Chapter 3: The meeting

It was the evening of my appointment and I had been patiently waiting to be called inside. Because of what happened with the stranger three nights ago, I almost decided to scrap the whole thing and find him. I would check if that night was real or it was something I imagined. 

The next morning, I was thinking of asking the Human resources manager I saw talking to him before the girls arrived when Evans jumped into my office, berating me for my stupid behavior with those two ladies. He kept yelling at me that they were daughters of influential people he was trying to keep as our clients, commanding that I should make sure I send an official apology to them, before the close of work that day. Luckily, Diana dropped by to collect something from me, hearing all he said. If not her begging me to swallow my pride and call the blond I found was named Ashley, I probably would have been out of work by now. 

"You should have changed those shoes," Diana said, laughing as she left my office.

The secretary was still on the phone, speaking in that slightly fake accent that annoyed my ears. It was her surreptitious glance that made me wonder what was going on. I knew for a fact it wasn't she couldn't be judging my attire, because I looked put together. It was confirmed when Evans whistled, when he met at the lobby, his eyes moving lasciviously over me. Even Miles kept begging me all through to have one meal with him today.

Since I had nothing to do but wait, my mind went back to that night. Apart from the night I went missing, it was the only time, that I had felt something so compelling for a man. The constant daydreaming too was a shocking development. I embraced it because it was such a welcome relief, compared to the nightmares I couldn't get rid off. 

"Mr Fisher would see you now." The haughty secretary sneered at me as she spoke to me. I stood up and went down the long hall that led to the room, not bothering to spare her a glance. From my angle, I could tell she was pissed I didn't acknowledge her, but it was a waste of time to be nice to people that were not nice to you in return; wisdom nugget from grandma Lucinda.

I paused immediately I entered, as I didn't expect the room to look the way it did. It was like I was stepping into a living room. There were various arts on the walls. I perused each art, pausing to look more when I saw a woman with different colors on her face. It was like something came over me because I couldn't look away. 

Don't be fooled by my colors

"Impressive, is it not?" Someone said, standing beside me, startling me. I didn't see anyone when I came in and I hadn't heard the door open so I turned away from the picture to face the owner of the voice and tell him I did not appreciate being startled, when I saw the face belonging to the voice. The pre-planned speech failed as my breath left me and my mind became blank. I thought I had seen him that night but in all honesty, I was just seeing him now. You do not stop at gorgeous when describing a man like this, it was lacking.

His golden eyes was more magnificent up close, his lips perfectly made to fit his face, his nose was a bit wide but added to his masculinity. His hair was colored black; it was shaved at the side and trimmed at the top. Studying him was becoming too much of an overload of the senses when my ears landed on his, startling a laugh out of me. It was big and curved like that of a dog. 

"Your ears are beautiful," I said and he gave me a shy smile. The smile made him more human like and I relaxed.

"You just love shooting me down, yeah? That day it was pretty boy, today it's what? Dog ears?" He commented, not sounding the least bit offended.

"Well, dog ears fit but you said it not me." We shared a laugh and all of a sudden, my remaining discomfort disappeared.

"Please sit down!" He commanded, his voice still soft but firm, reminding me of father, whose birthday is in the next three months.

"Thank you." I sat down on the cream colored camelback sofa while he sat on the grey wingback sofa, stretching his long legs clad in a grey suit pants, his jacket hanging on a coat rack by the door, he had the arm of his white shirt rolled up to his elbow while is waistcoat was still on. A quick glance at his Oxford whole cut shoes, confirmed he had a great sense of style.

"So, do I pass the verdict? Am I dressed to your taste?" He didn't sound offended, infact I heard the amused smile in his voice but I couldn't stop the blush that spread all over my face.

"I wasn't checking you out?" I proceeded to say like a ten year old, making me try to will the floor open to swallow me whole.

"I believe we still need this floor, so whatever you're thinking, let the floor still be here." He joked and I looked at him wondering how he knew what I was thinking. "If it makes you feel better, I wasn't checking you out too." He winked and I relaxed, smiling at him.

"I am so sorry for acting this way, sir-" I was saying when he shook his head.

"I see my patients as friends I want to help, no judgement here, no rank. What I am trying to say is Hunter is fine." He said and I nodded.

"I was about to say I was sorry for what I did, it was totally unpatientlike, it wouldn't happen again." I assured him and I could swear I heard him say 'that wouldn't be fun.' 

"What?" I asked, doubting what I heard.

"I said, that's okay." He replied, giving me a clinical smile that made me a bit sad.

"I also haven't apologized for that night when-" he interrupted me again, this time his smile was more real, "I don't detest apologies especially when they are deserved but if we don't do what we have to do now, we would be wasting time and that's not what you're paying me for." He nodded to check I got him and I returned his nod, swearing not to speak unless spoken to.

"I hope I haven't offended you with my bluntness, I am told I can be so focused on a goal that I become rude sometimes." He rubbed the back of his head in this boyish way that made reminded me of Louise.

"It's fine. I paid money for this and my money's worth must be gotten. You're not cheap and I have expensive tastes." He laughed out loud and I felt proud I could do that. It was a stupid thing to feel empowered about but I loved it anyway.

