Chapter 86

Williams finally succumbed, her rigid posture collapsing as she lay down on her immense mahogany desk, the empty whiskey glass resting precariously near the edge. The alcohol had taken effect, releasing the coiled tension in her mind. In the sudden quiet of the office, she closed her eyes, seeking oblivion.

And then she felt it.

That familiar warmth again.

That presence.

Before even opening her eyes, she already knew who it was.

Evelyn.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was thick and sluggish with drink.

“You were sleeping. I just wanted to cover you.” Evelyn murmured, spreading the expensive wool blanket over her shoulders. Her touch was light, too light, feather-soft, almost reverent. “I didn’t want you to wake up shivering.”

But Williams pushed it away. “Am I hallucinating again?”

“Williams,” Evelyn whispered, placing a careful hand on her shoulder. “You shouldn’t drink whiskey anymore. At least not until you regain the use of your arm.”

Williams eyed the half-empty glass, then fixed her gaze on Evelyn’s eyes.

“Your eyes… I feel like I’ve known you for a lifetime, I can’t remember.” She began to laugh, a dry, self-mocking sound. “I’m definitely hallucinating.”

Evelyn sat down beside the desk, her expression unreadable. “If that were the case, what would you do?”

Williams hesitated, but only for a breath.

If this were a hallucination, then nothing was real.
If nothing was real, she no longer needed to protect herself.

What if, just for once, she allowed herself this desperate, dark fantasy that would remain locked in the vault of her memory?

She lifted a hand and touched Evelyn’s shoulder.

And the world tilted.

Her hands pulled the woman until their faces hovered inches apart. Her breath smelled faintly of citrus and alcohol.

“So? What would you do?” Evelyn pressed further.

Williams curled her fingers into Evelyn’s top, not roughly, but with the weight of hunger she had denied too long, and pulled her downward, guiding her gently but unquestioningly until Evelyn’s back met the couch.

She leaned over her, her breath brushing Evelyn’s cheek.

“I would start by asking who the hell you think you are and why you enjoy defying me so much.”

Evelyn’s lips curved, her voice a whisper dressed in silk.

“I had replied, I am Evelyn Hazel to the first question, and to the second, I love challenging you because I like the way you react.”

“I am crazy,” Williams whispered to herself, realizing the absurd situation.

She tried to look away, searching the room for any anchor of reality, but Evelyn seized her face with a tenderness that disarmed her more than any violence could.

“Look at me,” Evelyn commanded, searching for her gaze.

Reluctantly, she did.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to submit to me,” Williams murmured, the confession slipping out like a trembling secret. “I want you to obey. To apologize.” Her voice cracked. “To stop driving me insane.”

Evelyn’s fingers grazed her jaw, soft enough to undo her.

But Williams flinched and pushed the hand away. “Don’t… please. Don’t touch me.”

“Why do you hate being touched?”

A single, hot tear escaped Williams’s eye, tracking a path into her hairline. “I don’t know. It just drives me crazy…”

“But Dr. Williams, touch is what makes us human,” Evelyn persisted, her voice maddeningly gentle.

“Stop. I told you!” Williams shoved Evelyn’s hand away and, in a horrifying flash, wrapped her hand around Evelyn’s throat. Not to squeeze, but to hold, to feel the fragile pulse beneath her thumb. “You, see? This is what drives me crazy about you. You don’t obey me, you don’t listen.”

“It’s because I care about you.” Evelyn’s voice was strained, but her eyes remained wide and unwavering.

Williams froze.

Then she laughed, a broken and empty laugh.

“It’s a dream,” she murmured. “Yes, I’m dreaming, and even in this dream, you’re still a rebel. So that’s how you act when you care.”

Evelyn watched her, unmoving beneath the grip. “But what do you mean by submission?” She stood up, forcing Williams to release her neck. “What exactly do you want from me?” She placed her hand on Williams’s shoulder again.

And something inside Williams snapped.

She reacted instantly, spinning around and pushing Evelyn onto the couch with a force that spoke of repressed violence. Evelyn fell, breath catching, hands bracing behind her. The cushions swallowed her for a moment before she regained her balance.

Williams approached, positioning herself between her parted legs. Her gaze traveled over Evelyn’s body, tracing the sublime curve of her model’s figure, then down to her flushed face, before slowly placing her hand on her thigh. An intense heat emanated from the silk of her dress. She let the surprising softness of her skin brush against her palm, pulling up the hem of the dress.

But Evelyn’s hand shot out, blocking her. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” Williams whispered. “Maybe I want to explore what you keep hidden.”

“That is a private place, Doctor,” Evelyn murmured.

They held a tense silence.

“Please,” Williams pressed desperately, “if this is my dream, let me do it my own way.

Finally, Evelyn withdrew her hand, placing both arms out on the sofa cushion in a gesture of deliberate vulnerability. “Then explore it.”

Williams stared at her, at her open posture, her surrendering arms resting against the couch. Evelyn was not defying her. She was not mocking her. She was offering herself with a softness Williams had never seen.

“I want you to submit to me,” Williams whispered again.

Her hand drifted higher. “Like the others, I want to see admiration and desire in your eyes.”

Evelyn exhaled sharply, her breath unsteady. “Williams…” She closed her eyes, clenching her teeth to stifle the involuntary gasp that escaped.

“Dr. Niran Williams,” she corrected as her fingers touched where they shouldn’t, the gesture feather-light yet devastating. Evelyn’s body arched subtly, her breath catching between her teeth.

“Ahh…” The sound was a raw plea. Williams watched the rebel lose control, her hips twisting on the leather under the sudden rush of sensation, the fabric beneath Williams’s hand growing warm and damp.

“Tell me something,” Williams murmured, pressing further on the forbidden button before turning to a slow circular motion.

“Ahh!” Evelyn gripped the sofa, her back arching. “What do you want to hear?”

“Anything that comes from your heart.”

Evelyn reopened her eyes, which were glazed with pain and desire, and suddenly wrapped her arms tightly around Williams’s neck, pulling her down.

“Can you kiss me?”

“What?”

“Let me do it.”

She didn’t wait.

She leaned in and brushed her lips against hers, softly at first, then deeper, warmer, melting into her like a memory from another life.

Williams’s breath trembled.

Heat spiraled through her in ways she didn’t understand, didn’t want to understand.

She was still in control, yes, but under another form of control, and this one carried a particular, exquisite pleasure.

“You don’t want me to surrender to your orders,” Evelyn whispered hotly into her ear. “You want me to surrender to your desires, don’t you?”

Williams’s eyes flew open, but her hand did not stop.

The world blurred, the borders of reality dissolving into sensation.

“Admit it,” Evelyn insisted, kissing her again, a deep, consuming kiss. Then a moan, too loud and too close, tore from Evelyn’s throat.

“Niran! Ahh!”

And she collapsed back into the deafening sound of reality.

Williams was not in her office. She was in her vast marble bathtub, submerged under cooling water, the porcelain cold against her back.

She held her head, the whiskey and the fantasy leaving her disoriented and aching. She couldn’t recall when she had gotten into the shower. But this time, one thing was sickeningly clear: this dream had shown her what she wanted to do, what she desired, and she understood the meaning of the symptom.

Was Dr. Niran Williams projecting her obsession with medical control onto Evelyn?
Was it a sick desire to break that rebel spirit until it bent only for her?
Or was she truly getting lost in an endless, consuming maze of genuine, unwanted feelings?

Whatever the truth was, one thing became unmistakably clear:

It had to end.

Before, she no longer recognized herself.

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