King's Passion

Then There Were Three

Chapter 27

Epilogue

Prologue

Quentin Dewayne Hinton was at a crossroads. Actually, he’d been there for quite some time. The hard part had been admitting it. Once upon a time, his father had told him that “pride was the bane of all men.” If anyone knew that, it would be his father. Roger Hinton was a proud man who ran his family like a corporation. His God was the Dow Jones, and his heart and soul belonged to the numbers in his bank account.

Chuckling at his analogy, Q climbed out of his black Mercedes and gave the parking deck a casual glance from behind his Oliver Peoples sunglasses. He slid his hand into the pants pocket of his gray, tailored Italian suit while he opened the glass door to the high-rise building with his other hand. Though he was nervous about this meeting, one would never know it by his confident stride through the Peachtree Tower. Inside the massive, ornate lobby, Quentin kept his focus straight ahead toward the brass elevator doors.

As luck would have it, a very tall and very beautiful woman stepped into the compartment behind him as he pushed the button for the thirty-third floor. As usual, he started his inspection from the feet up. Pretty toes, nice ankles, firm calves. So far, everything had his imaginary dog tail wagging. Amazing legs, slim waist—by the time he made it to the woman’s long neck, he was turning toward her ready to spit his best pick-up line.

But then the image of Alyssa Hinton’s face smiled.

Quentin jumped back.

“You know it never would have worked between us,” she said.

“What?” He blinked and then snatched off his shades.

“Are you okay?” the beautiful woman who was not Alyssa asked, frowning at him.

Quentin quickly glanced around the small compartment and saw that they were the only two people in the elevator.

“Sir?” The woman’s brows dipped in concern and suspicion. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“I…uh.” He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. “I guess I was awed by your beauty.”

The woman’s expression clearly reflected that she wasn’t buying his answer and she inched closer to the corner of the elevator car.

Q didn’t blame her. He rubbed his eyes and slid his sunglasses back on just as the elevator arrived on his floor. He tossed the woman another quick smile but then rushed out of the small compartment.

Pull yourself together, man.

He squared his shoulders again and marched toward suite thirty-three hundred. Once in the quiet office, he felt another wave of relief to see the lobby was empty.

“May I help you?” the receptionist asked from behind the counter.

Q approached the girl-next-door ebony cutie with a smile. “Yes. I’m here to see Dr. Turner.”

“Name?”

“Quentin Hinton.”

The woman looked down and ran her finger over a column of names in her appointment book. “Ah. Here you are. If you can just sign in for me here.” She handed over a clipboard.

Quentin took it and the pen and scrawled his name. When he looked up to hand the clipboard back to the receptionist, Alyssa smiled.

“The doctor will be with you in a second.”

Q blinked and then snatched his shades off again.

The receptionist frowned. “Are you all right?”

You mean other than my seeing things? “Yes. I’m fine. Thanks.” He quickly turned toward the waiting area and commanded himself to pull it together. He sat down and slipped his sunglasses in the inside breast pocket of his coat jacket. A second later an office door to his right opened.

A tall, older dark-skinned brother in an Armani suit crossed the threshold while still shaking hands with an attractive, red-bone sister who was needlessly hiding her curves in a black, shapeless skirt-suit.

“Thank you, doctor,” Mr. Armani said, cheesing at her as he released her hand.

“I’ll see you next week,” Dr. Turner replied, smiling before turning her soft brown eyes toward Quentin.

“Mr. Hinton?”

“Yes.” He stood up, feeling his nerves twist.

“Hello. I’m Dr. Julianne Turner. Won’t you come in and have a seat?”

Q forced a smile and strolled into the office. He hesitated for a second before he took his seat in the chair in the psychiatrist’s office. He shifted a bit, trying to make himself comfortable, but that wasn’t possible on the first visit.

“You look uneasy,” the doctor said, removing her golden pen from her breast-pocket.

“Nah. Nah,” Quentin said, shifting some more. “I’m good.”

“Uh-huh.” Dr. Turner clicked the back of the pen and started writing.

Q frowned. What the hell had he done to warrant her writing something down already? He leaned forward to read her handwriting on the yellow tablet, but before he could make out the words, the doctor looked up with a knowing smile.

“So what brings you here today…do you mind if I call you Quentin?” she asked.

“No. Please do.” This should’ve been the one question that Quentin was prepared for. But instead his brain zoned out, leaving him staring at the doctor as if he was waiting for an answer.

“Please don’t tell her that you think you’re still in love with me,” Alyssa said from across the room. She was wearing those wonderful tight blue jeans and the white top that she’d worn the day they had gone horseback riding together and the first time he’d kissed her under an oak tree.

“Mr. Hinton?” Dr. Turner interrupted.

He paused for a couple more seconds and then said, “Love.”

Dr. Turner’s brows arched upward at the answer.

Across the room, Alyssa groaned.

“Are you in love, Quentin?”

Q’s head turned toward Alyssa, but she was gone. “I thought I was.”

“But you’re not sure?”