Love Ignited (Hollywood Series Book 2) Page 4

  “How do you think?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”

  “Listen, how about we cut the shit? What’s it going to take to get you to whip out your script pad and make this an easier situation for both of us? If I have to stay here, the least you can do is make me comfortable.”

  “Ah.” I smiled. He really was making it too easy for me to forget his good looks and see him for who he really was…someone who needed help. Just another patient.

  “What’s your price?”

  “Here’s the thing, Mr. Bradley. I actually want to help you.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Not bullshit. So if you really want to ‘make things easier on the both of us,’ as you say, then how about we ‘cut the shit’ and get to work?”

  “So, it’s like that?”

  “It’s like that,” I told him.

  “Fine, how do you want it?”

  “Pardon?”

  “I see the way you look at me. I’m not blind. I’m a little surprised seeing as how I saw you come in last night looking all freshly fucked, but hey, to each their own. You want it here, or would you like the whole celebrity seduction package?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Okay, you want to play hard to get, that’s cool.” He stood and sauntered toward me, placing his hands on my desk. “I don’t mind. I actually like a little role-play.”

  “Sit down, Mr. Bradley.”

  “Sure”—he winked—“but I’m going to need to go ahead and get my payment up front.”

  “Let me explain something to you, Mr. Bradley. I do not want anything you have. This is not a game. Either get it right or get out.”

  He shrugged, seemingly aware that it was a long shot. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  “Are you ready to begin now?”

  “What choice do I have?”

  “It’s funny you say that. Let’s talk about choices, shall we?” He stared at the wall behind me, uninterested. “Why do you choose to use?”

  “Because I like it.”

  “Okay. Why do you want to stop?”

  “I don’t.”

  “I’m confused. You sent me a hand-written note asking for help.” I flipped through my paperwork.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  I handed him the fax. “Is that not your handwriting?”

  He studied it, an array of emotion clouding his features. “I don’t remember writing that.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I don’t care what you believe.” He wadded up the paper and threw it across the room.

  “You should, Mr. Bradley. I’m the only person standing between you and a jail cell.”

  He just shut down after that. I saw it. He folded into himself. Everything I said after that just bounced off of him. I broke our session an hour early since I felt as if I were pushing him too hard. I did need to gain his trust for this to work, after all.

  “Let me show you the cleansing room,” I told him as we were walking out of my office. He followed me down the stairs and through the foyer to the marbled room. When we got there, I saw total defeat in his eyes. I was caught off guard. This was usually the stage in therapy where they begged for meds and fought me on everything or insulted me to the point where I was the one who had to hold it together.

  “Mr. Bradley, are you okay?”

  “Please stop calling me that,” he said almost in a whisper.

  “All right, how would you prefer to be addressed?”

  “Nathan or Nate, even asshole is fine…just not Mr. Bradley.”

  I made a mental note of the fact that he probably had daddy issues.

  “Okay, Nathan.” I smiled at him warmly. He was in need of kindness. Being a therapist was a little science and a lot of reading people. “This is the cleansing room. Each day, you will spend an hour here scrubbing the walls and floors.”

  “What?”

  “It’s symbolic of your sobriety. You learn to cleanse outwardly here so you can cleanse inwardly when you leave.”

  “I’m sorry, but that sounds like a bunch of psycho-babble. I’m not crazy. I’m not an addict. I like using drugs, but I can stop anytime I want. I’ve stopped several times cold turkey.”

  “That’s good to know. I guess you won’t have any problems doing it again then?”

  “Why do you do that? Why do twist my words and use them against me? It makes you unlikable.”

  “I don’t care if you like me. I do, however, care if you make it through this program.”

  “Why? You don’t know me.”

  “Because someone I do know believes in you very much. And besides that, I think everyone deserves to reach their potential. I think everyone deserves to succeed.”

  “Not everyone,” he said as he turned his back on me. “Are we done?”

  “For now. We’ll pick back up at one. Go have some lunch.”

  I found myself completely baffled by Nathan’s behavior. One minute, he was angry; the next, he was trying to screw his way out of this. The next, he seemed self-loathing. While mood swings weren’t uncommon for someone coming down, I had to admit that his particular mood path was a first.

  “It looks like this one is going to be deep, Ivan,” I told him as he hopped in the cart for lunch.

  I didn’t bother checking my fax machine today. I was too caught up in where to start with Mr. Bradley. I didn’t even know where to begin or what approach to take. He was different than the others. He would be a new experience for me professionally.

  He obviously wasn’t ready to open up, so it wouldn’t be as simple as my letting him talk like I had done with Mimi, like I did with most of them. I couldn’t play the bitch because he seemed to have some serious self-esteem issues. I wouldn’t want to play into that.

  I was at a loss for what to do, and it was just his first day. I guessed I would have to wing it and see where he led me.

  I ate my lunch, took a quick dip in the pool, and headed back across the property for our next session of the day. He was already in my office when I walked in.

  “Nathan, how was your lunch?”

  “Didn’t have any.”

  “I know you’re upset, but I insist that you eat—”

  “Look, Doc, if I’m going cold turkey, I have to do it my way. I don’t want to start puking.”

