My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 380

Raphael turned and walked over to the office door. But right before he opened it, he stopped. He stood there for a quiet moment, his back to me, before he slowly turned around to look at me one last time. He looked unusually hesitant, his broad shoulders shifting as he cleared his throat.

“Do you…” he started, his voice uncharacteristically soft and uncertain. He rubbed the back of his neck, struggling to find the words, “Do you… would you like a.. a therapist, Gianna?”

The word felt like a splash of freezing water straight to my face.

I didn’t let my expression change. I kept my face perfectly still, my jaw locked tight so he couldn’t see the sudden panic crashing through me. But inside, my chest shrank until it felt totally hollow.

A dark wave of shame washed over my mind.

A therapist.

I didn’t want him to look at me and see a fragile, damaged thing. I didn’t want him to think I was a lunatic who couldn’t handle her own dark thoughts.

While I had been sitting here falling completely in love with his strength, he was looking at me like I was a sad patient who needed to be handled with kid gloves.

I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth, forcing a cold laugh past my lips as I leaned back against the seat.

“Why would I need a therapist, Raphael?” I asked, as I picked up the white tablet, pretending to look at the screen just so I wouldn’t have to meet his dark eyes, “Do you think I’m losing my mind?”

Raphael slowly lifted his broad shoulder in a casual shrug, “It’s not a bad thing, Gianna,” he said, “Going to talk to someone… it doesn’t mean you’re crazy. It just means you have a lot of heavy things inside your head, and it could help you with a lot of those things. It could give you a safe place to put the mess.’

Mess.

For the first time since I had known him, the coldness on his face completely cracked. He looked totally taken aback, his eyes widening in pure surprise as my words smacked him right in the chest.

“Gianna,” he said quickly, “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean it like that, Mess. I’m not trying to say you’re-

“I don’t care what you meant,” I snapped, cutting him off before he could even finish his sentence.

I didn’t want to hear his excuses. I didn’t want to see him try to patch up the giant, bleeding hole he had just ripped into my feelings with his talk about deals and crazy people.

The anger inside me was the only thing keeping me from bursting into loud, embarrassing tears right in front of him, and I needed to get away from his scent before I lost my mind completely.

I stood up from the chair so fast it rolled backward, the wheels squeaking loudly against the floor. I didn’t look at his face, and I didn’t look at the white tablet still resting on the dark wood. I grabbed the hem of my crop top, pulling it down with a tug, and marched straight toward the door.