Amelia had everything- family, friends, a promising future- the sky was the limit. But just like that everything was taken from her. One moment she's planning her high school graduation party the next she's laying on a therapist's couch. It was as i...
I knocked on the door of his office and waited for a response.
"Please come in," a deep voice called.
Much to my own surprise, I wasn't feeling a sense of anxiety this time around. There weren't butterflies fluttering in my stomach or chills running up my spine. Instead I felt a deep sensation of deja vu. I couldn't believe I was about to walk back into this man's office.
Perhaps this time you'll have another panic attack and jump out the window instead of running out the door.
I pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear as my eyes went straight for his desk where I expected him to be. Oddly enough his desk was empty. Where was he?
"Dr. Broder-"
"You're late."
"Holy shit!" I jumped back. My heart was beating so frantically inside my chest that I thought it was going to crack a rib.
Dr. Broderick stood in front of the massive bookcase to my left. He rested his body against the side. In his hand he held a thick, hard covered book with frayed pages. How long has he been standing there, watching me?
I gathered my bearings and checked the time on my watch. It was exactly four minutes after ten. He did say ten sharp, but did he really count each minute I wasn't in his office?
"You're late," he repeated.
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"Well, I'm here now," I said with little enthusiasm.
He closed his book and placed it back on the shelf. The corner of his mouth curved upwards into a sexy smirk that could land any sensible woman in his bed.
He sat down behind his desk and gestured to the empty chair in front of him. "Please take a seat, Ms. Peterson."
Hey, I've made it this far into the lion's den, I might as well move closer to the lion.
I took a seat. "Can you explain to me why I'm here?"
A part of me still wasn't so convinced that I drove all the way here just so he could give me a second interview. Keep in mind that my first interview with him didn't exactly go as planned either. The slightest thought of how our conversation turned out the last time made my fingers want to curl. We went from speaking of my intentions, or lack thereof, of never sleeping with the man- to then making a b-line to the elevator. How the hell does one recover from something like that?
Yeah, and here you are sitting in front of the man, right back where you started. So tell me, how do you plan on escaping this time? Oh, I have an idea, how about you take a swan dive out of the window behind his desk?
Was I wrong for actually glancing at the large window behind him? It appeared wide enough for a person to be able to make a quick escape if needed. Unfortunately, I wasn't a hundred percent sure what awaited me at the bottom. I mean aside from certain death.
