Nick’s office is a complete and utter disaster. Not only is his computer archaic, it’s slow as molasses.

When I first sat down, I turned on the computer and realized it was going to take a while to use his internet. Made me wonder what type of service he had, which led me to poking around the overflowing file cabinets.

Turns out, Nick may be an excellent yoga teacher, boxer, and lover, as I’m slowly finding out, but he’s terrible at administrative business functions. His filing system is atrocious. Not to mention he has an entire file full of invoices that need to be mailed out, all of which are well over a week old. How can he bring in any money if he’s not sending out the bills?

First things first. I pick up the papers and toss my panties into his top drawer, feeling bold and brazen in that decision. Of course, it took me a full ten minutes to decide to tease him with those. After the sex we had on his desk—and couch—I can only imagine how explosive it will be when he puts his huge penis inside me. The stretch alone will be insane. I cross my legs over one another and clench down, imagining his thick length.

That line of thinking leads me to other, racier thoughts about bending me over his desk as he mentioned. I think I’d like that. I’ve never been taken in such a primal way. I’ve seen it on TV or in movies a hundred times, but it’s not something I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing with my past lovers. And none of them went down on me the way Nick did. I’m pretty sure college boys learn the art of cunnilingus through trial and error. Sadly, I must have been on the low end of the learning curve during that timeframe. In one go, Nick ruined me for all other men. I’m forever going to compare any future lovers with this man.

Future lovers.

If Nick heard me say that or even knew I was thinking it, he’d probably spank me. Imagining that spike of pain against my bare ass… That would be far more pleasurable than a razor blade to my arm or thigh.

Shaking off the sex thoughts, I evaluate each and every piece of paper in his office and then put each one into an appropriate pile. On top of his file cabinet, I find a big package of new manila folders, so I make good use of those to organize all of his files. I fold up the invoices, address the envelopes, locate a roll of stamps, and get those ready for mailing. After that, I set them on top of my purse, figuring I could drop them off at the mailbox for him.

Once I’ve got his desk organized, I tackle the rest of the file cabinet. Hours slide by as I work. I finish labeling and filing all the remaining paperwork before I approach the computer. His system for filing here is nonexistent too. There are at least fifty files on the desktop. Documents that need to be in an electronic folder, new folders that needed to be created. Then I found a file with his financials and dig in. I love a good budget and expense sheet. Not that he has one of those. I find a single spreadsheet an accountant drew up for him three years ago when he started his business. He hasn’t kept good records this entire time. How the heck has he gotten past the IRS and state tax board?

I start detailing his expenses based on the credit card and bank statements I find. Apparently, he did do his taxes but didn’t claim nearly enough, just the basics of the building and equipment. He didn’t claim his own pay, or the utilities, the towels he uses to wipe down machines, or the cleaning products. I find so many potential deductions, I’m scowling while I’m setting him up with a new foolproof system.

“What are you doing?” I hear over my shoulder as I type in his electric bill from the last six months into a separate tab on my spreadsheet. How can he not know his normal utilities are a deduction?

I don’t look at him, needing to finish the line item I was almost done with. “Categorizing your expenses. You’re not writing off nearly enough on your taxes. You should be getting a load of money back this year. I’ll make sure of it.” I firm my jaw and click to the gas bills section.

Before I can continue, Nick turns me around in his rolling chair. “Babe, it’s nine o’clock. I didn’t even know you were still back here. I just locked up for the night and saw your car. I figured you’d left after our fun time earlier.” He grins.

I shrug. “Your office was atrocious.”

He laughs and taps my chin so I focus on his pretty green eyes. “This is true. But that didn’t mean you had to clean it. Though, I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not thankful. I am. Thank you.”

The simple thank you digs deep into my chest, making me feel light and warm.

“What else did you do?” He looks around, obviously noticing all of the files are put away. He walks over to the four-drawer, standing cabinet and pulls open the top one.

I jump up and to his side, rather excited to show him everything I’ve accomplished. “I’ve made files and alphabetized all of your members. Each person has their own file along with copies of their invoices that have been paid, due, or overdue. Then here, I’ve got this month’s invoices and next month’s along with a prewritten envelope and stamp so you’re ahead of the game.”

He grins and thumbs through the files, shuts the drawer, and pulls out the next. “Holy shit, Dove, this is incredible. You did all this for me?”

