Page 89 of Stand Your Ground
I thought of Livia.
She was the first thing that popped into my head in the morning, and the last on my mind before I drifted off to sleep each night. I saw her sultry eyes in the shower, felt her any time I wrapped up in a towel or blanket, smelled her when I lit a candle — vanilla and jasmine. I heard her smoky voice on replay without trying, all the words she’d said to me the night I surrendered to her in a way I never thought I could.
“No one turns me on like you do. You know that? No one does this for me the way you do.”
I tortured myself wondering if it had just been talk; if she’d just been praising me as part of the play, or if she’d meant it.
Because if she did…
It lit me on fire to think so, to think that I could be something more to that woman than just a project and a paycheck.
Her sporadic texts had fed me in the days of not seeing her, though I wished for more. But two nights ago, the texts had stopped, all the banter gone and my patience along with it.
I had to see her.
And so, I found myself “coincidently nearby” her dental practice on Wednesday afternoon, about ten minutes before I knew she’d be done for the day. She’d mentioned in an offhand comment during our date night that she took a half day in the middle of the week, letting her partner take over while she got caught up on admin or just fucked off for the day.
I hoped with everything I had in me that she was in the mood to do the latter.
The glass doors whispered shut behind me as I entered, the cool blast of air-conditioning cutting the humid sting of the afternoon. The faint smell of mint and something floral floated in the air, a perfect mask for the tang of antiseptic underneath.
Soft piano music played over hidden speakers, barely loud enough to compete with the gentle hum of a water feature in the corner. The reception desk gleamed white and gold, like it belonged in a luxury hotel lobby, and every chair in the waiting area looked too nice to actually sit in.
“Mr. Fabri,” Tasha said with a warm smile that morphed into a polite frown as she glanced at her monitor. She wore her usual fitted blazer over a silk blouse, nails painted a pearly nude. “I don’t see an appointment for you today…”
“I’m here to see Liv,” I said easily, or at least I tried to. My tongue tripped on the next part. “As a… friend.”
My heart rebelled at the use of that word, but I tamed it with a swallow and a straightening of my spine.
Tasha’s brows ticked up, but she reached for the phone on her desk. “One moment.” She murmured into the receiver, glancing at me with a knowing smirk I wasn’t sure I liked, then set it back in its cradle. “She’ll see you. Come on back.”
The hallway was hushed except for the faint whir of something mechanical in one of the closed operatories we passed. The scent of mint got sharper the deeper we went. I couldn’t help but look around the office with new eyes. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been there plenty of times before, but I knew the woman behind the name more now, and I felt invigorated being in the place she spent so much of her time, in the practice she dreamed of opening for so long.
Tasha led me to the far corner office with a glass wall, blinds half-drawn. Through the slats, I caught a glimpse of Livia at her desk.
Her bun was sleek and perfect, every strand locked into place.
And that was the only thing about her that looked composed.
Her white coat hung on the back of her chair; the satin rose sleeves of her blouse rolled to her elbows as she scribbled notesover a stack of patient charts. Her jaw was tight, her brows pinched together, shoulders hunched over like they carried the weight of the world.
She didn’t look up right away when Tasha let me in and closed the door behind her as she exited. Livia appeared to be too focused on whatever was in front of her. And for a second, I just stood there in the doorway, feeling the knot in my chest tighten at the sight of her.
“Hello, Doctor.”
And even though Tasha had called ahead of my entrance, Livia still jumped as if I’d knocked a stack of books to the ground rather than greeted her in a soft, even-keeled voice. She looked up at me and sighed like she was annoyed by my presence or her reaction to it or both. “What are you doing here?”
I crossed to the chair on the other side of her desk and took a seat, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee as I recited the words I’d acted out in my head a dozen times now. “Well, I was just in the area, and I remembered that you had a half day on Wednesdays. I thought I’d come by and say hi.”
She blinked at me, eyes drifting to where I’d crossed my legs before they found my gaze again. “By all means, make yourself comfortable.”
“I brought cookies,” I said, holding up the brown box in my hand. “Bake’n Babes. You said they were your favorite, yeah?”
Livia softened, just marginally, like she was surprised I remembered. And then she shook her head, getting right back to the task in front of her. “I don’t have time for this, Carter.”
“You don’t have time for a Fruity Pebbles cookie?” I mused, pulling one from the box. “Because I have sources that say it’s impossible to be stressed with one of these in your mouth.”
“Who says I’m stressed?”
