Page 16 of Follow Me
Chapter Five
Mal knew Niall and Doyle but didn’t know Doug from anything other than their phone sessions. So it was with some trepidation that she signed in at the reception desk and took a seat in the lobby to wait for him after filling out paperwork.
She knew he’d been a priest and was recently married to Connor, a friend of Doyle, Niall, Aden, and Etsu, among others. She also knew he’d been married to a woman before that, who’d died shortly after giving birth to their baby, so he was freshly familiar with grief.
She wasn’t sure what to expect when a man entered the lobby area and appeared to scan it. He was a little under six feet tall, with brown hair and the start of a beard and mustache, and grey eyes.
When his gaze landed on her, she knew it was him, even before he walked over to her while wearing a kind smile.
“Mallory?”
She nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
The few other people in the lobby wouldn’t know she meant it with a capitalS.
He held his right hand out to her. “Douglas Strickland. Nice to finally meet you in person.”
She nervously swallowed as she took his hand, unable to ignore her relief at how he gave her a normal handshake. “Nice to finally meet you, Dr. Strickland.”
“Follow me.”
Nervously, she stood and he led her down a corridor to an elevator. “Are you warm enough?” he asked while they waited for it.
There was no teasing or sarcasm when he asked it, but she was wearing two sweaters, well aware now how easily she got cold.
Before, she was usually the one sweating her ass off when everyone else was freezing, but that was one of the “blessings” of her new body, and one she hated.
“I’ll be okay.” She forced a smile. “The transition from outside to inside. I’ll warm up.”
She shivered—and not from the chill in the air—as he gave her “the look.”
It didn’t need a name other than that, because it seemed every damn Dominant she’d ever met in her life had some variation of “the look.”
“If I’m still cold in a little while, I’ll tell you, Sir,” she added.
He slowly nodded. The doors slid open and he indicated for her to go first. Once he’d pressed the button for their floor and the doors slid closed again, she relaxed.
“You can call me Doug, or Sir, whichever is more comfortable for you,” he said. “You don’t have to call me Doctor, if you don’t want to.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He tucked his hands into the pockets of his khakis. He wore a dress shirt and a tie, but his long sleeves were rolled up just under his elbows. A playful smile curved his lips. “And ‘Father Strickland’ is right out, I’m afraid, even though I do have other clients who are more comfortable calling me that, and who I allow to address me as such. Under ourspecial circumstances, one of the conditionsmySir has is that you aren’t allowed to call me ‘Father.’” Mirth sparkled in his eyes. “It would seem some people have a priest fetish. Imaginethat,” he drawled.
She couldn’t help it—she laughed, and it was the first time in as long as she could remember that she’d had a deep, hard belly laugh.
The doors slid open and he motioned for her to step forward. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked as he led her down the hallway.
“What?”
He opened an office door for her and held it. “Laughing like that.”
“Yeah. It does.”
“Well, let’s hope that’s a good sign, then.” He let the door swing closed behind them and pointed her at a sofa. “Let me tell Doyle and Niall you’re here, but we can get started while we’re waiting on them.”
She sat on the left end of the sofa, next to an end table holding a box of tissues, and where a small trash can was discreetly tucked under it.
He walked behind his desk, made two quick calls, then picked up a notepad, pen, and took a seat in a comfortable chair not far from the sofa. “Did you want a bottle of water, or coffee, or anything?”
