Page 31 of In Death, Love Survives
“You believe in therapy and all that bullshit?”
“My profession is notbullshit.”
Wolfe stills mid-puff.
He nods as he finishes the drag and pulls the cigarette to the side.
“That’s fair. Why don’t you give it a try on me?”
I readjust in my seat as I try to assess how to handle this situation.
“Sometimes, simply talking to someone who is unbiased can help a person express how they really feel. I’m not here to judge you. We also offer group sessions that could be helpful.”
Wolfe thoughtfully takes in what I’m saying, more than I assumed he would, despite his sudden interest in me.
“The smoking bothers you,” he finally says.
“It does.”
“Then why did you allow it?”
“Because you’re my patient. If it helps you in this scenario, then I don’t mind.”
Another thoughtful pause.
“If we weren’t in this scenario?” he says while gesturing between us with the cigarette in hand.
“I’m not here to talk to you about my personal life any more than I already have, Mr. Walker.”
Wolfe smirks, and that wetness starts to pool even more in my panties. He puts the cigarette out on my desk and leans back in a relaxed position.
“It’s Wolfe, remember?”
We’re at a standstill.
“I’ll tell you something if you tell me something back,” he finally offers.
“That’s not how this works.”
“That’s how it’ll have to work with me.”
“Okay,” I relent.
Looking at the table now covered in ash, I reach for my pen and still.
“The recorder,” I mumble as I reach for it.
“Leave it off.”
My eyes snap up to his with my hand on it.
“There’s a camera on us,” I say.
I can’t just pretend like I didn’t realize it was off.
“Act like you’re turning it on and continue without it.”
Wolfe studies me as I debate what to do.
