Page 52 of The Keeper

Then again, I should just ask her about her life instead of always trying to shag her. Be an actual gentleman.

When I found her social media accounts all bets were off. I loved looking at her photos. She’s always smiling. It’s infectious in photos but even more enchanting in person. I can’t get enough of it. I can’t get enough of her.

I wonder if she’s done any searching about me…

“You seem preoccupied.”

Dr. Frances’s observation jolted me.

He turned to look at what I was apparently staring blankly at.

“That’s been in my family for years. My great-grandfather was a master at oil paintings.”

I had no idea what the hell he was blathering on about. Focusing on the wall across from the couch, a painting came into view. It was intricate but there was nothing extraordinary about it. Just a landscape painting of an old, rundown farmhouse covered in snow.

“I hear you like to fix up old places like that.”

“Yeah, in my spare time. I don’t make a big deal out if it though.”

“So I was told.”

“Seems you’ve been told a lot about me already. No need for me to fill in any more blanks.”

Frances stared at me for a beat then started writing something down in his notepad.

“Oh Jesus, not the writing.” I groaned.

“Well, you’re not talking so I’m just observing.”

I scrubbed my hands on my face, running them through my hair. “I have nothing to say.” I shrugged. “There’s no big mysterious thing I’m hiding.”

“Mmhmm.” He kept writing for a few seconds and then regarded me with interest. “I’m giving you homework.”

“Are you serious?” I snorted. “What is this, primary school?”

“No, Xavier, this is me helping you get to the root of whatever’s plaguing you. I watched your press conference today. That reporter’s question threw you. You haven’t said one word about it yet.”

I swore under my breath. The goddam fight was going to follow me to the grave. Launching my own company didn’t make it disappear, though it did give the media something else to obsess over. Namely, my net worth. Twenty million pounds, thanks for asking. Next question.

“He didn’t throw me. I wanted to make sure I said all the right things—“

“Like you’re doing now. This isn’t a press conference. Nobody is coaching you on what to say or what not to say here. This is a safe space.” He paused and shook his head. “I know you don’t like hearing that but it is. I’m not your opponent. I’m also not going to force you to be vulnerable but when the time comes, I’ll be here to listen. No judgment.”

I clenched my jaw watching him make a few more notes.

“So,” Dr. Frances continued, “Your homework. If and when something else throws you off, don’t dismiss it. Don’t ignore it. Really feel it. We can talk about it during our next session.”

I white-knuckled the steering wheel of my car driving back to my flat.

Really feel it.

Yeah, whatever.

“Not a bad view, kid,” Bennet grinned, reaching for a beer. He settled into the chair facing Tower Bridge and let out a satisfied sigh.

My balcony held some of the most luxurious views of the city. “It doesn’t suck,” I agreed, grabbing my own drink.

“How’s everything with Dr. Frances?”

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