"So, do I address you as Miss Mills or Veronica?" He asked me as he laced his fingers together and propped his chin on it. The way he watched me made me feel open, like he could see all about me immediately.

"Don't you expect your to call your patients by name, when you've allowed them to call you by yours?" I asked, confused by his question.

"Well, it makes me more comfortable with my patient when they call me by my name but I can't expect the same of my patients, they might not like, so I ask what they would feel more comfortable with." He explained and I understood. I understood to the point I knew what I wanted him to call me.

"Miss Mills." I said to put up some very needed layer to the ones that had already been taken down.

"Miss Mills it is." I hated that he said it like he knew what I was attempting to do with insisting he used my surname.

"Tell me, Miss Mills, what you think about that picture of the woman you were so focused on, you didn't notice me." He asked.

"You don't get that a lot, do you?" I teased trying to delay answering the question.

He gave me an 'i see what you are doing look, but I'll humor you'

"Not really. I don't look the way I look and not command attention." He said and despite myself I liked he was straight. He wasn't cocky with his declaration. It was like an 'i know, you know I am good-looking, it's no big deal.'

"Now, you trying to stall or subtly change what we're discussing is not working Miss Mills.. So please answer my question." He didn't sound upset or put out.

How to answer? I wondered

"Well it's very colorful." It was a poor attempt on my part and if Cynthia and Diana were here, they both would have slapped their foreheads with their palms. I felt telling him the truth would expose me.

"So, we can see. Try harder." He wasn't impressed but he was amused.

I pretended to look harder, I turned my head left and right and adopted the studying pose trying to stall time.

"I know what you are doing miss Mills and I would tell you I disapprove. But if you want to waste time and money, be my guest." He said and I could hear the smile in his voice like I was entertaining him. 

"I think it feels sad." I said, but apparently he wasn't satisfied because he asked.

"Why do you think so? I mean she is smiling." He looked at the picture too.

"Just because she's smiling doesn't mean she's happy. It just means she smiled. Sorrow is not far behind and they do say the eyes are the window to the soul now, don't they?"

"And the color?" He continued and I looked at it again and spoke.

"It's distracting, it makes people think everything is beautiful, not bothering to see the haunted expression only her eyes are revealing."

He gave me a lazy smile, "I am glad you honestly answered. That way we can get to helping you quickly"

I scoffed and he raised a brow in response.

"So sorry." I apologized. It was supposed to be an internal scoff.

"Tell me why you scoffed." He ignored my apology and waited for my answer. But what could I say?

I don't believe you have anything to offer me? Or I have seen many others more experienced than you fail.

I mean Dr Anthony had been in the same business for almost forty years yet he failed miserably with me. He certainly won't be using me as a point of reference now that I thought about it.

"Well I did that because I...l...l " why was I getting stuck on the I

"You thought I didn't have much to offer you because you've seen others and nothing worked and my age or experience bothers you, right?" He said point blankly. This guy sure didn't sugar-coat words. I felt the full force of guilt sinking in my gut, I probably would have bad if someone thought I wasn't competent.

"You're right, I have seen someone with more experience than your age, and he was unable to cure me." I said looking down at my black colored fingernails like a school girl, instead of the twenty eight year old lady I was.

"That just tells me you are your own problem."

The anger I felt at his statement was so sudden it propelled me out of the chair, ready to shoot him down with words.

"Look here, Hunter." I began, breathing heavily even without saying much.

"You don't know me, you just me. You can't decide that I am the problem. Do you know how hard this has been for me? Do you know hard it was for me to leave my family in town, never returning to it because I can't bear to stay there or the number of nightmares that I have everytime, unable to sleep sometimes without drugs, or unable to stay home because I am alone." I took in a much needed breathe before I continued, " I see my close friends have significant others, get married, have kids, and I am not able to do that because I can't allow a guy touch me intimately, do you understand how tough and depressing that is? So don't come here, giving me that flawed logic that I am my problem." I grabbed my bag, intent on leaving and never returning, but it was the same thing the other night that made me stop. He touched me and I didn't flinch even after it passed more seconds than the normal I could bear.

"You're giving up before we even start because you are scared." 

I was still waiting for the panic I knew would set in but nothing happened, and I stared openly at him holding my hand in his, held gently.

"Do you know what you stand to lose when you leave this room? Because if you do leave this room, I promise you that I won't take your case back, all the money, begging in this world won't let me." He told me, and I felt fear as I thought of what I would indeed lose if I left.

"Together, we would explore what happened, and together we would help you live a normal life. All you have to do is work with me, do all I say and tell me what I need to know." I still didn't speak, not trusting my feelings right now. 

I will find you... You're mine, Veronica...

His voice yelled in my head and I cringed, feeling icy fear at being found by the man that raped me and had never been found. He was out there, somewhere. And here I was still allowing him to control my life ten years after he came into it and left. It dawned on that each time I refused to get better, I was giving him pieces of myself, and if I was not careful, all that would remain of me would be my shell; empty and unhappy.

"What do you say, Veronica?" He stood up, standing so close to my back that I felt his heat cover me. It melted the fear that had begun to form, banishing the cold.

"I want to fight."