Heat suffuses my cheeks, and I bite my lip and shrug.

Nick grabs me around the waist, plastering me against his chest. “You’re too good to be true. The best head I’ve ever had, the tastiest pussy, and you’re smart as hell. What am I going to do with all this goodness?” He curls his hands around my neck and then lays his lips on mine.

His arm slings across my back, bringing me as close as possible. I love that he does that. Makes me think he never wants me to get away. I melt into his arms and kiss him back until I’ve lost my breath.

He rips his mouth away with a voluptuous, “Ahh.”

I chuckle and rub the scruff on his chin. I press my thighs together, still feeling the heated burn from earlier. Yep, it was delicious having his scruff against my skin.

“I also got your expense documents together and up-to-date. I still need to enter the rest of the year’s credit card purchases and set up a solid quarterly plan for paying your taxes.”

“Why?”

“So you don’t get penalized by Uncle Sam, and it’s easier to pay quarterly payments. Not such a large sum at the end of the year.”

“Want a job?” He’s joking, but it smacks me like a blow to the face.

What I did today… I enjoyed it. Got swept away in the administrative aspect of Nick’s business. Maybe it was using the knowledge I’d been taught in school and being able to put the skills into practice, or maybe it was because I was helping the guy I’m seeing. Whatever the reason, I genuinely felt good doing it. Accomplished.

“I’d like to help out with your office needs if you don’t mind.”

“Ah, Dove…” Nick frowns and sighs. “I can’t afford to pay you.”

Now that I know. I’ve just organized his finances. He needs to get his billing up-to-date and his finances totally in the black before he can ever consider taking on staff.

“No, I know. But I had…um…fun doing this for you. And I don’t, well you know, have a job or technically need one.” I run my finger up and down his black, ribbed tank, not sure how to best word what I want.

“You telling me you want to help out your man for nuthin’?” His jaw is hard, but his eyes are soft.

I purse my lips. “Kind of. It will allow me to get back into the business side of my degree. Kind of like being back in the ring again.” I attempt to put it into terms that relate to his business.

He chuckles. “Babe, you don’t know anything about boxing.”

I shake my head. “No, you’re right. I don’t. But I do know how to run a business. If you’ll let me help, I’d be so grateful.”

His head jerks back, and he cups my cheeks. “You’re offering to help me, out of the goodness of your heart; no one’s offered that. I’m not stupid. Of course I’m going to take you up on it. But don’t feel like you have to. You can do what you want when you want. Come and go as you please.”

My eyes light up. “Can I have a key to the gym?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, babe, I’ll have a key made for you. Now since we’ve both worked a long, hard day, how’s about we go up to my pad and order some pizza?”

“Pizza?” I scrunch up my nose. That is not something I’ve had in over two years.

“Yeah, Dove, pizza. You know…cheese, pepperoni, olives, sausage, the good stuff. Do you like pizza?”

“Not sure. I haven’t had any since college. I’ve kind of forgotten what my favorite is, but I like all the ingredients you’ve mentioned.”

Nick shakes his head and grabs my hand, leading me out of his office and down the hall. “Hasn’t had pizza in years. What am I ever going to do with you?”

“I can think of a thing or two,” I offer in the sexiest voice I can muster, surprising myself that I’m being so forward.

He stops at the base of a staircase near the back entrance. “You want my mouth on you again, Dove?” Nick’s tone is growly and suggestive.

“Um…” I sway my hips from side to side.

“That’s a yes.” He leans forward and puts a shoulder to my abdomen, where he lifts me into a fireman’s hold.

I kick my legs. “Oh my goodness. Nick, put me down!”

“Not a chance. I’m taking you to my place, I’m eating you, and then we’re ordering pizza and eating that. Then maybe I’ll eat you again. You got a problem with my plan?”

I shake my head.

He growls in warning. Words. He always wants my words.

“No, Nick. No problem. All yours.”

“Damn straight.” He smacks my ass hard and takes the stairs two at a time.

---

My brute of a man did not lie about going down on me or eating the pizza last night. Though, at midnight he led me down to my car before moving things to the next step, claiming he wants to take me out again before we spend the night. Which I thought was sweet and yet oddly strange since we’d already had our mouths and hands all over one another’s naked bodies.

I wiggle my toes and evaluate my pedicure, when Dr. Hart enters her outer office.

