Unveiled
Page 100

‘Mummy prefers me in lazy clothes,’ I remind him, laughing to myself when he tuts his disapproval. I dread to think how many suits I’ve bought over the years, all beautiful, yet she still takes a tatty pair of jeans any day of the week.
The lift dings and the doors open onto the reception area of the therapist’s office. ‘Here we are!’ He darts out, pulling me with him. My heartbeat returns to normal quickly and I soon find myself hauled across the room to the receptionist’s desk. ‘Hello!’ Harry chirps.
My boy could bring a smile to the face of the world’s most miserable person, I’m sure. And the therapist’s receptionist is the world’s most miserable person. She’s formidable, yet unleashes smiles to my boy like there’s no tomorrow. ‘Harry Hart! What a pleasure!’
‘How are you, Anne?’
‘All the better for seeing you. Would you like to take a seat?’
‘Certainly. Come on, Dad.’
I’m led to two spare seats, but I’m not graced with an adoring smile from Anne as I nod my greeting. Her cheerful persona slips away the second her stare moves from Harry to me. ‘Mr Hart,’ she practically growls, leaving no room for further conversation when she focuses on her computer screen and starts tapping at the keyboard. She looks like a Russian weightlifter and behaves like a bulldog. I don’t like her.
Pulling the legs of my trousers up, I take a seat next to Harry and spend some time absorbing our surroundings. It’s relatively quiet, as it always is when we’re here at the end of the day. Our only company is a nervous lady, known as Wendy, who refuses to look anyone in the eye, not even Harry when he’s persistently tried to chat with her. He’s given up now, and refers to her as Weird Wendy.
‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ Harry tells me, wandering over to the kids’ corner, where Lego bricks are all packed neatly away. That will soon change. I relax back in my chair and watch him tip the box over and scatter them everywhere, passing a quick glance to Weird Wendy when Anne barks an order for her to proceed into the doctor’s office.
She scurries off quickly, leaving me and my boy the only occupants of the waiting area, Anne aside.
I close my eyes and see sapphires everywhere – bright, brilliant, beautiful sapphires and wild blonde locks. It’s a beauty that’s so raw and pure, it defies me ever being blessed by it. But she is mine. And every fucked-up little piece of me belongs to her. I accept that wholeheartedly now. I smile, hearing the click of Lego bricks from across the room. And so is he.
‘Mr Hart?’
I jump in my chair at the sound of an impatient voice, my eyes flying open to find Anne towering above my seated form. I stand quickly, not liking feeling so vulnerable under her narrowed eyes. ‘Yes?’
‘She’s ready for you.’ She sniffs and stalks away, snatching her handbag up from behind her desk and disappearing into a waiting lift.
I shudder, then seek out Harry, finding him at the door, his hand resting on the handle waiting to enter. ‘Hurry, Daddy! We’ll be late.’
I snap into action and follow Harry into the office, grimacing when the sense of a million people’s problems hit me like a wrecking ball. It’s lingering in the air, and a chill resonates through me as a result. I’m still befuddled as to why this happens every time. The room is plush, with soft furnishings at every turn. It’s warm and inviting, but I still feel uncomfortable. I hate coming here. There’s one problem, though. Harry loves it and this woman here keeps inviting him. Personally, I think she simply gets a huge power trip out of sitting behind this huge plush desk and watching me squirm.
I groan to myself and drop my arse to the chair opposite her desk, and Harry does the same, but where I’m irritated and pouting, he is grinning madly. It penetrates my foul mood a little and I find my lips twitching at the corners as a result.
‘Hello, Harry,’ she says. Her voice is like honey, all smooth and calming. I can’t see her, I can just hear her voice, but when her swivel chair starts to turn and she comes into view, her sheer beauty renders me stupid for a few moments. And damn if my cock starts dancing in my trousers.
‘Hi, Mummy,’ Harry sings, his eyes bright and happy now he has his mother to fuss over him. ‘We’ve come to take you home. Have you had a good day?’
She breaks out in the most stunning smile, her navy eyes that match my boy’s sparkling like diamonds. ‘I’ve had a wonderful day, made all the better now you’re here.’ She flicks those delicious eyes in my direction. Her cheeks are flushed. I want to pounce and worship her right now. Her wide smile turns coy and she crosses one leg over the other. ‘Good evening, Mr Hart.’
I straighten my lips and shift in my chair, trying to conjure up reasonable thoughts in a vain attempt to remain composed in front of my boy. ‘Good evening, Mrs Hart.’
Every blessed shard of light that’s engulfed our lives since we met collides across the desk and detonates. It makes my back straighten and my heart race. This woman, pure, raw, and innocently perfect, has given me more pleasure than I ever thought possible. Not just through intimacy, but also from the sheer joy of being the object of her affection. I’m the centre of her world. And she is the absolute core of mine.
I watch Harry jump down from the chair and wander over to the bookshelves. ‘How was your day?’ I ask.
‘Tiring. And I need to study some more when we’re home.’
It takes everything out of me to refrain from rolling my eyes, knowing I’ll be attacked by her sass if I expose my exasperation. This job is only part time, but she doesn’t need to work here. She insists it’s good for her studies – gives her a sense of what to expect when she qualifies as a therapist, but all I see is her burning herself out. I can’t deny her, though. She wants to help people.
‘Will you have an office like this?’ I cast my eyes around the partner’s office. We hijack it every Wednesday at six.
‘Might do.’
I return my eyes to hers, grinning wickedly. ‘Can I still call you my therapist when you really are one?’
‘No, that would be a massive conflict of interest.’
I scowl. ‘But you help me de-stress.’
‘Hardly on a professional level!’ She laughs, then lowers her voice, leaning over the desk. ‘Or are you suggesting I should allow all of my patients to worship me?’
My shock is clear. ‘No one else gets to taste you,’ I virtually growl, the thought sending me to a maddening place I have avoided for a long time.
But I snap a lid on it when Harry jumps back onto the chair next to me, looking at me in cute curiosity. ‘OK, Daddy?’
I ruffle his hair, ignoring Olivia giggling across the desk. ‘Perfect, mate.’
‘Are you ready to go home, Mummy?’ he asks.
‘Not just yet.’ She reaches for the remote control and I immediately fear the worst. ‘Shall we?’ she asks on a wry smile.
I can feel my boy’s eyes on my profile as I stare at my love, so I slowly turn to him, finding that familiar exasperated look plaguing his gorgeous face. ‘I don’t think we have a choice,’ I remind him, knowing he already knows this.
‘She’s mad,’ he breathes tiredly.