Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
“They need to be put back in place.”
“Don’t say anything to Maxime. It’ll only make the situation worse.”
He regards me stoically.
“Please, Benoit. Don’t make this harder for me than what it already is.”
Still no answer.
I can’t delay much longer without being late for class. Taking a shortcut over the grass, I head for my building.
Chapter 12
Maxime
The last time I visited Dr. Delphine Bisset was before my trip to South Africa. She’s a good shrink. I’m not the self-searching or inwardly reflecting kind, but she helped me understand shitloads about myself, which, believe it or not, is imperative in my business. You can’t know your enemies if you don’t know yourself. Delphine is the only one with the balls to be honest with me. The psychiatrist I tried before her told me whatever I wanted to hear. I guess he was worried I’d shoot him.
Pushing the door to her uptown consultation room open, I walk to the receptionist’s desk. I’m alone. My guards don’t tag along for this. My visits to the shrink are something I prefer to keep private. My enemies may take it for a weakness.
The girl looks up. Her easy smile vanishes. “Good morning, sir.” Her hand is already on the phone. “Dr. Bisset is with a patient, but I’ll let her know you’re here.”
I give her a polite nod and take a seat among the other waiting patients. Five minutes later, the door to the office opens and a young man exits in front of Delphine.
“Max.” She offers me a warm smile and beckons me with a wave.
The other patients glare at me when I stand. I don’t have an appointment.
Ignoring their nasty looks, Delphine shuts the door and shakes my hand. “It’s been a while.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Naturally,” she says with wit. “Crime will do that to you.” Walking to the informal sitting area, she motions for me to take a seat. “What brings you today?”
I sit down in one of the armchairs and adjust my jacket. “A woman.”
“Ah.” She takes the seat opposite me and crosses her legs. “You mean one you’ve seen more than twice?”
“Six months, actually.”
She tilts her head. “Very out of character for you. What makes this one different?”
“She’s innocent. Pure. I suppose you could say she’s naïve.”
Folding her hands, she studies me. “You’re attracted to these innocent traits?”
“Naturally,” I say, quoting her earlier remark. “Opposites attract and all that.”
Her smile is eloquent. “Why?”
“She’s everything I’m not. I’d say that’s obvious.”
“How is this a problem for you?” she asks in her smooth voice.
Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and tip my fingers together. I give her a long look as I weigh my words. Their heaviness bears down right in the center of my chest. “Am I capable of love, Doctor?”
“Max.” She blows out a short sigh. It’s a soft sound laced with compassion. “In order to love, you need to have empathy.”
“Whenever I’m the cause of her pain, I hurt myself worse than what she’s hurting.”
“You’re inflicting pain on yourself?”
“Yes.”
“As punishment?”
“As a reminder.”
“To have empathy?”
“Yes.”
“Physical pain doesn’t replace compassion, Max. Compassion comes from the heart.”
“That’s the thing. She makes me feel.” I press a palm over my chest where the dead skin crawls from the mere thought of her. “She makes me feel things.”
“Define things.”
“Fear. Fucking loads of it. Weakness. She makes me care.”
“Can you put her first, above your own needs?”
I consider that. Putting Zoe first will mean doing what’s best for her and what she wants—to let her go. Only, I can’t do that, and it has nothing to do with her brother’s diamonds. I’ll never set her free. She’s mine. Mine. I fucking claimed her. I took her virginity. I came inside her. No, I’m afraid letting her go has and will never be an option. Tilting my head back, I scrub a hand over my face.
“Do you manipulate her, Max?”
I look back at the doctor. “For her own good.”
“Do you lie to her?”
“When I must.”
“Do you feel shame or remorse for your lies and manipulations?”
“No.”
Her small smile is sad, conveying a wordless message.
“Yeah, yeah.” I rake my fingers through my hair. “I’m still the pathologically lying, manipulative, coldhearted prick with the versatile criminal behavior and lack of moral judgment.”
“And high intelligence,” she adds, “not to mention ruthlessness.”
“That’s supposed to help me?”
She leans her arms on her knees. “You’re the most ruthless person I know, meaning you’re willing to take risks. Are you willing to take a risk for her and step out of your comfort zone? You’re also a clever man, a man who knows how his behavior impacts others, even if you don’t feel guilty about it. You want to do better. That’s why you sought me out for starters.”
“Even if I do better, I’ll still be the fucking psychopath incapable of love.”
“You suffer from emotional detachment, but feeling something is a beginning. We can work with that.”