  “Fair enough, but just so you know, I could give you something for nausea.”

  “No.”

  I crossed my legs. “I’m going to be honest with you, Nathan. I’m really confused by your behavior. First, you beg for drugs, now you refuse them? What’s your game?”

  “I don’t have a game. I just thought about what you said. You know the part about believing everyone should reach their potential. I’ve been thinking the past three years that maybe I’ve already reached mine, but the conviction with which you said that really made me wonder if I do have more to offer.”

  “Okay.” I tossed my pad across my desk. “What’s the scam? No one comes around that quickly. No one sees the light on their first day.”

  “What?” He looked as though I’d slapped him.

  “Well, you walked in here calling me a hooker. After that, you offered to exchange sexual favors for drugs. All of this is typical, with the exception of the hooker part—that was a first—but usually these behaviors span over the period of months. If you’re trying to play me, it won’t work. You’ll do your time here, regardless.”

  “Have a little faith, Doc. I’m trying.” I leaned back in my chair more confused than ever. “And for the record, I was completely messed up when I mistook you for a hooker. You are way too attractive to be a professional.”

  “See…that right there. You’re coming on to me.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m being honest. Isn’t that what all of you shrinks want? Honesty and shit?”

  I looked into his chocolate eyes for any indication that he might be lying, but I didn’t find any. “Fine. Why don’t you tell me why you started
using?”

  “I was bored.”

  “Okay.” Again, I was taken aback again by his candor. “Do you have a relationship with your family?”

  He let his head fall back. “I don’t think I’m ready to go there.”

  “Why don’t you talk about whatever you want then?”

  “I’m uncomfortable with the fact that I saw you come in at midnight looking like you just got fucked three ways to Tuesday.”

  I blinked a few times. “I wasn’t…I mean, why does my personal life concern you?”

  “Don’t lie to me, Doc. If you want me to be honest, then I would appreciate it if you would extend me the same courtesy. As for your personal life, I could give a fuck, but since you are the only one keeping me from jail —those were your words—I would like to know that you have your shit together.”

  “My shit is together.”

  “Doesn’t look like it.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “From what I can tell, besides the help, you’re here by yourself.”

  “How do you know? I could have a husband for all you know.”

  “No ring.”

  “I don’t wear jewelry.”

  “Call it being perceptive then. You’re lonely. I can see it in your eyes. You’re a beautiful, smart, determined, lonely girl, Doc.”

  I stared for a beat. “You know, this isn’t about me. This is about you.”

  “So I’m right.” It was a statement, not a question. “How many cats do you have?”

  “Cats? None.”

  “Hmm, I would’ve pegged you for a cat lady.”

  “I guess that shows how perceptive you are. I hate cats. Now, let’s get back on task, shall we?”

  “I know the feeling…of being lonely, I mean. All the money in the world can’t buy happiness, loyalty, or love.”

  I found myself caught up in him for a moment. I cleared my throat. “So you don’t feel loved?”

  “Not really.”

  “Not even by your parents?”

  “Especially not them.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I guess because I haven’t talked to them in three years.”

  “Was that your decision or theirs?”

  “It was mutual. I let them down. I couldn’t face them after that.”

  “After you got busted for drugs the first time?”

  He laughed. “No, it was before that. I didn’t start using until after we parted ways.”

  “So you blame them for your addiction?”

  He glared at me. “Don’t put words in my mouth. I don’t blame them, and I told you I’m not an addict. I’m a recreational user. There’s a difference.”

  “You know, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.”

  “More psycho-babble. I told you something about myself. Now you tell me something about yourself.”

  “This is not a game, Mr. Br…Nathan.”

  “I didn’t say it was, Ella.”

  “You may address me as Dr. Lindsey. Now, tell me, why don’t you like to be called Mr. Bradley?”

  “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

  “I’m sorry?” I studied his face.

  “If you want to know about my shit, then I want to know about yours.”

  “I don’t have any shit.”

  “Everybody has shit, Doc. You want me to trust you?”

  “Yes, on a professional level, I need you to trust me to be able to help you.”

  “Then you have to open up. I answer a question; you answer a question…”

  “No,” I said quickly.

  “Then I guess it’s going to be a long three months, huh?”

  “Or it could be a long six or however long you let it be. You’re here until you complete the program regardless of how long it takes.”

  “Luckily, I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

  I deliberated silently for a moment, not breaking eye contact. I hated it when patients tried to make their therapy about me. It made me uncomfortable to share my private life with anyone, but occasionally, a small detail here and there was what it took to get them to open up.

  “What would you like to know?” I relented.

  “Did you go see your boyfriend last night?”

  “No.” I kept my answer concise then follow it with a question about him. “Why don’t you like to be called Mr. Bradley?”

  “I haven’t earned the right to be spoken to with respect. I haven’t done anything to deserve that.”

  “Everyone deserves to be—”

  “Tsk, tsk, my turn.” He wagged his finger at me. “If not your boyfriend, who did you sleep with?”

  I felt a slight blush rise in my cheeks. “No one. You said you don’t feel that you deserve to be respected. Why?”

