Page 2 of Until She's Mine
“Sometimes it’s easier to let him think he’s won.”
She looks down at her notepad and writes in quick, sharp strokes—narcissistic tendencies, lack of remorse, possible antisocial traits.
She is trying to box me into a diagnosis, to pin me down with clinical terms that will make her feel like she’s accomplished something. It’s almost amusing, watching her try to maintain control in a room where she has none.
“How long have you been...preoccupied?”
“Three years.”
“Since before their engagement,” she murmurs.
My younger brother’s engagement announcement was big news among Manhattan’s elite. Tobias, ever the golden boy, had secured the perfect match—Evelyn Laurent, the beautiful and brilliant art conservator who seemed to embody everything the Blackwood dynasty could want in a daughter-in-law. Except for her pedigree and lack of connections, that is, but those details only added to the idea of their love story.
“Yes, about three months before my brother even noticed her. She was sketching on the stairs of NYU when I first saw her. Wore a gray sweater with paint stains on the sleeves. Tobias didn’t even glance her way. He was too busy preening for some high-society girl who wouldn’t remember his name the next day. But I couldn’t look away.”
Dr. Whitmore writes this down, too.
Enough fun for today,a cautious part of me whispers.
“Do you have a plan?” she asks.
“I always have a plan.” My fingers drum three times on the armrest before I stand, signaling the end of our session.
“We’re not finished,” she protests. “It’s only been 20 minutes.”
I’m already at the door when I pause, looking over my shoulder with a smile. “Next week, Doctor. Don’t forget to mark my attendance.”
Three more sessions, and I’ll have fulfilled my obligation.
The hallway outside is empty; the only sound is the faint hum of the building’s air conditioning. My polished Oxfords are silent on the industrial gray carpet.
The receptionist glances up as I pass, her smile faltering when I don’t return it. She’s new—I can tell by the way she fumbles with her pen, unsure of how to handle my presence. I don’t slow down and step into the elevator.
As it descends, I check my phone. There are two new messages from my investigator:
Tobias missed another meeting. At the racetrack again.
Evelyn left work late. Headed to her apartment alone.
I slip the phone back into my pocket, my fingers brushing against the small velvet box inside. The engagement ring I purchased a few hours ago: a flawless emerald surrounded by diamonds, nothing like the gaudy monstrosity Tobias chose. This one is elegant. Timeless.Worthy of her.
The elevator doors open to the parking garage. My driver stands ready beside the town car, but I wave him off. I’ll walk today. The crisp spring air will help me think.
When I step onto the sidewalk, my phone vibrates again. A notification from the tracking app:
Evelyn Laurent’s Location: Home
I allow myself one last look at the therapist’s building before turning downtown.
Dr. Whitmore can write her notes. Father can think that his mandatory sessions are working. My brother can continue his slow self-destruction.
The game is already in motion.
And I never lose.
Chapter 2
Lucian
