting the door behind him. This time next week, the clinic would officially and legally be signed over to me. There was nothing they could do to stop me from getting out of our ‘situation’.

  “Dr. Gunn? Your three-thirty is here,” the receptionist said through the speaker on my phone.

  “Thank you, Laura Lee. I’ll be right out.”

  I picked up the file on my desk and looked at it to study my next patient.

  Female.

  Thirty-four.

  Chronic depression.

  Great. Another fucking socialite looking for her fix with nothing better to do than toss back a few downers in order to not have to experience her own reality. She was a former patient of my uncle’s. He insisted that I take the case and not give it to one of the other doctors or therapists in the practice.

  I closed the folder and rested my head on my fists momentarily as I allowed my doctoral mask to fall into place. I was nothing if not professional in my practice of therapy and medicine. My personal life was a different story, but here, I was respected. It was a high like no other, not being looked down upon by your peers, but admired for your hard work and your achievements. I could blame my asshole father for that desire. With him, I never felt like I was good enough. Bringing home all A’s in high school and college didn’t count unless I did the extra credit to get over the one hundred percent mark. My father pushed me to strive for excellence, to be the best of the best, and I found that I was constantly trying to earn his praise or approval.

  Getting up from the chair, I walked to my office door and down the corridor to the waiting room. When I opened the door, I noticed that there were several patients waiting, but only one of them matched the description of my next appointment. She sat with one of her elegant legs crossed over the other, enough that her pencil skirt rose up to meet her mid-thigh. She was tanned, not one of the natural varieties, but the spa bought version. Her dark brunette hair was perfectly coifed into a chignon at the back of her head that left the creamy flesh of her neck exposed to admire.

  I watched her for several moments as she flipped through the pages of a fashion magazine that she held in her hands. I tried to imagine what she was thinking about as she looked at the glossy pictures of perfectly thin and airbrushed women. She probably wanted to know how much it would set her husband back to do the procedure, so that she could look like those fake women.

  I focused in on her face and noticed that her makeup was immaculate, not a lash or color out of place. The contours of her cheekbones were perfectly manicured by high dollar beauty products as she continued to stare at the pages.

  As if some unspoken words had passed between us, she turned her head, and her striking gray eyes settled on mine. Smiling at me with perfect teeth, she closed the magazine and reached for the familiar Louis Vuitton bag nestled in the chair beside her.

  “Mrs. Cardinelli?” I asked as she rose to her feet, long legs peeking out from the black skirt that accentuated her limbs, all the way down to the also familiar black and red high priced shoes.

  “Yes,” she replied with the elegant grace of a debutant.

  “Right this way, please,” I said, gesturing for her to come through the door and pointing down the hallway towards my office.

  “Third office on the right,” I directed, allowing her to walk in front of me. I got the full view of her perfectly rounded, and probably liposucked, ass as she swayed her hips seductively with each step. The violet blouse she wore was sheer enough to provide a small preview of the black lace bra that lay beneath the soft fabric.

  Once we entered my office, I instructed her to have a seat in one of the plush chairs that faced my desk as I rounded it to take a seat in my familiar leather chair. Flipping open her folder once more, I reached for my pad of paper and a pen to take notes of the session.

  “You are younger than I had originally pictured,” she stated nonchalantly as she placed her purse on the floor at her feet. As she bent over, I couldn’t help but notice the soft mounds of her cleavage that peeked out from the unbuttoned top of her shirt. A gold charm graced her slender neck, held on by a small gold chain. It was a crest of sorts, possibly familial or of something of significance towards her judging by the way she placed a small, delicate hand to her chest and played with the metal trinket at the base of her throat.

  “Your uncle never told me.”

  “Is that a problem for you, Mrs. Cardinelli? I assure you that I am just as qualified, if not more so, than my uncle to provide your care. But if you prefer to see one of the other practitioners in the clinic, I can make arrangements.”

  She seemed a bit put off by the small amount of sternness in my voice, but quickly recovered with a sweet smile that could have brought any normal person to their knees.

  “No, there is no issue. Just a little bit surprising.”

