Her wicked plan, p.10
Her Wicked Plan, page 10
His words replay in my mind as I prepare for my session with Veronica. Scarlet probably wants nothing like that. She is probably only looking for a friend, and I would be okay with that.
It’s been two weeks since our run-in during dinner. For the past four sessions, I’ve tried to talk with her about Eliza or her sister, and she shut me down. I even attempted to bring up her parents.
That was worse than the other two options. Veronica had put on that mask she wears well and didn’t talk to me the rest of the time. She either sat there with her eyes shut or at the window bench and stared at the lake.
I was fine with it, even though I told her she would have to discuss uncomfortable topics the next time we met. The silence was welcomed. She wanted to be quiet and not talk about her issues?
Fine.
Her sitting there pretending to sulk means she wouldn’t make any more flirtatious comments. The silence was nice while it lasted. I’m here to do a job, which means today, she will speak on whatever I bring up.
I stare at the notepad on my desk with the questions I want to ask Veronica: about her sister, Eliza, her parents, and the murder she committed. The list is short, but each topic has a long explanation.
The recorder is sitting neatly next to the pad of paper; that way, I can listen to the conversation after the session and take more notes on the things I missed.
In the top drawer sits a new journal for her. Edith had added it to the list of things she would order for the upcoming weeks. I spent a little extra time searching for the perfect journal.
Twenty minutes turned into hours as I scrolled through different options. Who knew there were multitudes of journals out there?
What I was really getting stuck on was the cover. The one Veronica owned was decorated with a dark forest with creatures hidden behind trees and bushes; some were more visible than others.
Was I supposed to get her a blank journal or find an art design she would like? I ended up going with the first one. It was black, bound in leather, with a red ribbon sewn in to keep her place when she finished writing.
Black and red seemed to scream her name.
A knock sounded on my office door, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Come in!”
The handle turns, and Edith holds the door open for Veronica. I had asked if Edith could escort her to my office today, as I had meetings with Dr. Bennett earlier, and I wouldn’t have had the time to grab her from the common area.
I thank Edith kindly before she closes the door. Veronica walks to the chair for patients. She sits right down, which I didn’t expect.
She relaxes in her chair with a hint of a smile—the one she wore two weeks ago when she told me I looked stressed. She offered to help me with my stress. I knew she was saying those things to get under my skin, and she did.
It’s horrible that I even thought about how she could have helped me relieve the burning stress in my body. I had to shake those thoughts out of my head. She is my patient, for Christ's sake.
“Dr. Madden?” Her voice breaks through the barrier of my mind.
I hum in response, my eyes lifting from the paper to her face and down her body. A tight gray T-shirt paired with matching sweats.
With how Dr. Bennett likes to keep things normal around here, I’m surprised he won’t allow them to wear different colors other than the neutrals.
My eyes drift back up to hers; a playful grin is now on her face. Fuck, she probably assumed I was checking her out. “You were lost in thought. Want to tell me what was on your mind?”
I don’t hold back the laugh at her playing the therapist. “As I’ve said, the sessions aren’t about me.”
“I know,” she admits. “But you listen to all of my problems. Who listens to yours?”
“My best friend,” I answer her honestly. “He is always the one I go to with my issues or my mother.”
She clicks her tongue. “A momma’s boy?”
“No.” Maybe. “She just always knows the right thing to say.”
Why am I opening up to her like this? Maybe it will help when I ask her questions. If I’m open and honest, she will be, too.
“What does she think about you working in a place like this?” Veronica asks, her hands draped over the arms of the chair.
I relax back in my seat. “She’s proud of me. She told me I was given this job for a reason and that if anyone could help a patient in need, then it would be me.”
A soft chuckle escapes her. She doesn’t have to say it aloud to me to know what she is thinking. She can’t be fixed. None of the patients I’ve worked with thought they could be, but I always proved them wrong.
“Word of affirmation.” The sentence threw me for a loop. “Is that your love language or whatever they call it? You like to be told you’re doing a good job?”
Swallowing hard, I clear my throat and lean forward. “Why don’t we start the session for today?”
I press the red button on the recorder and pick up my pen. “How often do you think about what you’ve done?”
Her eyes narrow in confusion. “You’ll have to be more specific, Leo. I’ve done a lot of things.”
“Such as?” The tip of my pen rested against the paper.
“Well, there is the obvious one. That I killed that guy.” She shrugs. “Or maybe you are talking about the way I threatened Eliza.” Veronica’s eyes light up as her arms fall from where they were resting and into her lap. She’s being very talkative today. It's strange. Take it as a good sign, Leo. “Or it could be what I’ve been doing before bed every night. How I’ve been touching myself until I pass out from the pleasure.”
My cheeks heat, pushing back the images she is planting inside my head. Nope. I’m no longer taking her sudden adoration for talking as a good sign.
“Want to know what I was thinking about?”
I have a feeling I already know what she is going to say.
“Option one.” I clear my throat again. “How often do you think about the man you killed?”
