MATCHMAKER (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance) (27 page)

Only two weeks had gone by since our first session with Fiona, but the more I saw him during our sessions, the more and more my resolve faded. Each time I saw him in the newspaper or on the news, it would increase. I imagined myself in Fiona’s place, a place she didn’t deserve. She was just using him for his money, and I knew it. It would be unethical to tell him, though. Kent was right. He’d have to find out on his own.

My phone vibrated, and my heart leapt. It was him.

Carson Client:
Doc, I need to go away on business. I don’t want to admit it, but I need some help on the trip. I’ve been too jumpy to do anything lately.

I took a deep breath and texted him back.

Katie Warren LPC:
Mr. Carson, I do sometimes help clients through difficult trips. Can we do it from the phone, or do you feel that you need me to accompany you?

Carson Client:
It’s urgent that you come for emotional support. Please don’t make me ask again.

Katie Warren LPC:
Meet me at my office in two hours if you would like to discuss this further. I have a staff meeting shortly after.

Carson Client
:
OK. See you there.

People with his condition were jumpy and paranoid. It might really help him to have a trusted someone traveling with him to provide therapy and support. Of course, if we could do it by phone, that would be best. He could easily accuse me of abandonment, though, but his request was bizarre, so I was sure no one would blame me if I didn’t go with him.

Ugh. Who was I kidding? This was totally inappropriate. People would blame me if I
did
go with him, not if I didn’t. This was clearly crossing the line, and no matter what lies I tried to tell myself, I knew it well. This was not ethical or professional. If I had read about this kind of a thing in class, my professors would have pointed a finger at the counselor as being at fault.

Nonetheless, I was thrilled to see him. I put on my best red business skirt set and smoothed my hair. I applied red lipstick for good measure and put on my glasses. I looked hot and I knew it. I was trying to look hot for myself, of course, not for him.

Just keep telling yourself that.

I was glad I had my umbrella; it was raining heavily outside, one of those weird rains while the sun was still out. A beautiful rain. The train took forever, especially since I was nearly spilling out of my dress with anticipation. Everything around me looked the same as always, but I felt so different. The charge and spark that Billy fostered in me was like nothing I had ever felt.

My feet were sore by the time I got to the office. It was dark inside. He was waiting for me. The receptionist sat reading a book, looking bored and idle. I waved hello to her and got out the keys to my office.

“Come on in and get yourself settled,” I instructed.

I could feel his eyes on my back, much like I had that day in Times Square. Only this time, it was real. Guilty, delicious thoughts of him enjoying my outfit crept into my mind. I pushed them down and took a seat, resuming my professional role.

“Where are you going?” I asked him.

“California. My flight leaves tomorrow. I have a big deal to seal.” His face was pale and ashen.

“What’s going on in your head?”

“I thought I would try to let myself be vulnerable, like you said, so here it is… When I’m in a new place, I feel really out of control. I am jumpy and feel like someone is going to come up behind me at any minute. I wouldn’t normally ask this of you, but I need to make this deal happen.”

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. What was I going to do?

“Your trip is paid for, and I will pay your salary for that day plus extra,” he added.

Before, I thought he was just trying to get me into bed. Now, I wasn’t so sure of his intentions. My heart betrayed me by sinking. I snapped out of the sinking feeling.

“Okay, Billy. I’ll consider it.”

I should have said no. I should have pushed him away and told him that it was over and that I would have to refer him to another counselor. This was not professional and could have serious implications for us both, but I couldn’t seem to bring myself to say no.

He paused, a smile lighting up his face.

“What?” I snapped.

“You just called me by my name, Doc.”

My face reddened. Damn him for noticing. I hoped he didn’t notice my embarrassment, but his grin said otherwise. I cleared my throat. “Well, that is your name, isn’t it?” I stood up and paced my office. “I can only go with you if I can reschedule two of my other sessions booked this week.”

“I’ll pay them if I have to,” he said.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I can. While we’re here, though, we should have a session. Sound good?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. There’s some stuff I should probably talk about anyway.”

“Like?”

“You.”

I gulped.
Oh, God
. “What about me?”

“I can confide in you about anything without you telling anyone, right?” he asked.

“Yes, of course. But if it’s information that can harm you or someone else, I will have to breach that confidence.”

He laughed. “No. It won’t harm you, not in the least. It wouldn’t harm anyone else either, because I would never cheat on Fiona.”

“Okay. Go ahead.” I tried to ignore my thudding heart. Fuck.

“I’m jealous of something I saw a few weeks ago. At the coffee shop. You were there with that guy, and I thought about how lucky he was to have you.”

I tensed in my chair, my hand faltering around my pen. “Jealous of my colleague—that we were having coffee?”

“Yes. He doesn’t seem like he’d know what to do with you. You’re too feisty for him. I’ll have to bravely tell you that yes, it made me jealous.”

My heart raced with desire. I tried to remain objective and professional, but it was so hard when I looked at his big arms and bright eyes.

“Thank you for sharing that with me. This is also a form of transference. Did you get jealous in your other relationships?”

His eyes lit up as if in recognition. “Now that you mention it, yes. But I never had a reason to be. I can satisfy my women.”

I wrote down that there was jealousy in his past.

“I imagine making you scream with my tongue. Is that terrible?” he asked seductively.

“You are crossing the line. You can’t tell me stuff like that,” I warned him. I wasn’t sure who I was warning, though him or me. I was growing wetter and stickier by the minute.

