The Best Deception (New Edition) Read online

  “Leah? Have you seen my baseball glove? I'm gonna be late for practice,” Danny yelled up the stairs.

  “It's in the foyer. Underneath your English textbook that you never bothered to open,” I replied, making my way down the stairs.

  “I still don't see it.”

  I walked over to the foyer, picked up his English textbook and handed it to him.

  “You have to look with your eyes, Danny,” I said as I watched a letter fall to the floor out of the corner of my eye.

  I bent down to pick the letter up. “What's this?”

  He tried to snatch the letter out of my hands. “It's nothing. It's mine. Give it back to me.”

  That's when I noticed the heading on the letter: Cedar Correctional Facility.

  “You're keeping in contact with him?” I asked, trying my hardest not to scream.

  He tried to snatch the letter back from me again. “He just wants to talk. It's been 14 years already. He's my father too, you know.”

  “That's not a good idea, Danny. I know it's hard. I know you haven't had a father figure. I'm just trying to protect you. He's a very bad man, it's not safe to talk to him. You know what he did—" I said, my voice cracking with the last word.

  “Leah, please don't cry. I'm not trying to hurt you. I just want to get to know him. And I have a right to make my own decision. I love you, sis. Don't be mad at me."

  He gave me a quick hug before heading out to baseball practice.

  I slumped down on the couch and put my head in my hands. This was a fucking disaster. I always feared this day would come. I just hoped he would be smart enough not to fall for my father's lies and manipulation. What he did was disgusting, despicable, and unforgivable. I still remember that night like it was yesterday.

  I was 12 years old and having a sleepover with my very best friend—Jamie. We were inseparable. We used to spend the summers swimming, drinking lemonade from our makeshift stands, laughing, and telling each other secrets.

  Then, during one of our sleepovers one night, I rolled over and noticed Jamie wasn't in bed with me anymore. She used to have a lot of nightmares and I was worried about her, so I went downstairs to check on her. The last time I saw her alive, my father was carrying her out the front door.

  When my father got really drunk he used to take his anger out on me. I was scared for Jamie. I wanted him to hurt me, not Jamie. Never her. She didn't do anything wrong, she probably just had another nightmare and ended up startling him in his drunken stupor.

  I started screaming at the top of my lungs before he even made it out of the house.

  My screams went unnoticed, though. I woke my mother up and told her what happened. She was hungover but held me in her arms. Until my cries woke Danny up, and she got annoyed with me. I begged her to call the police, call Jamie's parents, go look for my father, something—but she wouldn't. She just held Danny and tried to get him to go back to sleep.

  That’s when I decided to go looking for them myself. I ran as fast as my legs would take me. I ran all the way to the woods, a mile away from our house. I searched for hours and hours. I probably would have gotten lost in them if Jamie and I didn't know these particular woods so well.

  The sun was starting to come up when I tripped over something.

  I looked down and soon realized that what I had tripped over—was Jamie's body—covered by sticks and shrubbery. I tried shaking her. I tried getting her to wake up, but she wouldn't. Her clothes were torn and she had red marks and bruises on her neck.

  I held her in my arms and I cried my heart out.

  I'd never known the meaning of true devastation and heartbreak until that moment.

  After what seemed like hours, I finally got up and started walking toward the police station. Given the distressed state I was in, they took immediate notice.

  I told them everything I had seen and heard. I told them that my father killed my best friend. I even testified in court against him. It turns out he raped her before he killed her, that made me hate him even more.

  I smiled in the courtroom when he was sentenced to life without the possibility of parole. It was my testimony that did it. I told the court everything that he used to do to me. I told them that he was a drunk that used to beat me.

  I told them that he was the worst father in the whole entire world. I told them that he took the life of my very best friend and I begged them to put him away forever.

  I pleaded for the court to punish him, and they did.

  The day he got sentenced was one of the happiest days of my life. It was justice, he got what he deserved.

  Unfortunately, Danny and I—didn't. My mother's addiction to alcohol quickly turned to drugs. Various men would come and go from the house at all hours of the night. Some of the men were nice…some of them were not so nice.

  Especially one in particular.

  Danny was 7 years old and I was 18. I was getting ready to head out for the night when I saw the bastard punch Danny hard across the face. That's when I lost it, lunged in his direction, and scratched and kicked him.

  I fought him with everything I had in me. I was winning until he pinned me down. He tore off my shorts and was about to do something heinous—until Danny picked up a lamp and smashed it over him. I still don't know how he did it, but I was more than grateful for it.

  My mother walked into the room then and started yelling. At first, I thought that she was yelling at her piece of shit boyfriend, but no. She was actually yelling at me. She called me a slut and threatened to kick me out of the house.

  So, I grabbed Danny and left. I went to my high school sweethearts house. Alan was the only one I could confide in about everything. He was the only one who didn't judge me and loved me, despite my fucked up life.

  Danny and I hid there for 3 whole days.

  My mother didn't even bother to call, she didn't care. Leaving Danny with Alan, I finally went back to the house to pick up a few things up for the both of us.

  I opened the door and was immediately taken back by a horrible odor.