“What makes you think I waste my thoughts on that man?” Her voice turns from flirty to harsh in a millisecond. She doesn’t want to talk about it but too fucking bad. Like I said, I’m done with her pushing the questions to the side.
“I just wanted to know if you felt anything when you thought about it?”
“I feel nothing about what I did to him.” She states. “Unless you are talking about my nightly activities. I would be more than happy to discuss my feelings.”
“Veronica,” I warn.
“I can tell in your eyes that you are curious.” That coy tone is back in her voice. “Are you thinking about it? Imagining it?”
“What about your sister?” I change the subject, blocking out the images of her touching herself. “How often do you think about her?”
Veronica huffs out a breath of defeat. “More than I’d like to.”
Okay. That's a good answer. “Have you spoken to her since you’ve been here? Any visits or letters?”
She laughs.
“What’s so funny?” I lift a brow.
“That you think she’d want to come see me. You didn’t see the look in her eyes when she found out I had killed her boyfriend. Pure horror and disgust. She won’t come see me.”
“What about your parents?” It’s risky to ask about them, but seeing as she opens up about her sister, I need to try.
“They took her side.” Her eyes leave mine to look around the office. “Golden child and all. I think they were relieved they had the opportunity to send me away. They didn’t have to deal with me anymore and could let someone else do it. I’m sure they probably forgot all about me. A life without Demon Veronica.”
“Your parents called you that?” Hurt laces in my voice for the woman before me. The emotion wraps around my throat and squeezes tight. There is no reason to call her that, even with what she has done.
“My sister did. When we were younger. I was ten, and she was fourteen. Stephanie had her tight-knit group of friends and was ashamed of me when her friends were over. I was different. Always had been, and she hated that. She wanted a normal sister growing up to play Barbies with. Not a sister who would tear their heads off and dangle them from her bedroom ceiling with strings.” Veronica giggles at the memory. “She was terrified of the decorations and upset that I dismembered her dolls. When she confronted me about it, I only laughed. She told me I was sick and twisted.”
“So she gave you that nickname?”
“Our parents were more on the religious side. I never wanted to attend church every Sunday morning because what the hell was the point? I don’t believe in that shit, and I made it known to my family. Stephanie had told me that there was no way I was our parents’ daughter and that my mother couldn’t have birthed me. She said that I was sent up from Hell—a child of Satan. A demon sent to wander the earth and terrorize those who habit it.”
My heart breaks a little for her. She didn’t deserve to be treated that way, but after speaking the last sentence, her face was filled with a proud grin.
“It didn’t hurt, the things she called me.” Veronica searches my eyes, seeing the sadness filling them. “Even with the nasty things she said to me when her friends were around, Stephanie was still my older sister. It got to the point where I wanted to do everything I could to protect her. I’m not sure why, given how cruel she was to me. Maybe it was to prove I differed from what she thought.”
“Which is why you killed her boyfriend.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“He was a dick and didn’t deserve her.” Her jaw clenches tight. “Being the golden child, she deserves the best. She wasn’t meant to be with him.”
“Is seeing your sister something you would want?” Veronica’s whole body tenses at the question.
“Even if I did, she wouldn’t show.”
“What if you wrote her a letter? Write everything you feel now or felt in the past. You don’t have to send it if you don't want to. It might be therapeutic to write it all down.”
“And then do what with it?”
“Crumble it up and throw it away. Flush it down the toilet.”
“Burn it?” Excitement fills her voice.
“That wouldn’t be an option here.”
“Bummer.” She huffs. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to write the letter. And if I decide I want to send it?”
“Then I will get it sent out," I reassure her.
Her head is nodding slowly, debating on what to do. “Okay, I’ll write a letter.”
Progress.
“Good.” I let a smile form on my lips. “I almost forgot, I have something for you.”
Veronica's eyebrow pops up with curiosity while she watches me open the top drawer. I remove the new journal and slide it over the desk's surface. Her eyes drop to the object and then back up to me.
“Your other one got ruined with the pen you were using. I figured I would get you a new one.”
“Why?” She hasn’t made a move to pick it up.
“Seeing as it happened when we first met, I felt it was my fault it got ruined.” Reaching into the same drawer, I reveal a silver Sharpie. “I remember reading in your file that you liked to draw. I figured you could use this to make your own cover.”
Veronica stares at the Sharpie I set next to her new journal. My gaze falls to her chest, rising and falling heavily. Her throat bobs as she swallows. “Thank you.”
“There's no need to thank me,” I say dismissively. “You can write a letter to your sister in that.”
“I can’t.” She immediately turns down my suggestion. “If I do, I’d have to tear the pages out, and the journal would be ruined again.”
Interesting.
“Okay, then I’ll provide you with the paper.”
She finally picks up the journal and places it in her lap. “What else are we going to discuss today?”
“We can talk about Eliza,” I offer.
Her tongue sticks out in disgust. “No, thanks.”
“What is wrong with Eliza?”
“She’s too perky. It makes me tempted to yank my hair out. I can barely handle the seconds she is around me, and if I spend more time with her, as you suggested, then I’d go bald. Or she’d end up dead.”
