Highest Bidder Collection - Lauren Landish Page 0,87

Her hair is loose in her bun and her cream-colored blouse is a bit wrinkled from being worn all day, but she’s here for me.

“Dahlia,” she greets me warmly with a gentle smile. She gestures at the couch across from her. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you,” I say softly, feeling nervousness start to set in, and trembling slightly. Barefoot, I walk over and sink onto the couch, pulling my legs up under me, sucking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

“Now, would you like to tell me what’s bothering you?” Sandra asks me when I’m fully seated, her soft voice soothing the turmoil that’s roiling beneath the surface. Her pale blue eyes focus on me behind her glasses.

I open my mouth to speak, but then close it when I realize something critical I missed on the way over. I can’t tell her anything that will incriminate Lucian, so I’m going to have to be very careful talking about my uncle’s death. I sit there for a moment, my mind racing on what I could safely disclose. I run my hand over my face, hating this and hating everything.

“Dahlia?” Sandra prods gently.

“My uncle is dead,” I announce, suddenly deciding that I will just go with a variation of the truth. Hopefully Sandra won’t read too much into it.

Sandra lowers her pen to pad, scribbling, and frowns. “Oh, dear, Dahlia. I’m sorry to hear that.”

I nod. I should be crying right now, but I can’t summon a single fucking tear. Or maybe I shouldn’t. I know it must look odd, but I can’t help it. “Shot in the back of his head twice.” I hate how flat my words sound, I could be talking about a piece of trash off the street.

And that’s what he was, I tell myself. A piece of trash. But that doesn’t make his murder right. And I know it. I just can’t bring myself to care. I bite my thumbnail, just trying to think straight.

Sandra shakes her head, anguish flashing in her eyes. “That’s horrible. I’m truly sorry, Dahlia.” She sets her pen down on the pad and leans forward. “Was this the uncle who hurt you?” her voice is soft and full of understanding.

I nod my head, brushing the bastard tears away. “Yes, and he’s dead now.”

“I see. How do you feel about that?”

“I…” I pause, feeling a weight on my chest, “I feel like I’m somewhat responsible for his death.”

Sandra writes something down on her notepad and then looks up at me, her face twisted with curiosity. “Why is that?”

I shrug while shaking my head. Of course I can’t tell her everything, but I feel like admitting a partial truth will help me deal with my guilt. “I just do.”

Sandra scribbles several lines and then focuses her kind eyes on me, compassion flashing in them. “You can’t blame yourself for your uncle’s death, Dahlia. It’s not healthy.”

I shake my head. “Yes, I can. It’s because of me he’s dead.”

Sandra frowns at the conviction in my voice. “Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know, I just feel responsible for it in some way.” I choke on my words. “But I don’t feel bad about it,” I admit. “Except for the guilt I feel about not caring, I feel kind of relieved actually. Like, I’m totally happy he’s dead.” The silence that follows presses down upon me, and I cringe. I hate how that makes me sound, but I can’t help it. It’s the truth. I look over at Sandra and she’s watching me, sitting very still. I wonder what’s going on in her head. “Does that make me a bad person?”

Sandra scribbles more notes down on her notepad before looking back up at me. “Considering what he did to you, no. Not at all.” She pauses as if thinking about how to formulate a question. “But now that he’s dead, do you think his death will help you?” She pauses again, but I know exactly what she means. “It’s important I document the impact that it has on you.”

Hugging my knees to myself, I shake my head. “No. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I finally was able to let that all go.” That same guilt comes back over me, but I push it away. I hate the fact that I’m happy about my uncle being dead, but I can’t help myself.

“I see.”

I cover my face with my hands as I lean forward crying. It’s because of Lucian. It’s all because of him.

“Dahlia,”