  An odor that I had only smelled once before in my life.

  I didn't even need to open the door fully to realize what it was. I called the police and they showed up about a half hour later. They told me it was a heroin overdose, and no foul play was suspected.

  I knew it was the truth. She loved her alcohol and heroin more than she loved her children—that was a fact.

  Seeing as how I had just been accepted into med school, and technically, I was a responsible adult. I fought like hell for custody of Danny. I couldn't let him go into a foster home. I loved him more than anything. Hell, I had practically raised him myself at that point.

  I won sole custody. That was the happiest day of my life.

  The fact that Danny wanted to have contact with our father now—is unnerving, to say the least. I had to make him understand that it would be a big mistake. I had to get him to see things my way. But first, I had to meet Mr. Control Freak for another one of our sessions.

  Sighing, I got up off the couch and walked into my bedroom to go get changed.

  I made sure that I wore slacks and a button up shirt this time.

  Chapter 3

  I made it up to my office building by 6:02pm. Mr. Control Freak—or Jacob, was nowhere to be found.

  I breathed a sigh of relief, thankful to have a few minutes to myself before another session. Plus, I needed to find out how to get my hands on the latest contract of his and find out exactly what it was I was agreeing to when I signed my name.

  I was an idiot not to look at the latest version. He even asked me if I wanted to and I declined.

  What the hell was I thinking? I was so distracted by his presence, I wasn't thinking.

  That was going to have to end. I have to remain professional. I have ethics and principles to adhere to.

  “Hello, Dr. Adams,” Jacob's voice greeted me, bringing me out of my thoughts.

  I looked up and tried to ignore the urge to suck in a
deep breath. His presence was overwhelming alright. And quite frankly, I didn't like the things it was doing to me.

  I also didn't like that he didn't wear suits. Especially given the fact that he was a CEO and a businessman.

  What was up with the almost too tight t-shirts and jeans? Was he purposely trying to get women to just drop their panties at the sight of him?

  “Dr. Adams, are you okay?” he asked bringing me out of my thoughts again.

  I gritted my teeth, feeling like an idiot now. I really needed to get a hold of myself. “I'm fine. Have a seat.”

  I motioned to the couch, purposely avoiding his eyes. He looked taken back for a second before he complied.

  “Okay, so where should we begin?” he asked.

  “That's my line. Before we begin, though—care to tell me exactly what I was agreeing to in regards to the new contract that I unknowingly signed?”

  He smiled. “Of course, Dr. Adams. There were no major changes, I promise you. The only thing that I added, was a change in terminology—" he paused, gauging my reaction.

  “Such as?”

  “I don't like the word sessions. Especially given what it is that I need from you. I prefer the term date. I also expect for you to tell me some things about yourself. That's the only way I can begin to trust you and confide in you."

  Between his statement and his piercing green eyes, I did end up taking a deep breath then.

  “I don't like the verbiage of the word date. However, as long as you know that we are to have a professional client—doctor relationship, I'm willing to let it slide. I won't be willing to confide certain things about myself to you, though. This is your treatment and your therapy session. I will be willing to answer a few miscellaneous things, but no more than that. I'm sorry," I said sitting up in my chair now.

  He stared at me for what seemed like hours before he spoke again. “I'm going to need more than a few miscellaneous things. I chose you because I know that you're new to this. I know that I'm your first client. You haven't been tainted by the medical industry's ethical standards yet. You still have an open mind, you may even be up for more unconventional treatments, and I need that. I need you."

  Warmth spread through me as his gaze turned smoldering and the corners of his lips turned up in a sly grin.

  Like he knew exactly what kind of impact he was having on me.

  Holy hell, what is it with this guy?

  Attraction, Leah—I told myself. Just simple attraction. It’s pure biology. Nothing more, nothing less.

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “I'll think about it. But why don't you just seek regular therapy for your issues? Why would you come to see a psychiatrist?”

  “Well, number one—I need a female, to help me work through my issues. Two— therapists aren't as open minded as new Doctors are, believe it or not. Third— I wanted you, and only you. For the reasons I stated before. And finally— I've increased the pay for our sessions. After meeting you last Monday, I realize that you will be worth every single penny. It's $3,000 a session...or date, now. Including the undisclosed sign-on bonus after the first term, which I assure you—will be worth it,” he said, looking dead serious.

  I sucked in a breath. His words were starting to make me feel like a prostitute—like I was his property—and I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

  One thing was certain, though. I needed the money.

  I had a house to take care of, and I had to take care of Danny. I wanted him to be able to go to a good college, and I might actually be able to save up a little bit of money to make that happen now.

  “Okay. Just so you know, there will be nothing physical going on between us. That is a big no-no. So we can work out your issues, whatever they may be. Just not in that way."

  He ran a hand along his jawline and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I wouldn't dream of taking advantage of you, Dr. Adams. I mean, if you ever offered, I would be willing to pay a whole lot more. That would definitely be worth every single penny—and then some."

  I couldn't help but blush. A very small part of me was turned on, but a bigger part of me was mad as hell.

