way. Then they hadn’t. It was really that simple.
When couples came in for therapy, his job was like a mediator between businesses, making sure middle ground was found, needs were met. He was good at it. But when people brought up the mystical concepts of fate and The One, he kind of wanted to throw one of his psych textbooks at them. If people were convinced it was fate, why bother with therapy? They wouldn’t hear anything he had to say that didn’t fit into the story they’d already created for themselves.
Which is why he dreaded the next session with Claire and Benny. Couples therapy drained him. Give him someone with arousal disorder or sex addiction or a fetish any day. He’d much rather tackle those issues than deal with the should-we-or-shouldn’t-we-stay-together situations.
But Zach, the guy who’d been hired to help take some of Donovan’s caseload and handle those types of marital issues, had quit two months ago when he decided Donovan was “difficult” to work with and that the clients were too intense. Really, the guy had gotten chewed up and spit out by a particularly combative couple who’d threatened to sue when they blamed his treatment plan for making the marriage worse.
Amateur mistake.
Celebrities and the wealthy were their own breed. They were used to people catering to them, and a therapist’s job was to help them see things about themselves in a way they didn’t necessarily like. It didn’t always go over well. People got pissed. They swung their power around. You couldn’t let them. Zach was the second therapist they’d lost on this floor in eight months.
Donovan hadn’t been surprised. The only way to deal with big egos was to make sure you had one, too. That’s who survived here. And Zach just didn’t have the backbone for it.
Of course, Donovan’s boss had blamed him for the loss. Apparently, she’d seen it as a failure to be an effective mentor, and it’d ended up being a mark against him for the promotion. Another point to add to her list of grievances.
So now he had double the caseload and another hill to climb in Suri’s eyes. He didn’t mind the extra work. In fact, he preferred having the floor to himself. He liked the control of that and being busy. But too many couples sessions in a week could drive him to the brink. And if he ever wanted to add research to his plate again, he would need to get promoted and have someone else on this floor to ease the workload. Another therapist would be for the best. He just dreaded the process of dealing with someone else new.
The buzzer on his office phone went off, and Ysa’s voice filled the office. “Dr. West?”
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed the spot between his eyes. “Yeah.”
“Six people confirmed for the sex addiction group this afternoon. But Karina showed up early in an outfit that was, uh … quite revealing, so I ushered her to the private room across the hall so she wouldn’t bring that distraction into group.”
Donovan looked to the ceiling. “How revealing?”
Ysa sniffed. “She sat across from me in the waiting room. I can confirm that the carpet matches the drapes.”
Donovan couldn’t stop the chuckle at his assistant’s deadpan tone. Ysa wasn’t fazed by much these days. “Call the main building and have someone bring her a pair of scrubs. Tell her she’s not allowed into group otherwise.”
“Will do. Oh, and Dr. Suri just called. She wants you in her office in ten minutes.”
Donovan sat forward, his chair squeaking in protest. “For what?”
“Didn’t say. And you know I’m not asking. She had that tone.”
He sighed. “Fantastic. I’m on my way.”
Ysabel wished him luck, and he got up to head over to the main building, hoping Suri hadn’t somehow found out that he’d shown up late again today. He greeted people as he made his way through the snaking hallways and jogged up the stairs. When he walked into the office, Agatha, Dr. Suri’s assistant, gave him a broad smile. “Long time no see, Dr. West.”
“I’ve missed your beautiful face, Aggie. But you know me, I try to avoid trips to the principal’s office.”
“Stop trying to charm an old woman. It won’t work on me.” But she gave him a wink from behind her glasses before picking up her phone. “Dr. Suri, Dr. West is here.”
Aggie nodded and hung up the phone.
“You can go on in,” she said.
“Am I in trouble?”
Aggie’s smile went sly. “Aren’t you always? But not the kind you’re thinking.”
He lifted a brow. “Now you’ve got me curious.”
“Well, you know what they say about that.”
Donovan frowned at the playful warning but walked over to the door and stepped inside of Doc Suri’s office. Suri was at her desk, intimidating despite her diminutive height and the soft bun twisted atop her head. The president in her oval office. Her gaze slid to him with dark eyes that could go warm with friendliness or singe with disapproval. Well, at least he’d heard about the first one. He had yet to truly witness such an occurrence. She stood. “Dr. West, glad you could make it over here between appointments.”
“Sure, no problem. What can I help …”
But his words drifted away from him when someone rose from the seat across from Suri’s desk.
“I wanted you to meet someone,” Dr. Suri said.
The woman whom he’d run into in the parking lot had turned toward him. She closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds, like she was pained, but then quickly hid it behind a tight, Mona Lisa smile.
Suri stepped around her desk. “Dr. West, this is Dr. Marin Rush. She’s interviewing for the open position on your floor. Since you’d be training her if she’s hired, I thought it was important for you to join in on the second part of the interview.”
“I—” The name was ringing bells in his head—thick, reverberating sounds. Marin. Marin.
“Marin, this is Donovan West.”
Marin’s lips tilted into the barest of smirks, and that’s when it came back to him, in one, scrolling memory. Late nights and long conversations. Teasing glances and longing looks. He’d kissed those lips. He’d touched this woman. But only once. Mari.
Fuck.
Mari—no, Marin—took a step forward and put out her hand formally. “Nice to meet you, Dr. West.”
He took her hand. It was chilled, delicate, but the squeeze she gave him was firm and confident. He didn’t want to let it go. “You can call me Donovan.”
“Donovan, then.”
He couldn’t read her eyes. She was giving him a professional mask. A stranger’s face. But the way she’d said his name and the slight flush in her cheeks told him she wasn’t unaffected. This was why she’d been so freaked out when they’d collided outside. She’d recognized him. Now he felt like an ass for not placing her sooner.
