Take Till You Break

[Dante]

I settled into the back seat, scrolling through emails on my phone, though my focus was far from the screen. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Keith's glances through the rearview mirror. He didn't look away when our eyes met. Bold, as usual. Finally, I lifted my head.

"Do, you need something?" I asked casually, my eyes still on the screen. His reaction was immediate—a small hitch of breath, followed by the slightest shift in his grip on the wheel. Keith wasn't the type to shrink under pressure, but he knew better than to test me. Especially with my unpredictable temper.

"Just... I've never seen you chat so much with a waitress before. Then you reported her? Seemed out of character."

I let the silence settle. My fingers tapped against my phone screen. Keith shifted uncomfortably, glancing at me in the mirror again. He knew how much I disliked being stared at.

Keith was one of the few people who could get away with this kind of casual tone around me. He'd known me since he was just a boy. His father, Malcolm, had driven for me for years, practically part of the furniture at this point.

"Are you finished?" I asked.

He exhaled and nodded. "Yeah."

It was unlike him to pry. But that was Keith—once he caught the scent of something he didn't understand, he had a hard time letting go. His father, Malcolm, was away on sabbatical, and Keith had taken his place behind the wheel temporarily. But then again, I never wanted him to see himself as more than just an assistant. Familiarity didn't excuse overstepping. He knew that.

"You gave her your card, didn't you?" I asked, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

He had the decency to look embarrassed, nodding. "Yeah... she was really hot. I wouldn't mind, you know... seeing her outside work." He'd always been eager, in his own quiet way, for any attention, trying to ride off his position as my assistant.

I rolled my eyes. "And did I question your motives?"

Keith focused on the road, his face reddening. "No."

"Then spare me the lecture."

After a beat, he nodded again, muttering a quiet apology. I was tired, anyway, too much so to entertain his misguided need for gossip. "Reschedule my session with Bella, drop me at home and then take the car to the car wash," I said, glancing at the passing city outside the window.

"Got it, boss." He nodded.

We pulled up to my building, and I didn't wait for him to park, already out the door before the car had fully stopped. Inside, I found the cold silence soothing in a way Keith's chatter wasn't. In a few minutes, I was done with my bath. I put on my robe and checked my phone. A missed call. Then, as if on cue, it started ringing again. Bella.

She was supposed to be my therapist, and yet her eagerness to reach me outside office hours was all too predictable. I swiped to answer, bringing the phone to my ear. "Yes?"

"Dante, hi!" Bella's voice was bright, almost too chipper for the mood I was in. "I was actually in your neighbourhood. Would it be alright to have the session at your place today? We could make it more relaxed... outside by the pool, perhaps?"

These sessions weren't optional. Not if I wanted to avoid going back to... well, to where I'd been before. This was all just a farce to let my doctors know that I was doing fine. Fools.

"Fine," I said, and hung up, slipping the phone into my pocket as I waited for the inevitable knock.

It wasn't long before she arrived, stepping inside with an easy smile that I didn't return. Her clothes were casual—jeans and a T-shirt—but the sunglasses were a touch too much. She seemed to think they made her seem unrecognisable, though all I saw was an unnecessary shield against a sun that wasn't even bright.

"Let's go outside," I said, gesturing toward the pool area. She followed clipboard in hand, still smiling in that calm, practised way of hers as if her presence alone could soothe whatever it was that churned inside me. All she did was drive me mad—and not even sexually.

I sat by the pool, tugging my robe around my shoulders. Bella settled across from me, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head, and opened her notebook. She always brought it, always wrote in it. I wondered sometimes what she thought she was capturing—whatever it was, it wasn't me.

"So... how are you feeling?" she asked, pen ready.

"Fine," I replied, my voice low, clipped. "The same as always."

She nodded as though that told her something, scribbling a note. "Is the voice still there?"

I turned my gaze to the water, its surface smooth, almost too calm. "It doesn't go away." Why the hell did this woman ask me the same damn questions every single time? Would I simply go to bed and 'poof,' wake up a new man?

"When did you last feel it, the urge to... let it take over?" She leaned forward, like she was trying to understand but it just felt like she wanted gossip. I knew what to say and what not to say, how I'd gradually 'recover' after some months of her sessions and she would take the glory. I couldn't help the cold smile that touched my lips, but I kept it to myself.

"Whenever I'm irritated." The words were out for her to pick.

She jotted something down, nodding with that cool, clinical detachment that made my teeth clench. As if she understood. Bella thought she could talk me into being someone who fit her textbook theories—a subject to observe, diagnose, and file away. It was laughable. Sometimes, the impulse to reach across the space between us, to wrap my fingers around her neck, flared up. What would she say then? But despite the way I acted, I had some ounce of self-control.

She cleared her throat, breaking the silence, unaware of my thoughts. "Dante, I think grounding techniques might help when you feel that restlessness."

Grounding. She said the word like it had weight, like it meant something. As if I needed to be held down, chained to something solid—but I knew that wasn't what she meant.

My gaze slid over to her, "You think I need to be grounded?" I teased.

Her hand stilled on the page, her mouth opening slightly. I saw her hesitate, her intentions playing behind her gaze. "I think it might help to have tools... when you feel irritating. Do you like animals?"

Oh, darling, I had all the tools I need and a pet on its way. What else do you want from me?

"Cats, snakes... not dogs, they require too much attention." I leaned back in my sun lounger, turning to lie on my side, a gesture that left my chest exposed.

She shifted, rubbing her thighs together. She tried to hide it, but I saw the way she licked her lips, eying between my legs. It was pathetic, really. If I wanted to, I would simply seduce her into my bed though I doubted it would take much effort. When I had her in my clutches, she would easily sign me off as someone who'd improved. Then I would ghost her later on.

But even I had my preferences...

As cliche as it might seem, I was a sucker for big blue eyes. I liked petite women, a bit curvy but definitely not overloaded. A pretty, round face. Bella was...not any of those, aside from being moderately attractive. She was a British brunette with caramel eyes. Voluptuous. I knew that many men would be on her tail, waiting for their turn.

As confident as I was in my charms, she had made moves at me in the past which I'd tried to ignore.

"I like dogs," she said with a blush.

"Are you busy tonight?" I knew her answer even before asking. If my hypothesis so far had been right, she would pretend to push things aside if I wanted to talk.

"Not necessarily, I always have time for my patients." She smiled warmly.

"I'm not asking as your patient, Bella—"

My phone rang, interrupting the conversation. I checked the screen. An unknown number, "Excuse me," I murmured, already standing, stepping away from her as I swiped to answer. Bella's gaze followed me, her eyes clouded with that familiar blend of pity and frustration. I could tell she was as pissed at the caller as I was.

"Yes?" I said into the phone as the caller spoke briefly. "I see. Send me her current address." I hung up, barely holding back a grin. Whenever someone caught my attention, I was fond of pulling out pieces of their lives until they broke. It never played out well for them. It was in my nature to be a bit obsessive.

'Well then, Bianca Campbell. Let's see how much I can take from you before you break.'