“Ye—yes,” the caller stammered.

“He’s still with his wife, isn’t he?” It was more of a statement, which was confirmed when Celeste didn’t answer. “Please stop listening to his words, and start looking at his actions. He’s got it made. She’s not leaving, you’re not leaving, so what’s his motivation to change and give either of you what you need?” Angel tried to keep her voice even, but an angry flush was coming up under the skin of her face and neck. “It’s both of the women in this situation that are being hurt. You have to step back and look at this objectively. How does he make you feel? And I don’t mean during sex or when he’s trying to convince you that you’re the love of his life. I mean when you’re sitting in the dark alone, and he’s gone home to his wife.”

“Horrible. Lonely. I’m heartbroken. It hurts.” The girl snuffled.

“I know it hurts, and you deserve so much more. You deserve to be the only one, to be cherished and loved. Not used when it’s convenient.”

“You’re right,” Celeste admitted reluctantly.

“Good. So what are you going to do?”

After a pause, the woman answered. “End it.”

“Good girl. You’re doing this for yourself, Celeste. He’ll probably beg and plead, that’s how men like him manipulate women. But stay strong, and don’t give in to his bullshit. Go find someone who deserves you. Okay, honey?”

“Okay. Thank you, Dr. Hemming,” she sniffed.

“You’re welcome. Call me in a few weeks to let me know how you’re doing. Be strong, Celeste.”

Angel took a deep breath. The anger on her face was clear in the tight line of her mouth and the furrow between her neatly waxed brows. She shook her head, and Darian wondered if she was going to say something derogatory about that last caller’s guy. He waved his hands and shook his head. One thing he’d learned in the short time he’d known Angeline Hemming: she took no prisoners and spoke her mind without thinking about it first.

No, Angel. Don’t cuss out the bastard, his mind raced. Not on live air.

“Well, this is Dr. Angeline Hemming,” Angel said as she took the next call, “What is your confession?”

Darian breathed a sigh of relief.

“I confess that I’m sick to death of my boyfriend’s arrogant, offhanded manner and the way he treats me!”

“What’s your name?”

“Whitney,” the woman spat as if she hated her own name.

“Well, Whitney, you sound pretty sure of yourself, so I bet you already know the answer that you’re seeking,” she laughed into the microphone. “It’s refreshing, actually,” Angel said dryly, the corners of her mouth turning up in amusement.

“He’s turned into such a bastard! He totally takes me for granted. I mean, I give him everything, and he doesn’t even know I exist! He works all the time, and we never go anywhere that isn’t a company obligation or charity thing. He spends most of his free time with his damn friends, and when we do have sex, he leaves right after.”

Ugh. I know the type, she thought and leaned her chin into her hand, elbow resting on the desk. The index finger on her other hand absentmindedly drew patterns across the smooth surface. “Do you live with him?”

“No. He, uh, well, I have my own place. Lately, I feel like we hardly see each other and when we do, it’s because I’ve asked to see him. And, then he turns it around on me… saying I nag him.”

“Um, yes, I can see why you’d be upset. So… I don’t get it. What’s in it for you?” she asked flatly. Darian threaded his hands together behind his head as his face twisted in a weird way. Angel shot him a questioning look. He shook his head and pointed toward the phone.

“Exactly. He’s out with his rat pack tonight, and I’m stuck in my apartment. He’ll probably come back and expect me to service him.”

Angel sat up in her chair. “Oh, boy’s night out? Well, I think that’s good for men on occasion—male bonding and all—but not if he disrespects you in the process. Except, why are you stuck? Why aren’t you out yourself? Let him know that you’re not sitting around waiting. You should show him you have your own life.”

Whitney sighed heavily and her voice was flat. “He wouldn’t care.”

“Whitney, I don’t understand. You seem to be a very smart woman. You clearly see the problem; so why aren’t you doing something about it? Why would you want to be with a man who doesn’t care about you? Take back your power.”

“Are you kidding? He’s got the power in everything! It’s just that… well, he’s everything I want in a man!” the woman whined.

“That’s not what it sounds like to me. You have to figure out what you need and what you’re willing to accept. What’s his first name?” She liked to have names to put with personas in her calls. It somehow made it more real, more personal.

“Alexander.” The answer was detached, and Angel wondered if the man was the only one to blame.

Darian ran a hand over his mouth. “Fuck!” he said under his breath and sat up straighter.

“Well, have you told Alexander how you feel? What you need? I think as women, we tend to want men to anticipate our every need, but that’s not always realistic. Sometimes they need to be told. They don’t process things in the same way we do. You can’t expect to get what you want if you don’t ask for it.”

“Ugh, that’s so unromantic! I want him to know what I need and provide it for me. I want him to want to provide it.”

“Whitney, you need to talk to him, but don’t sound whiney or needy when you do it. Tell him what you need and then go from there.”

“He’s been so withdrawn from me. I hardly know him anymore,” she said miserably. “He makes me feel… invisible. But I can’t seem to leave him.”

“What do you like about him?”

“He’s gorgeous, successful, and wealthy. He’s an executive of a huge company, and he takes care of me. He’s the type of guy I need to be with.”

Angel’s brow dropped and her eyes narrowed in understanding. This woman wasn’t all she pretended to be.

“Whitney, forgive me, but is this about love or status?” There was silence on the other end of the line, so Angel continued after a few seconds. “What would make you feel visible?” Angel asked while secretly cringing, waiting for the unwanted answer she knew was to follow.

