Page 201 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
When Hugo pulls his beloved baby in the front of a brown brick building in a business complex in Ravenshoe, I shift my curious gaze to him. Compared to the elaborate houses and apartment blocks he’s taken me to the past few weeks, this one is run down and dated. Not speaking a word, he unlatches his belt, opens the driver’s side door, and peels out of his car.
I mimic his movements, my lips quirking in suspicion the further we travel down the concrete path. The foyer inside the office building isn’t any more glamorous than the outside. There’s a wooden staircase that’s overdue to be re-varnished on my right, a hallway table covered with pamphlets to my left, plaques of therapist names and their specialties tacked to brown wooden doors that line the corridor.
When Hugo spots my uneased expression, he tries to settle it. “Don’t let the outdated surroundings fool you. Avery is very good at what she does. She’s just one of the rare few who refuses to work for Isaac exclusively.”
My brows shoot up into the air.“Isaac needs a full-time therapist on his payroll?”
Hugo’s boisterous chuckle bounces around the desolate space. “Not for him. Avery is for his staff and family.”
“Then why does he want her to be exclusive?”
“Isaac believes exclusivity comes with an invisible clause of loyalty attached to it.” Hugo takes a seat in one of the many hard plastic chairs lining the corridor before leaning his elbows on his knees. “If one person was your only source of bread and butter, would you bite the hand that feeds?”
“No, but not everyone is that smart. People get greedy.”
He nods, his smile picking up. “Yes, they do, but that’s why Isaac rewards his staff for their dedication and loyalty.”
I shoot him a confused look. “You can buy loyalty?”
“No, you can’t, but Isaac has a knack for reading people. Add that to his business ethics and bucket-loads of cash, and you have a formula for a very successful empire. When his staff gains his trust, they’re awarded for it. If they lose it, they loseeverything.”
My heart drops into my stomach as moisture burns my eyes. “I lost his trust.”
“You don’t count,” Hugo assures with a chuckle. “For one, you’re not a member of his staff, and two, you didn’t lose his trust. It was just misplaced for a few days.”
Any reply my muddled mind has yet to conjure is halted by a soft voice calling my name. When I pivot toward the greeter, I discover a slender brunette in a red A-line skirt and white blouse. Her dark hair is pulled back in a side-swept French braid, and her lips are shimmering with a fresh layer of lip gloss she must have applied before greeting me. I can’t see the color of her eyes as thick-rimmed glasses hide them.
When her brow arches, announcing she spotted my prolonged gawk, I quickly span the distance between us. “Yes. Hello, I’m Isabelle.”
“Avery Clarke.” After accepting my handshake, she gestures for me to enter her office. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Isabelle.”
Avery’s office is as outdated as the rest of the building, but she has a unique sense of style. Vibrant- colored scatter cushions give an illusion of flair. However, the potted orchids sitting under the large bay window that spans one entire wall gives it a rustic, homey feel. It’s odd for two contrasting elements to come together so well, but Avery pulls it off.
As Dr. Avery Clarke moves around her desk positioned near the far wall, I finish drinking in the rest of her features. She’s quite short, even with altitude-defying stilettos, the top of her head only reaches my eyes. Since her hazel eyes only have the slightest amount of crow’s feet, I’d guess her age to be in the early to mid-thirties. She’s attractive but is happy to downplay it with a lack of makeup and figure-hugging clothes.
After snagging a pencil and a yellow lined notepad out of the top drawer of her desk, Avery gestures for me to sit in the chair opposite her. “Unless you’d prefer to lie down?”
When her hand strays to a clinical-looking leather chaise, I plop onto the closest seat. I thought those types of shrink chairs were only movie props.
Avery gathers the tablet from her desk before sitting across from me. When her eyes lift to mine, the butterflies in my stomach vanish. Her eyes are warm and inviting, no doubt an asset for a therapist. They appear so trustworthy, I bet her patients spill their deepest secrets without a thought of the consequences. That, in itself, is a terrifying notion.
“Before we start, I want to ensure you’re aware that nothing you say within this office will be disclosed toanyone.” The way she emphasizes anyone reveals who she’s referring to—Isaac. “The sole reason I refused to work exclusively with Isaac’s team is because I didn’t want them believing I’d report anything they shared with me back to him. Any reports I take are solely for my patients’ benefit.” Her glistening, bright eyes stare firmly into mine. “The same courtesy applies to you, Isabelle. Anything you tell me, no matter how personal, will never be shared with anyone. Do you understand?”
I nod, trusting the honesty in her eyes.
“Great,” she says with a grin. “So, let’s get started. What brought you into my office today?”
My appointment with Dr. Avery went very well. Although she explained nightmares in adults generally occur in two to eight percent of the population, it’s not a rare occurrence for someone who experienced what I did on the weekend. She also advised that sleep deprivation increases the risk of nightmares occurring, so I need to ensure I get an adequate amount of sleep per night.
She gave me sleeping medication to test for the next week. If it lowers the incidence of nightmares, she’ll write a full prescription at my next appointment. I also have a set of imagery rehearsal techniques I’m to perform each night before going to sleep. They will help my brain rehearse how the nightmares will transpire if I have one. Although the efficacy of the treatment hasn’t been demonstrated clearly, Dr. Avery said there’s no harm in testing the theory in cases like mine.
I have three main tasks to focus on before our next appointment—practicing good sleeping hygiene by ensuring I’m not sleep deprived, maintaining regular exercise and eating something healthy before going to bed, and remembering that my bedroom is supposed to be a relaxing, tranquil place, reserved for sleep and sex, not stressful activities. I didn’t have the heart to tell her Isaac and I have been banned from seeing each other, so the sex part won’t be happening for a few weeks, if not months.
Ignoring my childish pout, I shove my keys into the lock of my apartment door before swinging it open. “Do you need to pick anything up while we are here?” I ask Hugo while bending down to collect the mail scattered on the floor.
He strolls into my living room like he owns the place. “Nope.”
“All right, give me five minutes to pack a few items, then we’ll be on our way. There’s beer in the fridge if you’re thirsty.”