“Come on in, Honor.”

“Hello, Dr. Hart!” I practically skip into her office.

“It’s Monet, again, Honor. And you seem…” Her eyes narrow, and she taps at her bottom lip with her pencil. “Happy.”

I sit on her couch and spread out my flowery new dress Grace helped me pick out. “Oh, I am.”

She smiles softly. “Would you care to tell me about this sudden change in your demeanor?”

Playing with my skirt, I trace a bold red flower that twines into an orange one. “It’s Nick.”

“The new yoga-teaching beau?”

I smile. “Yes, he’s a boxer too. Owns a gym. And guess what!”

Dr. Hart frowns, which is weird for her—she doesn’t usually—but I continue on anyway.

“He’s letting me organize his office. I’m going to help run his gym. He’s absolutely the worst at keeping files, and managing his money, and well, anything that involves the side that’s not physical or related to the gym’s equipment or how to deliver a punch correctly.” I say all of that in a flurry of excitement, not wanting to forget a moment of such a great, new experience.

Another frown.

Again, I carry on. “And he’s going to take me to meet his family on Sunday. He has a big family.” I smile in front of Dr. Hart for the first time in what feels like forever.

“Five sisters?” She tosses out the exact number of Nick’s siblings.

I gasp in awe. “Why yes. And they make wine. Well not all of them, but most of them. Nick wanted to be his own man after he…”

“Left the army.” She finishes my sentence.

This time I narrow my gaze and frown. “Dr. Hart, I’m getting the feeling that you know my Nick.”

She nods but issues her own question. “Before we get to that part, how about you start from the beginning and tell me how you two met and when he asked you out?”

“Actually, that was a strange accident.” I beam, feeling the flutter of the memory when I was afraid to take his class after meeting him. “Well, three or so weeks ago, I wasn’t going to go to his class again because I was embarrassed, and frankly, the man makes me nervous. Maybe not so much anymore, but being in his presence is like having a horde of bees buzzing all around me. I’m twitchy, itchy, and uncertain but exhilarated and excited at the same time. You know?”

With that question, Dr. Hart smiles. “I understand that feeling perfectly. I get it every time I see my husband, Clay.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. Your husband is a hunk.” I glance at the picture on her desk. Though, I still prefer the Italian Stallion. Nick is beyond my fantasy man.

“That he is. Now how did you meet up the second time?”

“Oh. Sorry. I ended up taking his sister Grace’s class, and he had decided to take her class that day too. After the class, he asked me out.”

“And you said yes.”

“Um, kind of. More like he made me say yes.” I chuckle. “I’m not sure Nick is the type of guy women say no to. Nor do I think he’d allow that of any female he was courting.” Not that he’s courting me anymore since he said we’re exclusive. And after yesterday on his desk, and last night at his house, there isn’t anyone I’d rather spend my time with.

“No, on that I would say you are right,” she responds, making it clear she does in fact know my Nick.

“Dr. Hart, I’m sensing there’s something you’re not saying.”

She nods. “Usually that’s my line.” Dr. Hart’s shoulders slump, and she rubs at her belly as if it’s a nervous gesture. Definitely not the response I was expecting with my great news.

“Let me ask you this. Is this Nick the same Nick that teaches at Lotus House in Berkeley? Nick Salerno?”

“Yes! You do know him.” I smile widely, but she doesn’t return the gesture, which makes me instantly uncomfortable.

Dr. Hart sighs, and it sounds heavy and fraught with unease. “I know him very well, I’m afraid.”

“Afraid? Are you trying to tell me he’s not a good man, that I shouldn’t date him?” Then it slams into me like a baseball ball bat to the back of the head. “Oh, my God! Have you dated him?” I cover my mouth with my own hand as the image of Dr. Hart and Nick kissing enters my mind. A sourness floods my gut and swirls, dangerously mixing up the cappuccino I had before attending my session.

My doctor shakes her head. “No, I haven’t dated him. He’s a friend, a brother type. I spend a lot of time with many of the same people.”

“Okay. Thank goodness. So you know he’s a good guy, and you’re not warning me off him?”

She lifts her hands and waves them in front her. “No, no, not at all. Nick Salerno is an amazing man, and if you’ve caught his eye, and he wants to be with you, that says something about you. It just also means I have intimate knowledge of the man you’re very likely going to want to talk about more often in therapy.”