  I cleared my throat, clicking the tip of my pen over and over thinking about what my first move with this woman would be. She was obviously born and bred in the limelight, or she was trained to be the perfect embodiment of what a perfect housewife would entail. She had a hint of intelligence about her, as she sat up straight and placed her hands in her lap, ever the Stepford model of perfection. I wasn’t going to lie, the woman was fucking sexy as hell, walking sin, and possibly more trouble than she was worth.

  “So, Mrs. Cardinelli, I have read your file and it says here that you suffer from depression. What makes you feel that way?”

  She tapped a perfectly manicured nail against the full, pouty, ruby red seam of her lips, contemplating my question. Her top teeth came out to bite the flesh of her lower one, letting the skin roll between them and then letting it go. It was a seductive move, something that made my cock twitch in my pants. My eyes darkened as I continued to watch her; the knowledge that she knew what she was doing didn’t pass far from my mind.

  “Well, Dr. Gunn,”

  “Andris. Call me Andris.”

  “Well, Andris…” she started, letting my name roll along the tip of her tongue like warm liquid as she drew out each letter in a soft purr of her vocal chords, “My husband is a very demanded man. He often works very long hours. We have no children. I live in a fully staffed fourteen bedroom mansion, but I have never felt more alone in my life. There are only so many charity functions and galas I can attend before I start to lose my fucking mind. Having to put on a fake smile before all of the catty, gossip spreading women that run in my circles becomes tiresome and downright undesirable.”

  “So you are falling into bits of depression because you feel like you are alone?”

  She stared at me out of the corner of her eye, watching my reaction and assessing her next choice of words.

  “It is my husband’s requirement that I come here, Andris. He doesn’t like me to be unhappy, and in return, he gets what he wants.”

  I looked down at her file once more.

  Spouse: Antonio Cardinelli.

  Now it fucking clicked, I sighed in frustration. No wonder my uncle insisted that I take this specific client on personally.

  “I take it you just put two and two together, Doctor.”

  Fucking great. The Stepford housewife in front of me was the wife of the man that my uncle got the family and the clinic involved with. He was also the man that I was determined to get away from.

  “I guess you could say that.”

  She rose from her seat and walked over to the shelf that aligned one wall of my office and housed a majority of books, novels, and research intended documents. Brushing her hands on the leather bound rows of printed work, she paused when she pulled one out and opened up the binding.

  “And you also must know that there are certain…arrangements between our families?” She asked, pausing to look over at me before snapping the book shut and not batting an eyelash.

  “I’m well aware of the arrangements, yes.”

  She walked over, the stealthiness of a jaguar in her pristine steps as she rounded my desk an
d sat her perfectly rounded ass on the edge, and crossed her legs in front of me. Her black skirt slid up the creamy space of her thighs as she settled one hand on the hard, smooth wood of my antique desk and lifted the other to adjust the tie at the base of my neck. Picking up the silk fabric, she allowed it to slide trough her fingers before letting it come to rest on my chest once more.

  “So, you realize all this psychobabble bullshit is unnecessary? I don’t need you to analyze me, Doctor. I just need you to give me what I came for.”

  She brought a delicate hand up to hold my chin as she pulled at my lip with the pad of her thumb and allowed her nail to lightly scratch the skin. She smiled, grinning slyly from ear to ear before she turned my head sideways and leaned in to whisper into my ear.

  “I’m glad you understand the circumstances between us. I think I am really going to enjoy our sessions together.”

  Her warm breath passed my ear, causing a small shiver to course through my body. My dick sprang to life as she used the very tip of her tongue to trace the sensitive flesh of my earlobe.

  “Mmm. I am so very glad you are replacing your uncle. Fucking him was becoming a bore, but you? I think I will rather enjoy this. Now write me what I need, get me the package, and I’ll be on my way.”

  She pulled away from me and rounded the desk to retrieve her purse. I once again clicked open my pen and wrote out her demand on the prescription pad sitting in front of me. It went against every moral bone in my body to do what I was about to do, but I had no choice. Antonio Cardinelli was not a man to fuck with, and apparently neither was his young wife.