Page 8 of Love JD

“You need to be more careful,” he scolded softly. “If Zev hadn’t been there, you could have died. You don’t get to do dangerous things if there’s a risk you’ll faint in the middle of it.”

“I know,” I muttered, duly chastised. “I said I was sorry.” No risks. No chances. Sit there, exist, but don’t make it too much of a burden on anyone else. It was the message that had been stamped into my psyche like the permanent work of an embossing tool. They meant it in kindness—in worry for me. But the result remained the same: I needed to make my existence as safe and devoid of drama as humanly possible, so I didn’t inconvenience everyone with my illness.

Azura marched back into the room, took one look at me, and then slid a silent message to Tristan that very clearly said, “leave her alone.” “How about I help Isla change out of Zev’s coat and get her settled a little better? Zev just said he’s talking to the doctor.”

Tristan held up his hands, his eyes sparking with admiration as he stared at Azura. “You’re the boss.”

Blech. Gross. Tristan left, and blushing furiously, I let Azura help me sit forward so she could briskly slide the jacket off my arms and swish the sweater over my head. I gritted my teeth against a scream as she tenderly fed my feet through the shorts and helped me shimmy them up my hips. I rolled the turtleneck collar up over my mouth and peeked at her sheepishly. “Thanks.”

Sitting at my feet again, Azura gave me an amused eyebrow tilt. “It’s no big deal, Isla.”

Only, it was. When I fainted at school, my classmates freaked out. If I fainted in public, it was ten times worse, and I often had to fend off an ambulance that would cost me an arm and a leg. I’d actually reached the point where I preferred to stay home all the time if I could, but I had to go to school and work. Although my co-workers at the temp agency always explained my condition to the managers at whatever assignment I’d been given, and they often saved the least stressful ones for me, it didn’t keep me from ending up in humiliating situations on the regular.

A knock on the door sounded, and Zev leaned in, holding onto the doorframe. “A word?” Azura waved him in. He ambled in, tossing his phone between his fingers in a deft, unconscious gesture. “Dr. Callaway said he’d rather have her at his center in the city. He promises to keep it on the down-low, but they need to X-ray her ankle.”

I was afraid of that. “Okay,” I agreed reluctantly.

Zev came to stand in front of me, his hand sliding his phone into his pants pocket. He kept his hand there, and he gazed down at me with a darkly amused expression. “Are you going to faint if I carry you again?”

My cheeks went oven range hot. “I didn’t faint because you were carrying me.”

Azura pressed her dusky lips together like she was fighting a laugh. She schooled her features and looked up at her brother in censure. “Be nice.”

“We have a problem,” Tristan announced, breezing in without knocking. Jesus, what if I’d still been dressing? Tristan never had been good about boundaries. He held up his phone. “You’re all over the news.”

“I assumed so,” Zev drawled. “The reporters were everywhere. I had to kick half a dozen of them to get through the doors.” Tristan showed him the article without another word. Zev read it. His dark, slashing eyebrows went straight up. “Oh.”

“What?” I asked nervously.

“Relax,” Azura soothed, patting my good leg. “I’m sure it’s not that—” She paused, having pulled it up on her own phone. “Oh.”

I didn’t even know where my phone was. I’d probably left it in my car. “What?” I demanded again.

Tristan looked at a loss. Azura fumbled for something to say. Zev shoved Tristan’s phone back at him. “The headline says, ‘Too Hot to Handle, Heiress Faints After Illicit Tryst with Hotshot Lawyer.’”

I digested that, throwing all the words around in my head and pairing them with the pictures they’d probably taken of me practically naked in his arms. I felt my blood pressure drop at the same time my heart rate kicked up, and I clenched all my muscles, willing my body not to respond by passing out again. “Uhm,” I squeaked.

“For fuck’s sake, Zev,” Tristan growled, crossing the room to me. “Isla, breathe. Here, drink this and just keep calm.”

I sucked in breaths through my nose and drank the sports drink. Zev had pulled out his phone and frowned at the articles. “Oh classy. Here’s another one. ‘Socialite Caught—Scandal for the Valeharts.’”

“Will you stop that?” Azura snapped.

“Oh my God,” I moaned. “They think I’m a—they think I did things.”

Zev looked immensely entertained by my choice of words. “What things, pray tell?”

“No one is going to assume anything about you, Isla,” Tristan barreled on, spearing Zev with another reproachful look. “We’ll fix it.”

“How?” I challenged, suddenly fueled by my bone-deep exhaustion and overall irritability with my life in general. “How are you going to fix this? There’s nothing you can say that will explain me appearing naked in some other guy’s jacket. Everyone is going to think I’m-I’m a—” I couldn’t even get the words out.

“Who cares?” Zev asked with derision. “So, they think you like sex in the woods. Who doesn’t?”

I choked, my vision going black.

“Zev, disrespectfully, shut up,” Tristan growled. “Isla, calm down. We can fix this. It’s just a matter of PR. Azura is great with this stuff.”

“Not that good,” Azura muttered.

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