snarl at him.
“Deep breath, one, two, three and smile…”
I narrow my eyes at him as I could’ve sworn I just saw a flicker of a smile pass across his face.
“Asshat,” I mutter. He’d been baiting me. But I have no idea if that’s what he really thinks or not and that also pisses me off. I sigh. “I feel like a fraud,” I add after a beat.
“Why?”
I watch as he taps his pen on his chin, his eyes never leaving mine. He is riveted to what I have to say and that is a first. Usually the male’s eyes are on my tits, ass or pussy, as they think only about nailing me.
“Oooooh,” I breathe out as the realization hits me of what he is trying to say with his hurtful words. I nod at him. “I get what you’re saying.”
“About what?”
“Fucking fuck-fuck,” I snap. “Stop asking questions.”
He blinks at me and I take a deep breath. “You think that males don’t take me seriously because of the way I dress.”
“Is that what you think?”
“RAHHH!” I roar at him, clenching my fists and flashing my Devil’s eyes of fire at him briefly before I grit out, “One, two, three and smile.” I plaster a smile on my face, but judging by his look, it’s probably more of a grimace.
I need to refocus. This session is supposed to be helping me with the pesky shame I feel about how I got my rule. “I feel bad because I didn’t kill my father to get his power.”
He gives me a fleeting incredulous look and I realize that my words weren’t perhaps said in the way that I meant them.
His bland look descends again. “No, your mother found another way for you to get your power, which did not include having to kill your own father for them. But you feel it has lessened your ability to rule or lessened the impact of it?”
I grit my teeth. “Both.”
“Only your family knows of this development.”
“And you,” I remind him with a warning note in my voice.
He nods slowly. “You are worried that if someone finds out, they will use it against you?”
I nod. Now we are getting somewhere. “Not just that, though. I feel…” I choke on the word, “…guilty about how it all went down.”
“It was his choice, was it not?”
“Yes,” I say in a small voice.
“Then what is there to feel guilty about?”
“He gave up a year of his life to do this because he knew I didn’t want to kill him. He knows that I didn’t have it in me and that makes me feel like shit, okay?” I fold my arms across my chest and sit back with a mutinous look on my face.
“The way I hear it, you have no problem killing,” he states, his eyes boring into mine. “You love your father, that is plain. Of course you don’t want to kill him.”
“He killed his father,” I point out.
“Maybe his father was a prick?” he says with a sexy smirk that catches me off guard.
I snort laugh. “Word is,” I agree.
“There you go.”
I smile at him and actually feel marginally better about this situation than I did before. “Thanks,” I mutter.
“No need for thanks,” he says. “You did most of the work.”
I regard him for a moment and then unfold my arms, uncross my legs and open them wide for a few seconds before I cross them again.
His eyes drop for a split second, but then focus on my eyes again.
I give him a wicked smile, but what he implied before resounds in my head. “Same time tomorrow,” I say and stand up.
He stands too, putting his notebook on the table next to him. “I choose to believe that you aren’t a bad person, Annabelle,” he says carefully.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Shows what you know, Gregory. I’m not even a person.” Then, just to prove my point, I leave his office engulfed in the flames of Hell, the Devil’s power to be one place one second and another the next.
Outside of Gregory’s office, I look down at myself. I bite my lip and with a single thought, change my outfit to a crisp white blouse and black pants. My shoes are still high with little spikes sticking out of them and the heels are wickedly sharp, useful for eye gouging when the need overtakes me. I don’t know why it never does with Gregory. He is a pain in my ass, and I need him, but