  He turned his head to look out the window. “You’re lying. How can I trust you if you lie?”

  “My personal life is none of your business.”

  “I signed your contract. You signed one too. Nothing either of us says can leave this room. Who did you fuck?”

  I ran my hand across my forehead, entirely uncomfortable with this topic. I shouldn’t have allowed him to open this door. “Like I said, no one. And you don’t have to be so brash.”

  “You’re still lying. I saw you come in. Your hair was disheveled. Your milky skin was pink, almost glowing. You were wearing that tight-ass dress, and there wasn’t a trace of a panty line. Not even a thong.”

  “Are you getting off on this?”

  “Tell me or the session is over.”

  “You don’t call the shots here, Nathan. You may be a hotshot in LA, but here, you’re a patient. I tell you when the session is over, not the other way around.”

  “Who?”

  “I didn’t have sex. I’m telling the truth. I’m not comfortable with this topic,” I told him honestly.

  “I guess we just sit here and have a staring contest then because I’m done.”

  “No, we aren’t done,” I said, trying to regain the upper hand. I had never had a patient try to strong-arm me in this manner. “If you think you can manipulate me, you are sorely mistaken, Mr. Bradley.”

  “I’m not trying to manipulate you, Elena.” I felt my eyes widen when he said my real name.

  “How did you know?”

  “I actually read contracts before I sign them. Your given name is Elena.”

  I clasped my hands on my desk, resigned to the fact that if I wanted to help him, I was going to have to allow him to believe he was successfully manipulating me. A little classic reverse psychology. As long as I knew I had the upper hand, I was in control. “Fine, I went to see a friend.”

  “Male or female?”

  “Female.”

  “Liar.”

  I rolled my eyes. “A guy. I went to see a guy friend.”

  “And you had sex.”

  “No, we didn’t.”

  “Then why the glow and mussed bun?”

  “Nathan, this is highly inappropriate.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I rode with the top down on my car. My hair got messed up. I had a flat, and Mrs. Faulkner came to pick me up. That’s it.” I smiled inwardly to myself. “Now, let’s get back to what you were saying about respect.”

  “Nah,” he said casually, peering out the window. “I still feel like you’re lying. I trust my instincts.”

  I tossed my hands in the air. “I haven’t had sex in two long years!” Shit.

  He whipped his head around to look at me. He studied my expression the way I study others. “Now that I believe.”

  I slammed my notepad down on my desk and started toward the door, knowing that I let him push me too far.

  “Wait,” he said as I reached for the doorknob. “I am an addict.” I turned around to face him. His eyes were burning into mine. “But I’m not addicted to drugs.”

  “What then?”

  “I think that’s enough for today,” he stated.

  �
��I agree.” I walked out, slamming the door behind me, fuming.

  Mrs. Faulkner was coming up the stairs as I headed down. “He needs a week off,” I told her.

  “A whole week?”

  “Yep. Maybe more. Test his urine daily,” I said curtly, walking down the stairs and straight out the front door. I didn’t stop until I got to the stables. I changed into my riding gear and climbed up on Fierce bareback.

  Fierce was my wildest horse. I usually rode Sparkle, but not today. Today I was way too wound up for a gentle ride. The horse seemed to be brimming with pent-up energy. As soon as we cleared the door, he broke into a full gallop.

  I rode all the way around the perimeter of Vestige Estate. My ass was sore and throbbing before I steered Fierce back toward the stables. I hopped off with a hiss, rubbing my sore backside then kissed the dark horse on the nose before walking him back inside.

  “You like it rough, huh?” The voice had startled me, but more so the horse. Fierce reared up on his hind legs, knocking me backward.

  “Shit! Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine!” I swatted at Nathan’s outstretched hand as he attempted to reach down to help me up. “What are you doing down here?”

  “The maid sent me to shovel shit.”

  Ah, yes. I smiled, dusting off my rear. “Her name is not ‘the maid.’ It’s Mrs. Faulkner, and you will address her as such.”

  “Whatever. You ride bareback?”

  “Therapy is over for the day, Mr. Bradley.”

  “Maybe for you, Elena, but it seems like I’m still working.”

  I cringed every time he called me that. I tried not to let it show.

  “You have your work cut out for you. I will make sure the horses are fed hefty meals this week so you don’t get bored.” There was a gleam in his eye that I couldn’t quite describe. I looked away from him, too afraid to get caught staring again.

  “I’ll let you get back to it.” I turned to walk away.

  “If you didn’t have sex, then you wanted to,” he said. I stopped in my tracks. “Otherwise, why bother going commando? You don’t strike me as the type of girl who walks around without underwear. You’re the classy type. A lady.”

  I turned on my heel to face him. “Whatever this is that you’re doing…this game you’re playing, it’s only hurting you. You aren’t bothering me. I deal with people like you all the time. In fact, I can be quite perceptive myself. You’ve probably never done a day’s hard labor in your life. That’s one of the reasons I have you down here shoveling horse manure. So you’ll know what it’s like to earn your keep. The other reason I have you looking after the horses is because I doubt you’ve ever experienced what it’s like to take care of anyone or anything other than yourself, and you're doing a piss-poor job of that.”