Page 6 of A Method to His Madness

Ashley looks down at her lap.

“Everything you say inside this room remains between us. I encourage you both to tell the truth, so we can produce authentic results.”

Ashley clears her throat. “He was…heismy family’s landlord. Two years ago, his father bought the ten acres on which my family’s dairy farm operates and put the land in Waylon’s name. He’s been coming around to collect the payments since then.”

“I’m a businessman.”

“Your dad is a businessman,” Ashley corrects him. “You’re a bill collector who took advantage of your position.”

Waylon turns an angry red. “I did your family afavor. Forgave all that debt—”

“In exchange for a human being!”

“I don’t see the point in this,” Waylon shouts with a mottled complexion. “We got one problem in this marriage and it’s that she won’t fulfill her marital obligations.” He gives Ashley a disgusted once-over. “I got myself a centerfold who acts like an old shrew.”

“I didn’t ask to be in this marriage,” Ashley says, eyes closed. “I wasforced.”

“Well, you’re here now. Why not make the best of it?” Waylon drops his hands, and I watch them carefully, prepared to intervene if they go anywhere fucking near her. “You could do a lot worse than me, you spoiled brat.”

And I’ve heard enough.

The events that led them here have come together like a fucked-up puzzle. Protectiveness over this woman has been a flood in my stomach since meeting her and it has hardened now to iron. This man preyed on her vulnerability, did he? Forced her to marry him, which she obviously did only out of desperation. To save her family farm.

He couldn’t win her heart on his own merit, so he bought her with daddy’s money.

Expects her to thank him.

And he has the nerve to callhera spoiled brat?

I stand up, carefully setting down my clipboard on the seat I just vacated.

There is only one way to deal with this type of man. He is a follower. A simpleton. He only understands one thing with his animal brain.

Hierarchy.

Recognizing the alpha.

It’s why I take three measured steps toward the couch and backhand him across the fucking mouth. “A man speaks to a woman with respect,” I say in a low, authoritarian voice, looking down at him from above, while he gapes at me, in total shock.Good.That’s right, chump. I’m in charge. Now you’re the victim.“Especiallyhis wife. Next time I’m required to warn you, it’ll be with a closed fist. Is that perfectly clear, Waylon?”

“Did you just fucking hit me?” he spits.

“Are you going to cry?” I ask him, eyebrow raised. “Would you like a tissue?”

Face fuchsia, he sputters through a few curse words, looking to his wife, whose wide eyes are trained on me, lips parted. Moist. Knees pressed together.

Tightly.

We’re only beginning, Ashley.

“What kind of shrink is this guy?” Waylon whines, holding his cheek.

“My business card warned you that my methods are unconventional.”

“That’s true. It did,” Ashley whispers. “If I’d known that meant bitch slapping, I would have made an appointment sooner.”

“You shut the—” Waylon starts, coiling. Preparing to strike out at Ashley.

Not me. The man his own size who just slapped him.

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