  “I'm not a prostitute. I'm a psychiatrist. Get that through your head. I will never, ever, have sex with a client. Ever. Now start talking,” I bit out through clenched teeth.

  He held up his hands. “Fine. The only subject that is off limits is my father. I will never talk about him, lucky for me, he's dead now. Anyway, my biggest issue, or issues, revolve around women. It makes it hard to date. I'm hoping you can help me out with that."

  I almost fell out of my chair I laughed so hard. He had to be joking. Problem dating? Him? He looked like he walked off the cover of a Calvin Klein ad—one of the hot and sexy ones.

  Without thinking, I said the first thing that popped into my head. “You have a problem dating? Sure,” I scoffed.

  He didn't look amused. “Do you always make fun of your clients?”

  Oh, god. I felt horrible now. He was trying to seek help, and I was making fun of him.

  I looked down at the floor, disgusted with myself. “I'm so sorry. You're absolutely right. It won't happen again. Please continue.”

  “You're forgiven, Dr. Adams. I'm curious though. Why aren't you wearing a skirt today? You have fantastic legs."

  And just like that, my annoyance with him was back.

  “It would be inappropriate for me to wear skirts around you. Especially now, given that most of your issues revolve around women and sex,” I said coldly.

  “Fine. Just understand that some of the things I may talk about may be uncomfortable for you. That's one of my problems actually. I can be a little inappropriate at times. Most women like it and even become very turned on by it. However, I'm looking for a serious relationship now. Not just a cheap fuck anymore. That's what I need your help with, Dr. Adams.” He appraised my reaction. “Can you handle that?"

  I figured his issues had to do with sex. But the fact that he was apparently looking for a serious relationship was interesting.

  Why? He probably had hundreds, upon hundreds of women flocking to him. Why wouldn't he just enjoy that? This was strange.

  “Yes. I can,” I answered. “I wouldn't be a very good psychiatrist if I couldn't handle hearing and dealing with certain things.”

  I reached for my bottle of water and took a sip.

  His gaze dropped down to my lips briefly before studying my face. “How many sexual partners have you had?”

  I was so caught off guard by his question, I spit up my water and began coughing. “Jacob, that is inappropriate.”

  The look on his face told me he didn’t like my answer. “Fine. How many serious relationships have you been in? You definitely don't seem like the one-night stand type of girl. That should be a safe enough question for you to answer. After that, I'll tell you more about myself."

  My mind drifted back to Alan. He was my only serious relationship and my only sexual partner to date. We dated for 7 years straight. We had been through everything together, including some of med school.

  He and Danny were super close and Danny looked up to him. It was the best relationship I could ever hope to be in. He was my best friend, as well as my lover. I could tell him anything, he was there for me through some of the hardest times of my life.

  He even helped me with the steps to get sole custody of Danny.

  Then, without warning, he broke up with me on my 23rd birthday. Or rather, I caught him cheating on my birthday. He cheated on me with one of my closest girlfriends too; another girl we attended med school with.

  The worst part was, I still begged him to stay with me after, but he ended up moving in with her.

  I didn't know how I would live without him, he’d been such a big part of my life for so long.

  I thought we would be together forever. I laid in bed for a week straight after, inconsolable. Danny actually took care of me for the entire week, and let me cry on his shoulder every hour on the hour, it was pathetic.
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  Thank god, I got through it. Thank god, I was strong enough to get through it.

  “Dr. Adams, are you going to answer the question or not?” Jacob asked again, bringing me out of my thoughts.

  “One. We were together for a long time. We broke up years ago, though. That is all I'm disclosing."

  I closed my eyes and tried to rid myself of the painful memory.

  “I see. That bad, huh? I know what it's like to be disappointed by someone you love,” he said softly. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up any harsh memories,” he finished, surprising me with his kindness.

  I reached for my pen and pad, my professionalism attitude back in full force. “Thank you. So, can we please put the focus back on you now? Like it's supposed to be.”

  “I'm a workaholic. However, I love sex. In fact, I would say that I'm addicted to sex, as much as I am to my work. Even more so than most men my age. It sounds trite, but I'm growing tired of the late night booty calls and women constantly throwing themselves at me.”

  I thought about his statement for a moment. “Well, maybe your sex addiction comes from a lack of maternal bonding. A subconscious need to be close to a woman, perhaps. How is your relationship with your mother?" I asked as he closed his eyes.

  “She's no longer alive—but when she was. It was a great relationship. She was a very warm and caring woman. She was the best mother anyone could ever ask for,” he said, looking down at the floor now.

  I fought the hint of jealousy at his reply. He was lucky to have a mother that cared. Good for him.

  That obviously wasn't the cause for his sexual addiction though. Too bad he won't talk about his father, because I'm willing to bet that his relationship with him could possibly play a role.

  Heck, maybe his father was a sex addict too?

  “I'm very sorry for your loss. Why do you think you have an addiction to sex?” I asked, watching his lips turn up at my question.

  He sat up straight and looked me right in the eyes. His gaze was so intense I visibly swallowed.

  “Because it feels great, and I happen to be an amazing fuck. There's nothing like having your big cock deep inside a woman and making her scream your name while she’s riding you hard, all night."