* CURRENTLY EDITING.*
Luke Madden is a NHL superstar. But when an injury sidelines him, he's required to undergo physical therapy. With a stable family and girlfriend, Luke has all the resources he needs. Or so he thinks. As it turns out, there are...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Rosalina
"Emyln Juliette Walker."
She looks up from her laptop as I enter the boardroom.
"I will murder you," I continue. Pulling a chair out, I sit diagonally to her and cross my arms, staring her down. "You can't just waltz into my sessions. Especially when my client is a professional athlete!"
She shoots me a sly smirk, closing her laptop. Naturally, she skirts around my threats. "What's the story with you and Madden? You were looking a little lovey-dovey over there. And you gave him the cookies."
Her choice of words irritates me. Yes, Luke and I were bonding, but we were not acting lovey-dovey.
Are you sure? My mind whispers.
I shush my mind. Sure, I gave him too much personal information. However, if it means creating a healthy, trustworthy patient-therapist relationship with him, then I'm willing to make some sacrifices. We were not flirting, though. I refuse to even think that.
Also, this isn't a pleasant conversation to be having in a boardroom in my work building. "Get your shit together," I say. "We can continue this conversation while we're walking to the restaurant."
Neither of us says a word until we're halfway down the block. While we walk, I wrack my brain for something to say. We stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. "Look, Emmy," I sigh. "I love you. So much. But sometimes, you need to keep your mouth shut. Even if it looked like something, nothing was happening between Luke and I.
She crosses her arms and cocks an eyebrow. "You didn't see the way he was looking at you. And the way he touched your hand?" She scoffs. "There's a definition for that, and it's called lust."
A lump forms in my throat while familiar heat spreads through my body. Having a picture of Luke seared into my brain doesn't help, either. I clear my throat. "How long were you standing there?"
She looks at me, her gaze soft. "Long enough."
The light changes, and we cross the crosswalk. Traffic buzzes around us, as do the other people, who are oblivious to what feels like my world crashing down around me. Sure, I feel sexual attraction towards Luke. I'll never act on it, though, because it's unethical. My job is more important than being fucked by a hockey player. But what worries me is Emlyn's assumptions. If emotions were written all over our faces... This isn't good. I rub the heel of my hand against my face.
"Look, even if I felt something for him—and I'm not saying I do—it's not gonna happen. It's unethical." I step around a teenager whose face is focused on their phone. "Besides, he's made for the supermodel type. Which is what his girlfriend is."
Emyln scoffs. "Olivia Sorenson? Are you fucking kidding me? Do you know how ridiculous her Instagram feed is? She is a soulless human being, Rosa. All she cares about is makeup and her number of followers. I'm not saying influencers are bad thing. But there are some who are so fucking fake it's unbelievable. I bet she's just using Luke. She probably doesn't even love him."