“Which means what?” I twist my fingers together, sensing the unease filling the air in the room.

Dr. Hart lets out a long breath. “Honor, what it means is that it may not be ethical for me to continue being your doctor.” Her eyes are somber and filled to the brim with what I can only guess is sadness.

No. Oh no. I shake my head. Shivers of fear and dread ripple up my spine and out my arms. I clench my hands into fists, digging my nails into my palms fiercely with no concern whatsoever if I wound them.

“No. I’m finally doing good with someone. With you. I need you, Dr. Hart. You can’t turn me away.” Anxiety and alarm prickle at my skin as if hundreds of ants were crawling all over my body. I start to scratch at the length of my forearm, digging into the skin to ease the tension. It doesn’t work.

Monet gets up, her burgeoning belly seeming to lead the way before she sits and grabs my hands so I can’t move them along my tingling nerves.

“Honor, I don’t want to lose you as a client. I’m just worried about being able to give you a blind perspective on your relationship and the inner workings of it when I know both parties. Do you understand my position? What I’m saying?”

I lick my lips and grit my teeth.

She doesn’t want to see you anymore.

She’s probably been looking for a reason to get rid of you.

Poor, stupid Honor.

“Let’s talk about this. Figure out a plan. I can recommend an associate if that’s what we need to do. But there are options we can discuss first…”

Her words are a jumble in my mind. Just another person who wants to get away from me.

Honor the cutter.

The loser.

The rich little brat whose brother killed himself and left her behind, alone.

“Honor, what’s going on in your mind? What are you thinking right now?” Her words seem genuine, but how do I know that for fact anymore? She wants to get rid of me. Pawn me off on someone else.

“What do you care?” Tears prick the back of my eyes as the anger and distrust seep into my mind.

Her head jerks back, and a hand goes over her heart. “I care very much. We’ve been in a professional relationship for months now. Of course I care about your well-being. But I need to do what’s best for you as well. And that may be finding you another therapist who doesn’t know you or Nicholas personally.”

I huff. My well-being. All she cares about his getting rid of me.

She’s lying. Just like everyone else. My mother, my brother, Sean. For all I know, Nick is lying to me too.

I stand up, ripping my hands away from hers and pushing them through my hair, tugging at the roots. The prick of pain at the top of my scalp flares with a brilliant flicker of ease. Just one blessed speck of freedom in that split second of pain firing through my system.

“Fine. Whatever you want, Dr. Hart. I’ll save you the trouble of letting me go as a client and just leave now. You no longer need to worry about poor Honor Carmichael.”

I rush out of her office, feet moving faster than my mind can keep up. Her voice is calling for me to stop, to stay, as I step onto the elevator.

“Honor, please…” She makes it to the metal doors where I stand. She’s holding her pregnant belly and breathing heavily. I almost feel sorry for her, but I don’t allow the part of me that cares to the surface. Only the dark, numb side of me is present.

She takes a deep breath. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to help you the best way I know how.”

“By pushing me away.” I shake my head. “You’re just like everyone else.”

This time she shakes her head and reaches for me, but the doors on the elevator start to close. I hold out my hand. “It’s fine, Dr. Hart. I’m nobody. You don’t need to worry about me anymore. I’m sorry I took up so much of your time. Have a nice life.” I finish as the doors close, leaving me in the steel metal box alone.

Alone is where I’m supposed to be. I’m not good enough for anyone. Especially Nick. I’m not sure what I was thinking. Living a lie these past several weeks.

He asked me to go to his mother’s. I’m not good enough to meet anyone’s mother, let alone Nick’s and all his sisters. Even Grace. She’s everything I’m not. Love and light and pure beauty. She’s untainted by the world and doesn’t need a toxic friend bringing her down.

Absolutely not. There’s no way I can show my hideous face in front of people who are worthy of so much more.

The elevator whooshes me down to the lobby level. Tears streak my face as I dash out of the building and hail a cab.

Just as I get into the cab, my heart cold and dark, my cell phone rings. I don’t even have the state of mind to view the display before hitting the “answer” key.

“Honor Carmichael, you ungrateful little heathen. You better answer your mother when she speaks to you.” Her words are acid, pouring over my soul, making gaping holes I’ll never be able to fill.

“I’m here.” Physically.

