As I step out of my office, clutching the client files in my arms, I see five people sitting in the waiting room, mostly young women, and one very tall and striking looking man, who appears to give new meaning to the phrase "tall, dark, and handsome," due to his dark brown hair, tan skin, and steely green eyes, and the young woman sitting next to him doesn't look very comfortable, neither do the other three sitting across from them. I can tell neither one of them want to be here, but I am determined to help them solve their problems, and from the looks of it, they have very many that need sorting out. Tucking a loose strand of brown hair behind my ear, I step forward into the waiting area of the lobby and look at my clients. "Hello, I'm Dr. Abigail Hart. I'm glad you all could make it."
Noticing the striking man is eying me from head-to-toe as if I am a piece of fresh meat, I try as I might to remain as professional as possible. I can tell he must have some unrestrained sexual tension, perhaps he's a womanizer. He seems the type.
"Hi," the girl beside the striking man says with a small wave.
The man licks his lips as he continues looking over my body, his lips curling into a cocky grin. "Well hello doctor."
The girl beside him rolls her eyes and meets my gaze. "Don't mind him, he's always like this around women. He's a horny bastard." She glances at the girls across from her, her face red with embarassment. The man ignores her words, his gaze still focused intently on me.
I clear my throat, holding my head high and trying to keep my confidence, reminding myself that I've dealt with my share of womanizing characters before, and that I am a professional. "Why don't the five of you come into my office and we'll get started," I suggest, motioning them to follow me with a wave of my arm.
"With pleasure," the man says, flashing me another smile as he uncrossed his legs, pushing himself up to his feet. I clear my throat once more and nod in regard, as the other girls begin to follow me as well. Noticing the girl in the wheelchair and the tears in her eyes, I scowl. "Are you okay, honey?" She sniffles and gently nods, but says nothing. "Well I've got tissues in my office if you need them." Turning around, I start back towards my office, holding the door open for them, allowing them to enter first.
"Will you stop hitting on the therapist!" The auburn haired Hispanic girl shouted in a whisper to the man. "I didn't bring you here to screw her."
I flinch at the girl's words. Yes, definitely a womanizer this man is. He must have a lot of pent up sexual tension inside of him, and clearly, that sexual tension was fighting to get out.
"Well perhaps you should consider it, my sweet," the man tells her as he follows the three women in front of him. "Or put it in one of those little stories of yours, that way I can really get my rocks off."
"Victor!" The girl cries. "Stop it!"
Victor. So that was his name. I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other, swallowing the lump that has formed in my throat unexpectedly and tugging at the bottom of my black cotton blazer that I wear with my matching dress pants. As the man passes by me, I glance down at the file in my arms, trying to find his name, and at the same time, pretending to be preoccupied. However, I can still feel his eyes lingering on me, even as he steps through the door. Victor Bane. And Amy West. Of course. And the others are Dallas, Sophie and Claudia. Stepping into my office, I shut the door behind me. "Please, take a seat wherever you are comfortable," I instruct them on my way to my brown arm chair, a few more red arm chairs and a couple sofas around the rest of the room, and within eye line of my own chair. Just as a therapist's office should be.
Victor chose to sit on one of the sofas, even before Amy could stop him. Judging from the scowl on her face, she is not happy, and surprisingly, sits herself on the opposite end of the sofa, as if trying to distance herself from him as far as she could. Lowering myself into the arm chair, I set the file on my lap and fold my hands over it, looking around the room. I am about to welcome them once more, but Victor interrupts me.
"What the hell are you doing sitting way over there?" He asks Amy.
"I don't want to be near you right now," she says simply.
He scoffs, meeting my gaze. "Forgive me, Doctor, but my author is a drama queen."
"Go to hell," Amy mutters.
"I'd watch my mouth if I were you. Remember what happened to you in the elevator?" He says, cocking a challenging brow in her direction.
I scowl, wondering what did happen in the elevator. The thought troubles me.
He glances around the room, taking in his surroundings with a curious and admiring eye. "And may I just say, what a lovely decor you've chosen."
"Thank you, Victor," I say with a soft smile. My smile fades, however, when I notice the girl in the wheelchair tearing up again. Leaning forward, I grab the box of tissues on the walnut coffee table before me, rising to my feet momentarily to hand them to her. "Here you go, honey." She thanks me quietly and begins drying her eyes. I return to my seat, looking over at Victor with a scowl as his scoffs.
"Make that two drama queens." He remarks.
The three girls seem to explode with anger at his words and I sigh deeply, already feeling a migraine form in my head. "Ladies, please!" I cry, holding up my hands in defense. Victor joins in on the argument, almost taunting them to mess with him. "Victor!" I put my fingers into my mouth and whistle loudly, attempting to grab their attention.