Page 9 of See Me After Class

I frowned, her disclosure surprising me. "That must've slipped my attention. What I did note, however, was the surprising youthfulness. You're very young to have your own practice."

"My clientele mirrors my youth. To them, anyone over fifteen is practically ancient," she deadpanned, the closest she'd come to a joke. Even this was marred by her lifeless eyes and an austere mouth that seemed incapable of humor.

"This establishment is primarily a research institute." I shrugged. "Those who still manage patients do so upon referral from larger organizations. Our credibility lies in our academic programs. Do you think you could adjust to a life without the business of practice?"

Her silence persisted, offering no answer to my question, which trailed off to an awkward death. My patience thinned, and my hand involuntarily stroked my upper lip in frustration.

"Well," I started, breaking the silence, "the crux of the matter is whether you will be happy here. Do you foresee that?"

She held my gaze unblinking. "Happy? No," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But the work, I believe, will bring satisfaction."

Her icy gaze hinted at an underlying fire, a wild fury cloaked beneath the cool exterior.

I revised my initial perceptions. She was more than a trust-fund baby. Her nature hinted at her being potentially a problem child herself, possibly worse. Her affluent background could've conveniently erased any past indiscretions.

"I see," I responded, meeting her chilling stare head-on.

Trouble incarnate, I thought,and she's the last thing this place needs.

"I'll begin unpacking if we're finished here," she asserted, effectively dismissing me. The corners of my lips twitched.

"Then let me extend a warm welcome to the Institute, Miss Davenport," I replied, my tone an exaggerated mimicry of her polished accent. "Thrilled to have you join our humble family."

She was already on her feet but drew in her breath with a small hiss at that. I looked down involuntarily.

Long white fingers curled with vicious intent into the sanded surface of my desk and left the mark of a nail dragging down. Just the one.

My gaze followed her as she retreated, her gaunt shoulders outlined by her austere black jacket, a stark resemblance to a malnourished Victorian orphan.

Likely, a rigorous dieting regime for vanity's sake.

An inexplicable wave of sympathy washed over me.

And also, she's not nearly as unattractive as you first thought, and maybe she's not that shallow, either, despite coming from money and possessing no real talent or ambition that anyone can see, I said to myself with scathing contempt.

God in heaven, what was wrong with me today? It wasn't like me to be so indecisive.

Forget her, I ordered my unruly subconscious. It was Monday, and there was plenty to do without worrying about this strange little rich girl doing her impression of Jane Eyre on the premises.

I had my own responsibilities, the mundane tasks of the institute and correspondences with the board of trustees, all in the wake of Oswald's departure.

And therein lay the true problem.Oswald.

The man who had plunged us into this chaos and left me to unravel it.

Oswald, the idealistic visionary with a bottomless bank account and a relentless sense of entitlement. Oswald, theprofessional nuisance who'd endowed a research facility with millions in his lifetime and who took it all away when he died.

In retrospect, if Oswald's will had been public knowledge, I would have?—

The voice inside my head spoke once again.

There, there. What's done is done. You just need to find a way to get out of this mess.

4

Leon

"What do you mean, it wasn't serious?"

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