“The staff have informed me that you apparently moved out without giving word.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re living in a hotel…” she starts.

“It’s my hotel, Mother.” I answer on autopilot because it’s true. My grandparents left me several, but when Hannon passed, I got all of his money and inheritance too. The hotel I’m in is one I own outright.

“How dare you disgrace our family name. Living in a hotel like a gypsy.” She tsks, and I can imagine her waving her finger at me like she’s done more times than I can count over the years when I’ve disappointed her.

“Pack your things, and come back home. If anyone has found out about your little stunt, I’ll tell them you were enjoying the spa services and checking in on your property.”

“I’m not coming home.” Where the gumption to make that statement came, I’ll never know. Maybe some latent juju from Nick popping to the surface. My stomach twists and rolls with every breath I take.

She skips over my comment and continues her rant. “And how dare you miss a date I scheduled for you. Do you have any idea what position you put me and your father in? This is the son of one of his top business partners. It’s a coup that he’s even willing to consider merging our families with a little piece of nothing like you. Thank God you have a pretty face, because the good Lord knows what you’re doing to the rest of your hideous body. Marking yourself like a common criminal.”

“Mother, stop…”

“You are so beneath your genetics it’s despicable. Every day I wonder why it wasn’t you instead of your brother. At least he could have been cured of his disease.”

Rage unlike anything I’ve ever experienced pours through my system like red-hot lava.

“He was gay! Hannon was gay, not sick! He didn’t have a disease. You and Father threatened the only good thing he had in his life. So he took that option away. It’s all your fault he’s dead!” I screech into the phone.

The cab driver ignores me completely. I don’t care what he thinks. I don’t care what anyone thinks anymore.

“Don’t be so melodramatic. Hannon was weak. I’m training you to be strong. Don’t you see that?” Her voice is ugly and laced with hatred. “One day you will thank me for setting you straight. Now I expect you to be back in your room and dressed to entertain. We’re having a ladies luncheon tomorrow with all of your friends.”

“They are not my friends.” Each word she spits out makes the holes inside of me larger, to the point where I don’t know where I am or who I am anymore. “I’m not coming home.” It’s the last thing I say before I power off my phone.

I have one destination in mind. One place to go, to take myself where the hurt subsides and the ugly bleeds out. I need it badly.

The remaining minutes fly by in a haze of self-doubt and loathing as we roll up to my hotel. I pay the cab and rush to the private penthouse elevator. I don’t look up from the floor because I don’t want anyone to stop me from where I need to be. What I need to do.

The guilt and the hate war inside me.

Dr. Hart doesn’t want to treat me anymore. She doesn’t care about me.

My mother hates me.

I hate me.

Go to Nick’s. He’ll be there for you. Hannon’s voice slips into my subconscious, but I press against my temples. Not now.

I need this.

My keycard opens the door, and I rush into the bedroom and then the en suite bathroom, where I pull out the drawer. Everything inside falls to the floor in a clatter of makeup products, brushes, combs, and the small zip-up kit I’ve hidden in the very back. The one I haven’t used since I met Nick.

I open the two-inch by four-inch case that used to hold nail clippers and pull out a shiny, new double-sided razor. I push up the sleeves on my forearms, point the tip of the blade to my skin and press in. A bright crimson drop of blood appears and with it…my salvation.

Digging in, I swipe down in a three-inch line. Blood pools and drips down my arm, but it’s not enough. The pain is never enough. My tears are scalding hot as they run down my cheeks. More. I need more. I stick a new bare expanse of skin, lower than I’ve gone before. The henna is nowhere near this this area. I don’t care. I flick my wrist fast this time. Opening a larger wound, digging deeper. Farther than I’ve gone before.

Pain, nothing but blessed pain fills the empty void surrounding my heart and mind.

I blink around the tears and let the instant bliss kick in. It’s heady, reminding me of when Nick is kissing me. Gripping the blade tightly in my palm, I feel the double-sided razor slice my skin. I close my eyes and slump to the side along the floor.

It’s okay now. I’m better here, I tell myself as my vision fades in and out. Red pools around my arm and wrist, making a small puddle on the tile floor. So much blood. But it doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters.

I’m nobody.

Not worthy.

Even Nick will forget about me soon enough.

Nick, the sweet, brute of a man, is the last thing I envision when the world around me goes blessedly black.