“You would kill her?”
“No.” Lie.
“This isn’t your first incident with someone in the kitchen.”
“You heard about that?”
“I know more about you than you think.” I lift my eyes to her. “You stabbed someone before.”
Her head teeters back and forth as she recalls the situation. “But I didn’t kill her.”
“That you didn’t. You punctured her spleen.” I state. “Why?”
“I was minding my own business, trying to do my duty in the kitchen, when she approached me. She had been pushing my buttons for a while, trying to assert her dominance over me. I guess you'd say to knock me down on the social ladder.” Her eyes roll before continuing.
“I’m not one to sit back and take shit from people. Especially when they threaten me. Cassie wouldn’t shut up. I had enough. I snapped at her, but when she punched me in the face… that’s what really sent me over the edge. I picked up the knife I was using and sunk it deep into her skin. Her eyes were wide with shock, like she wasn’t expecting me to hurt her.” She laughs evilly. “Serves her right. No one messed with me after that.”
“You say that you don’t take shit from anyone, but yet you let your sister walk all over you.” I point out.
“She is my sister, Leo.” Her eyes focus fully on me. “Stephanie may be a bitch, but I would never lay a hand on her. I could never kill her. Don’t you have siblings you would do anything for?”
“Good to know that there is a person out there you wouldn’t hurt.” I jot that information down. “And yes. I have a sister.”
“A sister.” She repeats my words to herself. The idea of me having a sibling is a revelation to her. She stays silent but then speaks soft enough for me almost to miss it. “There are four people I’d never hurt.”
“Who are the others?”
“My sister, of course. Dr. Bennett and Edith. Then there’s you.” she admits. “I don’t think I’d ever hurt you.”
Relief floods me. I was worried about how on and off she was with her anger because, with the anger in her little body, Veronica could physically hurt me.
I knew this, but hearing her say she doesn’t think she’d be able to cause me physical harm makes me feel good—like I’m earning her trust.
“That means a lot coming from you.” I decide to tell her.
She smiles half-heartedly. “Do I need to be escorted to your office for every session? Can’t Edith unlock the door for me and leave me to it?”
“They don’t want you sneaking into other offices.”
“I wouldn’t. I’ll come straight to you.”
“I’ll talk with Edith.”
“Thank you. Is there anything else, or are we done?”
“We can be done for the day if you have something more important to do,” I joke, knowing there isn’t anything else for her to do today. An arts and crafts event is being held, but it’s not somewhere Veronica would be.
“Trust me, Leo, I could stay here and stare at you all day.” Jesus. “But I think I’d like to return to my room to write that letter.”
Her response surprises me. I wasn’t expecting her to want to write it so soon. Nodding, I take a couple of loose pieces of paper and hand them to her. “I don’t expect you to show me the letter. It is personal.”
“And the journal? Do you plan to read that?” She stands, the journal and paper tucked at her side.
“Again, what you write in your journal is private. For your eyes only.”
“Okay." She says before asking. “Do I need you to walk me to the door?”
“Let's use this as a trial of you escorting yourself from my office. If you leave the hall without peeking or going into another doctor's office, you can start walking yourself here.”
Veronica smirks and says two words seductively that shoot straight down to my dick before she leaves my office. “Yes, sir.”
CHAPTER 12
Leo
That session went better than expected.
I didn’t think she would agree with writing a letter to her sister since talking about Stephanie is a touchy subject. I am beyond proud that she agreed to this.
I’m hoping that she doesn’t decide to toss it in the trash once it’s written. If she mails it out, it could be the closure her sister, and maybe Veronica, needs.
Instead of returning to my room after wrapping up work in my office, I took myself outside for some fresh air. As soon as my foot passed the threshold of the main door, ringing blared from my pocket.
Looking at the name, I groan with annoyance. Myles seriously has the worst timing. Yes, he is my best friend, and I love talking to him, but I want to relax.
To sit by the water and clear my head. Ever since Scarlet mentioned that was what she did after a long day, I’ve been itching to sit by the lake.
Did it have anything to do with the fact Scarlet might be out here? Possibly.
Ignoring his calls is an option, but then again, that means I will have to ignore all the other ten times he calls me, not to mention the thousands of text messages he will end up sending me.
“Perfect timing, as always.” I greet him as the phone presses against my ear. I attempt to keep my tone light. To hide the agitation behind the fake joking.
“Shit, are you in the middle of a session with your hot patient?” he questions, making Veronica's face pop into my head.
“I never said she was hot.” My eyes roll into the back of my head, along with an image of her.
“You said she was pretty, which could be a better way to compliment a woman than saying she is hot." He points out. “What about the nurse? Have you talked to her more?”
Kicking a small rock out of my path, I say, “We talked briefly in the hallway the other day.”
“Oh, my God.” Myles exaggerates his words. “Why does that sound so damn professional?” He sighs before he mimics me, “I talked to her briefly about wanting to stick my dick inside of her. She agreed, and then we shook on the business deal.”
