Page 109 of Vicious Behaviors
Her brows knit as she studies me. “Are you considering including DID in your thesis, or is your curiosity based on personal experience?” When I don’t say anything, she quickly realizes it’s the latter. “I see.” She nods knowingly. “From what Professor Burns has told me and this small interaction we’re having, I can tell that you’re a very astute and bright young woman. However, DID cases need psychiatric assistance. No matter how much you read or learn on the subject, it won’t bemuch help if the person in question doesn’t seek professional aid.”
“What if the person can’t seek help?”
“If money is a concern—”
“It’s not about the money,” I interrupt. “They just… can’t. Their… um… profession would never allow them to seek psychiatric help.”
Her expression turns sullen as she places her hand on my shoulder and gives it a light squeeze. “I’m sorry to hear that. But if that ever changes, I’m more than happy to refer your friend to a specialized clinic that deals with DID patients. They don’t have to live with this condition alone.”
“He’s not alone,” I defend.
“No,” she smiles. “I can see thathe’snot. But I offer you my assistance, nonetheless. DID isn’t only hard on the patient. It’s also difficult for everyone around him, especially those who love and care for him. Most people give up altogether, finding it too painful a situation to live through.”
“That’s not me. I won’t give up on him. He needs me. There must be a way for me to help him,” I whisper, feeling a lump rise in my throat. “I have to find a way.”
She looks deep into my eyes and offers me a commiserating smile.
“If his employment is the only impediment for him to seek out help, then maybe we can work around that,” she offers. “Whenever your friend is ready, my door is open. To you and to him.”
“Thank you, Professor.” I let out an exhale, unaware that I was holding my breath the entire time. “I might take you up on that offer.”
“For your friend’s sake, I hope you do.”
I’m on my back on the yoga mat, doing some crunches, when a blonde shadow eclipses everything else in the gym.
“Hi,” I smile when I see two familiar, light-blue eyes staring at me.
Marcello stands over me as he takes off his jacket and throws it to the ground, followed by his T-shirt. Then, with the grace of an Olympic gymnast, he presses his palms flat on either side of my head and flings the rest of his body straight into the air.
“Hi,” he says finally, doing push-ups with his hands until his lips meet mine.
I can’t help but giggle as every time his head comes down, his lips crash onto mine.
“Stop showing off,” I laugh.
“You think this is showing off?” he teases and then proceeds to pull his whole body up and down with only one hand. “Thisis showing off.” He winks.
I bite my bottom lip because I can’t help but be in awe—and, well, a little turned on—by how strong he is.
But then, I guess he has to be when he spends most of his time either in the gym or dealing with the Outfit’s enemies. It’s that realization that throws a cold bucket of ice on my libido. Marcello sees my changing mood instantly and jumps back on his feet with the grace of a cat.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his brows pinching closer together as he watches me getting up from the yoga mat and starting to pack it up.
“Nothing.”
“That’s not very convincing,” he says, hugging me from behind. He then places his chin on my shoulder and presses a kiss to the crook of my neck. I hate how my whole body instantly ignites, as if one touch could flick awake a dormant volcano in me.
“I said I’m fine.”
To this, he chuckles, and God help me, his laugh sends shivers through my insides. Marcello isn’t the kind of man who smiles, much less laughs, so any time he does, I swoon like a schoolgirl with a crush.
“One thing I’ve learned from living with my mother and sisters is that when a woman says she’s fine, she is anything but.” He then turns me around in one swift motion until my chest is pressed against his, his hands now firmly placed on my hips. He leans into me and whispers in my ear, “I think I know how to turn that frown upside down.”
Doubtful. Can he not be the heir apparent to the Chicago syndicate? Because that’s the only way I’ll ever truly smile again. Screwing the man I’m trying to build a case against wasn’t exactly smart. But falling for him? The way I feel my heart do every time we’re together? Well, that’s just plain stupid.
Still, it isn’t even his role in the Outfit that I have a hard time dealing with. It’s the fact that we still haven’t had one honest discussion about his disorder. If we’re still playing pretend that everything is fine, how will I ever be able to persuade him to seek the professional help Professor Montgomery is offering?
“Hey?” he says, lifting my chin so I can stare into his eyes. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