“It is about love!” she retorted sharply, a little too sharply for someone supposedly heartbroken. Angel’s eyebrows shot up in doubt, and Darian sat as still as a statue. “He just needs to pay attention to me, take me out, and come over more.”

“Well, then try to work it out. Ask him what he needs from you as well. Chances are he’s not getting all he needs either. Men stay with women who make them feel good about themselves.”

“He’s not leaving… he’s just distant.”

Darian was cranking his right hand in a circle, motioning for Angel to wrap it up before another commercial break.

“I have to go to commercial, Whitney, but if he’s checked out of the relationship, maybe he has a reason. If you think he’s insensitive or disinterested after you discuss this with him, then maybe you should consider your options. If you love each other, he’ll want to talk to you and work it out, but you have to tell him the truth. Good luck.” She ended the call. “I’ll be right back with more calls and dedications.”

As the commercials played, Darian sat in silence.

“What were those faces about?” Angel asked.

“Mmmm—I think I know her. And if that’s who I think it is, she’s not telling the whole story.” His expression filled with disgust.

Angel smiled at him. “There usually are two sides to everything but I’m at a disadvantage here. I only get to hear one.”

“In this case, that is too true. She’s dating my best friend. He will be so pissed when he finds out she’s calling and talking about him on air. I hope that not many people put two and two together, because he’s not exactly low key in this town. All she wants is the status, the material shit he represents, and his dick.”

“Nice! Why does it always come down to someone’s dick, huh?” she laughed. “Is she telling any part of the truth? Be honest.”

He bristled. “Well, Alex doesn’t get involved like that. He’s very focused on his work, and he’s successful because of it.”

“Sounds like every woman’s dream guy. Truly,” she scoffed. “So she was telling the truth.”

Darian rose in defense of the faceless Alex. “It works for him. He’s very clear going in that it’s not going to be a love affair, and if the woman enters into it thinking that she can change him, that’s not his fault.”

Angel stopped and shot him a warning look, her dark brown eyes flashing sharply.

“You didn’t just say that did you, Darian?” She shook her head and huffed. “That’s so typical! Nice attempt to justify using someone. What do you and Mr. Perfect think happens to a woman who is with a man for any length of time, hmmm? I’ll tell you. She either falls in love or walks away. Clearly, your friend knows how this shit works; hence his carefully laid out escape clause. I mean, if he’s as brilliant as both you and this Whitney woman would have me believe, he knows full well what he’s doing and what will happen eventually,” Angel retorted with a sly smile.

Darian thought Angel was too damn smart for her own good, and pair that with her sexy little bod and business suit—watch out. She was like napalm.

“No. Whitney isn’t in love. She’s a greedy bitch, and I think Alex may pick them based on that particular feature, because he has the means to fulfill that need. His relationships are all about convenience. They’re consenting adults that both get something they need from the other.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Hans Christian Andersen. Maybe if you repeat it enough your little fairy tale will become reality. In anything beyond a fling, someone falls in love, and if the other doesn’t feel the same way or acknowledge it, there’s a big pain-fest. It’s not some cataclysmic secret of the universe. It’s a big, ‘duh.’ Your friend wants someone who needs him financially, because it gives him all of the control.”

Darian really couldn’t argue her point, and he didn’t want to. Alex did like to keep control. Of everything. “What about you? Do you have a man? You’re a beautiful woman, Angel.”

“You’re kidding, right? The guy would have to be wow.”

Darian huffed, put off at the thought that this woman he’d placed on a pedestal, would be lowered to a level the likes of the nefarious and money-grubbing Whitney.

Angel’s eyebrow shot up at the expression on his face, and she put a hand up.

“Hold up. Not necessarily in looks, but certainly in character. I’m not saying I’m against having a relationship, but after listening to all of this crap? Ugh. I know what I want and what I will accept. My boundaries are firmly established and I have no problem walking if my needs aren’t met. I certainly wouldn’t be so insecure to put up with this type of one-sided bullshit.”

“What about sex?” His dark gaze settled on her face, and his eyes narrowed. She knew that look. She’d seen it many times before. It was the predator, sizing up its prey, trying to figure out if the kill was worth the chase.

“I’m not sure this is an appropriate convo to be having with my producer, but since this show is what it is, I’ll answer. Sex is sex,” she shrugged. “I’m not a prude. Physical release is part of being healthy on many levels. Men aren’t the only ones that can leave emotion at the door for some good old fashioned bump and grind.” She bit her lower lip, trying to hide a smile at the shocked look on his face. “When I need it, I have… options.”

Darian opened then shut his mouth again.

Good. Serves you right, asshole, she thought. “Not all women can handle that. Some can. Generally speaking, it’s like I said, short-term is okay with no strings attached, but that’s it.”

“What an intriguing image, Angel. Thank you,” Darian answered cautiously.

“Well, don’t get too excited, boss. You’ll be disappointed.”

Darian doubted that he would be. In fact, if he wasn’t careful, his imagination was going to give him a very tangible problem, so he decided it was time to change the subject.

“I got the promo images back. They look hot. The phones will be ringing off the hook next week.”

“I have to get back to work, you know? My boss will have my ass if I screw this up.”

He was pulling out his cell phone and leaving the sound booth. “You do that. Do you have it from here? I’d like to go meet my boys.”