CHAPTER HUNDRED AND FORTY-ONE

BRIAN POV

Moona Avii is a beautiful package of trouble, just like I said.

      We have CCTV in this room. One false move and I’d be out of the job I’ve dedicated the last fifteen years to.

 And I wouldn’t make one false move. Of course I wouldn’t.

      Couldn’t.

      I’m waiting for it  – the stream of obscenities as she loses her shit and tells me I’m disgusting. That I want to smell her. Want to taste her. Want her to rub her tight little pussy in my face.

      I wait for her to tell me I’m an asshole and she never wants to see me again, that my help isn’t worth shit.

      But today she doesn’t.

      It’s the breath she takes. The shaky little rasp of air that sets my nerves on fire.

      It’s the way she looks at her boots and not at me.

      “They really are gonna throw me out this time,” she whispers. “I said sorry, too. I mean, I’ll be alright, I can take care of myself, find myself someone to bunk with, I just… I like my room there. I feel safe.”

      “Apologise again,” I tell her, but she shakes her head. “Tell them how you really feel.”

  “No point.”

      One false move and she’ll storm away and I know it. One stupid comment and she’ll be out and away from here long before our remaining fifteen minutes is up.

      I should ask her the standard questions. Tick the right boxes. I should be professional, just as I have been every other session up until now.

      But I can taste it. The tiny little crack in her beautifully plated armour.

  “Who really hurts you, Moona?” I ask her, and those green eyes crash right into mine.

      “Who do you think?”

      “Tell me,” I insist, willing that just this one time she’ll finally be honest.

      She fiddles with her grubby fingernails. “You think I do it to myself. Everyone thinks that.”

      My skin prickles. “Do you?”

      She shrugs. “I trampled mud across Amie and Nick’s posh carpet. And I put that hair dye in with Amie’s washing. I did it on purpose, all of it. Maybe I hurt myself too.”

      “Why did you do those things?”

      “I wanted them to be angry. I wanted to hurt them.”

      “And what about now? Do you still want to hurt them? Do you want to hurt yourself?”   

“Maybe.” Another shrug. “No.”

      Make or break. I take an audible breath. “This is it, Moona, last chance saloon. Five months you’ve been coming here, and for what? Tell me how I can help you. Let me help you. Why come here every week if you aren’t going to let me do anything to help?” I sigh. She says nothing. “Just tell me this, what do you want?”

 “I want you,” she says, and this time there’s a guarded honesty in her eyes, a burn that matches the one I feel in my gut whenever I look at the wild creature across from me.

There’s no snide smile on her mouth. No arrogant cock of the head. No fidgeting. Nothing.

My mouth is dry as a bone, and my cock is a fucking traitor to everything I stand for. Everything I believe in.

      “You’re why I come here and you know it,” she says. “I wanted you since you saw my bruises and called the cops even though everyone said you were a jerk for believing me. I wanted you since you got angry they’d hurt me. You were angry, I saw it. And then you were angry with me, and I liked that too. Not angry like Nick and Amir, not angry like that cop who came here and took my stupid statement. Angry like real angry. Angry like you wanted to hit me worse than any stupid bruises on my arms. But you didn’t give up.” She pauses. Breathes. “That’s what I’m doing here.” She uncrosses her legs and lands her muddy boots right back on the carpet. “And that’s the only thing I wanted to say. That, and thanks for trying. See you around, Mr Douglas.”

      She’s up and out of her seat before I’ve collected my words.

 “Wait…” I say, but she holds up a hand. “Moona…”

      But there is only a trail of muddy boot prints in her wake.

      My office door swings on its hinges behind her and there’s already a pair of nervous eyes waiting on the other side.

      I welcome my next appointment and try to brush Moona Avii from my mind.

      We’re done. Finished. I did everything I could. More than I should have.

      Session closed.

      She’s not my problem anymore.

      If only I could believe that were true.