CHAPTER ONE
The clientele who came to see me at my private practice, in one of New York City’s most exclusive buildings, were often famous, rich, and beautiful—both the men and the women. They usually had their secretaries set up their appointments, and then their lawyers send over non-disclosure agreements. As if I would violate the confidentiality that came from treating them and endanger my reputation as one of the most prominent psychologists in the country. But, still the contracts came, and I would sign. Today was a new appointment. My receptionist had told me his name yesterday, and I hadn’t recognized it. This morning, sitting on my chair, were three magazines she’d grabbed on the way in. The same man was on all the covers, looking gorgeous. And I mean… gorgeous, in his business suits, sitting on boardroom tables.
The headlines screamed his name, Aiden Copeland. Underneath were articles that called him unstoppable, all-powerful and a shark.
Somehow it made me shiver. Sitting across from Aiden would be a task - a pleasure, yes, but still a task, because while I was a professional in all senses, I could still appreciate the male form. And he was certainly an alpha male, who dominated his profession—actually the world—from Wall Street investors and stockholders to the front covers of magazines.
I shivered again because even the thought of dominating was delicious. The suits Aiden wore, that chiseled jaw… there was no doubt how he’d look if he shed those layers of expensive clothes.
The file I had was blank other than what his attorney said. He was having issues with depression. The magazine articles would never lead me to believe that, but that was why reality was different to what the public saw and I had a very well-paying job listening to people and guiding them to be their best person possible. My well-paying job was also why I wouldn’t notice how his eyes smoldered the second he walked in.
It was something I’d always been able to do.
That was until he came in, with my receptionist trailing behind. Her not-so-subtle look at me said that this was one I should pay attention to, in more ways than one. She was nuts and inappropriate, but oh my, she was also right. In front of me was someone with charisma that radiated. His charm sparkled more than his eyes, and that was before he’d even said a word. That mattered far more than his bank account and that he was one of the wealthiest men in the world.
“Hello there,” Aiden Copeland extended his hand. A Rolex peeked out from his monographed French cuff. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Alexis Park.”
“I’ve never done this thing before. Ms. Park? Dr. Park? …Mrs.?”
I didn’t blush. But, wow, Aiden’s tone. It caught me off guard. It wasn’t aggressive or flirtatious. But it was inquisitive, and with a heat that I hadn’t expected that curled down my neck to my breasts. “My clients usually go with Alexis.”
“Alexis. Beautiful name.”
“Nothing special,” I disagreed, uncertain why I’d ever do that. It wasn’t my style to play myself down.
“We’ll agree to disagree.”
Well, hell. A blush that, luckily, was out of eyeshot threatened to make an appearance. Moving back, I ushered Aiden in. “Come on in.”
“You were a recommendation, and I’m already not regretting it.” He moved past me to the various articles and awards on the wall. It was my trophy wall. “Very accomplished.”
Maybe I needed the therapy today because I could’ve sworn this time he’d almost flirted. But it didn’t matter. It was time to work.
“I typically jump into the business at hand, immediately,” he said. “Is that okay; if I just start talking?” He chose the couch over the chair.
“Of course.” I took my seat and casually picked up my notebook.
He leaned back, searching the ceiling for answers or inspiration, maybe even strength.
“Are you aware of what happened to my partner?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I only know you’re feeling depressed.”
“Last summer, my girlfriend was in a jet ski accident. I was in the boat, watching. She died. Drowned. I watched and didn’t realize it was happening … right before my eyes. I… can’t even express how guilty I feel. We were at a conference for one of my companies. A new one, where I was rolling out an IPO, and… I watched her drown and made millions in one day.”
His voice broke, and his eyes went back to the ceiling. Or maybe to heaven. “I don’t usually become emotional when I discuss her.”
Perhaps that was the problem. The emotions were there, but he refused their existence. I extended him the handy, often-used box of tissues and he took two, not letting a tear slip free. He barely looked forward.
“What was her name?” I asked.
His eyes went to mine, seemingly caught off guard that he needed to humanize her with a name. “Anne.”
Then the tears fell. Aiden didn’t cry. Not in the sense where I’ve seen people sob. His tears simply slipped free. One after another, and he let them fall as if too tired to wipe them away.
Finally, he dropped his head and rubbed each cheek. He shoved the tissues, the evidence, into his pocket as if he couldn’t stand to see the used tissues, but couldn’t let them go, and my heart broke for him.
“Aiden—”
“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to complain about my CIO. Harry’s a son of a bitch, and every time I see his face, I imagine the party I’m going to throw when he resigns.”
We both shared a chuckle and, agreeing, I let him have his subject change but I said it was on one condition: that he’ll do homework for me.
“Depends,” he said cautiously. “What is it?”
“Spoken like a true negotiator. But that’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
His eyes flashed. “If I don’t, you won’t see me anymore?”
“Pretty much.”
“Any therapist would love to boast I’m on their client list.”
“And that is why you’re in here with me.”
His eyes worked me up and down, and I couldn’t tell in what regard. “True. Deal.”
For the remainder of the first session, I listened to Aiden explain the intricacies of his wealth and stress, his companies and friends, then it was time. “What’s my homework?”
“Write down a list of friends?”
He smirked, cocky for the first time since I’d met him. “I’ll have my social secretary send your receptionist my contact list. That would be easier. Would you like it sorted by country? Or by corporation?”
“I wasn’t finished yet.”
His eyebrows raised. “I apologize.”
“Friends, who you’ve told how you feel about Anne, within the last six months.”
His eyebrows dropped. “That’s well after the funeral.”
“And that’s exactly my point.”
“I don’t follow,” he said.
“I want to know who your real friends are, and I’d like you to know too. Exclude your family.”
Aiden scrunched his mouth and shook his head, staring at the office door. “Then my homework is easy. No one’s on the list.”
I didn’t say a word, and that said everything it needed to. “I’ll see you next week.”
He inched forward in his chair. “Or this week? I can clear a few things. Whatever you have available.”
It was my turn to study him. Therapists wanted to work with clients who wanted to work on themselves.
“That will work for me.”