“Okay.” He moved back into his seat.

“Anything else bothering you?” I asked.

“Yes. Fiona. I suspect something. I think there’s someone else,” he confessed.

I nearly dropped my pen. Now I really had to work hard to maintain my composure. “What makes you say that?”

“She’s different. Less aroused. She’s secretive about her phone. To tell you the truth, my son may be right.”

“Right about what?” I inquired.

“Right about whether or not she loves me for me or for my money.”

“What do you think?”

“My mother and Sophia are the only two people besides my son that I know love me for me.”

“That must be a hard feeling to deal with, considering she’s your partner,” I commented.

“It is. I wanted her to come on the trip, but I can’t allow her to see me like this. She thinks I’m broken, and every time I slip up, she’s there to throw it in my face.”

His demeanor changed. He was angry—venting. I let him continue, knowing how important it was for him to feel safe telling me all of this… as a therapist of course, not a lover. I recalled learning in class about dual relationships and how damaging they could be to the counseling process, and now I could see why.

“Nothing is ever enough for her. When I try to come to her for support—when I can bring myself to do that—she is never there for me.” He looked horribly dejected.

“Do people always have such high expectations of you?” I asked.

“My whole life. I’ve always been the hero. I have always taken care of everyone, like I told you before.”

“That must add a lot of stress for you. This business deal must be important, not only for your professional reputation, but for your personal reputation as well.”

He nodded gravely. “Yes. It’s vital that I make this work.”

I sighed, knowing very well that the one patient I had tomorrow was flakey and that the other one I had just made up. “Okay, I’ll go with you.”

He smiled his beautifully white, picture-perfect smile. I wanted to choke on my coffee.

“Great. Everything is already taken care of.”

“What time will we meet tomorrow?” I asked. I tried to keep my voice neutral and even. I wanted to burst with delight, though. Going on a trip with a billionaire was not part of my job description.

That’s because it shouldn’t be. Because it’s wrong and unethical.

“If you want, we can meet here. Gretta, my driver, can take us to the airport, and we will go from there.”

“It’s an overnight trip, correct?” I asked with a cool tone.

“Yes. Today is Wednesday, right?” I raised my eyebrow at him. “I told you I feel like I’m outside of my body sometimes,” he told me, shrugging. “My sense of time is bad as a result.”

“Yes, today is Wednesday,” I informed him.

“Okay, then you’ll be back by Friday.”

“Good. I’ll see you then, Mr. Carson.”

***

The next morning, I felt like butterflies were fluttering all over my body. I felt like a child again, standing in front of my office with a single suitcase. It reminded me of my first trip to New York. Everything was new and threatening. I tried so hard not to give off an innocent vibe—which I knew was likely rolling off of me in waves. I didn’t want to be exposed to attack. I had to put my shield up so that none of those new experiences could change me.

Last night, I had wanted to speak to Kent about the trip. I wanted his coaching, his sanity. But I couldn’t talk to him. Instead, I coached myself, knowing that without strict adherence to a set code of boundaries, unique situations like these could get out of hand. Luckily for me, I had no intention of letting them get out of hand. I had huddled over my dissertation, looking at my steps on how to mend broken boundaries. This experience could prove to be valuable for my thesis.

I was grounded again—until he pulled up in his fancy car. Through the tinted window, I could see his perfect face, framed by the window. His eyes jumped out at me. A woman with a kind face sat in the front. She waved in a motherly way, the kind of greeting a mother would give her children when she picked them up from soccer practice.

He opened the door and let me scoot over next to him. I was so close. My heart immediately went into a waltz, as it did whenever I saw him. I was suddenly self-conscious.
Does my hair look good? My outfit? Does my breath smell?
I tried to ward off these thoughts.

“Good morning, Doc,” he said. “This is Gretta, my good friend who doubles as my driver.” He winked. “Gretta, this is my therapist, Katie, who has been such a help to me.”

Gretta smiled a pearly white smile, and I could tell she’d had some work done on her teeth. It touched me that he had likely paid for it. He treated his employees very well. No matter how cold and gruff he could seem, he had a kind heart.

“Hi, Gretta. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Did he tell you I’m nothing but trouble?” Gretta joked.

“Of course.” We laughed, and I instantly felt comfortable with her.

I wondered what it would be like to be with him, as his partner and not his therapist. Could I really get used to this luxurious lifestyle? I certainly would always work for a living. I loved my line of work. But the idea of running off into the sunset with him was appealing. I would throw my degree away and give it all up for him—my degree, something I loved more than anything else, something I worked so hard for.

Then don’t risk losing it,
I reminded myself.

My phone pinged. I glanced down to check my phone and ignored the email.

“You have two phones?” Billy asked. I looked up at him, noticing how very close we were.

“Yes. One for my personal life and one for my professional life.”

“Must get expensive,” he joked.

Was he hoping I’d give him my own private number? Well, fuck, I wanted to. He had no idea. I patted him gently on the arm, underestimating the effect touching him would have on me. Every single time any part of my body touched his, I burned hotter with desire.

“We have a lot to think about. Are you nervous about the trip?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the wetness welling up between my legs.

“I hope you like the plane. It’s one of the best,” he replied ignoring my question.

What did he mean by he hoped I liked the plane? This slipped my mind until I realized we weren’t heading to LaGuardia Airport. Maybe Newark Airport in New Jersey? I leaned back in my seat and tried to close my eyes, hoping this would ease some of the sexual tension I felt rolling off of us both in waves.