Chapter 113 Amber

Chapter 113 Amber
Lydia took in a deep breath, not sure how to answer that. There were so many answers to it, as she supposed. There were so many answers that were half formed, some that had no words at all and were just vague images in our head. But the first thing she grasped was surprisingly true, simple and clear.
"I want to feel safe." She clenched her fists. " I want to feel safe going places and doing things. I want to feel safe going to sleep at night so I don't have nightmares. I want to feel safe wearing the things I want to wear and trying to wear new things and do new things without feeling lik I shouldn't have it. That it's only going to invite trouble..."
She sniffled. "I really want to be able to think about dating without sending myself into a spiral. I want to feel... ready to leave my past behind."
She glanced up. " You add my file and my intake, didn't you?"
"Of course.”
“And the police reports?”
“Of course... I read everything you provided and I must say that it was incredibly brave of you to provide all of that context."
"Well... I have reason to be brave."
"Your friends?"
"Them and..." Her face heated. She looked away. "Oh god, this is gonna feel so anti feminist."
She snorted. "The largest part of feminism is that you have the right to choose, and having a man be part of the reason why you're taking some time for yourself isn't necessarily a bad thing, so long as you don't make it the only thing." 
She nodded. "You haven't seen the man."
Dr. Beka laughed. "I don't need to. I have a husband. That man could convince, trick, and otherwise coerce me to do a lot of things."
She nodded. " I don't know if I want to be married. I think once I thought about it. But I don't know what marriage really looks like."
"Sometimes it's fighting over laundry... Sometimes it's dancing in the moonlight, and sometimes... it's just feeling safe."
Lydia swallowed. "You know, it would be a lot easier to believe that you have my best interests at heart if you weren't connected to psychos."
"At least within the confines of these four walls, Lydia, you are the only person whose interests matter to me. The Society pays me to help you. My license compels me to help you achieve the things you want to achieve and be the best version of you for you. Nothing you say leaves this office. My notes are confidential even from my sisters. You are safe here if nothing else."
Lydia nodded. "Then... I want to talk about that night... if that's alright."
"Wherever you want to start."

He'd been waiting for it for weeks. To be fair, finding the perfect solution was the hard part. Waiting for it to arrive was the second hardest part. He had never been so impatient for a piece of furniture to arrive before, or so happy to put one together, but he guessed he had never been trying to get a piece of furniture for someone else to go in his space permanently, and wasn't that an odd sort of feeling?
Dorian smiled, wiping his forehead as he finished assembling the little convertible shelf-table he'd gotten for Lydia's art supplies. It was functional, artsy too with enough little drawer and cabinets that she could wheel it around and work on top of it wherever she wanted and slot it back into place on his wall when she was done. 
She used his living room more than he ever did. He was hauling the small tote of art supplies he'd gotten delivered to the shelf. A set of new sketchbooks and pads of paper for watercolor, markers, and mixed media from the brands she used. 
He'd just pulled out the fancy, glittery watercolor palette, some limited edition thing Animkii has suggested via Callikrates when it struck him. 
He was so fucked. It was damn near eight o'clock and he was grinning like an idiot unpacking art supplies. 
Before the panic could settle in, his security system chimed. The front door opened. 
He hissed shoving the tote behind the shelf and lifting it so it flipped and grew tall, mimicking the silhouette of a tree. 
"Ly--" He broke off, seeing who had come in. His stomach jolted, a haunted, hunted feeling took over. Then, the fury and deep sense of wrong. The violation of the woman who had walked in through his front door, like she belonged in his life, in his space... 
Like he'd invited her in when they both knew that wasn't the case. 
"What are you doing here?"

Amber wasn't a difficult person. She liked things uncomplicated.
She liked men for that reason because they were all uncomplicated. 
Sex. 
They all just wanted sex, all the time, as much as they could get and maybe a little more than that. Sometimes they wanted a little stroke to the ego that wasn't sex, but they'd take a handjob over that any day. And she as happy to provide those services so long as she was compensated fairly. 
Being hot and good at sex wasn't easy, after all. 
Dorian was one of those men who wanted other things. Fidelity, for one. Boring. Stupid. Naive. Immature, too. She thought she'd get him over it, but it had been a miscalculation to be so careless. She should have noticed him there all those years ago. She should have handled it all different, but that was then, and Dorian was too smart not to realize that she was his best option to keep his life the way it was, keep the Society happy.
She was going to make sure she was his only option.
The hot red dress his father liked her best in over a black lace bra was just he first part of the plan. She hadn't bothered with underwear because it would be a waste of time, and he had been an eager freak back then. She'd kept tabs on him in the years since they were naive kids, and not much had changed from what she'd been able to find out. He got the memo about not chasing useless things like monogamy and ran wild, but that was coming to an end. 
She couldn't have him thinking of trading her in at will like so many men in his position did. The only reason his parents were still together was because his father couldn't risk pissing of his mother. 
Dorian had his own fortune, and none of it was resting in his father-in-law's hands.
Dorian's eyes narrowed, flicked over her, then his shoulders relaxed. He stood his full height and the hazel of his eyes burned gold as he looked at her. It made her think of Jean-Paul back in France and the wicked things he could do with his tongue. She would have to teach Dorian some of that... or visit often.
It's not like he'd be around to notice.