Page 25 of Boss Abroad

I force some oxygen in through my nostrils and exhale long enough to make a new hole in the ozone layer. “Please free your agenda for the next hour. I have a situation for you to handle to the best of your ability and discretion. The FC is in the fucking tabloids enough as it is and we don’t want any more scandalous headlines. Correct?” I can hear her cloying breathing, so I know she’s just mute, not dead. “Correct, Miss Groff?”

“Absolutely. N-no pr-problem, Mr Gunn. I’m sending it right now and I’ll be on call for further instructions.”

If she’s stuttering now, imagine what she’ll be like when she reads my fucking amendments. God help her.

I hang up and refresh my email non-stop until the contract comes in. I make it so April will be legally obliged not to reveal her previous or future arrangements with myself and that she’s prohibited from offering her services to anyone else inside this club. Sure, I’d rather write “world” instead, but that sounded a tad unreasonable.

Fuck me in the ass with a razor blade and pour some lime juice as lube. Nothing about what I’m doing is reasonable.

Once I’m done, I send the document back to Miss Groff and tell her I’ve been made aware that Max has an escort named April in the building, possibly acting as another assistant or masseuse and that I regretfully have engaged her in an activity before. I ask for her utmost discretion to handle this situation and avoid any of this getting out of hand or becoming public knowledge.

Then I pour myself a scotch and drag my chair to the other side of my office, to where I’ll have the best view to watch April being escorted out of here. Pun not intended.

CHAPTER TWELVE

april

Max drives me to the stadium and tells me all about his physiotherapy sessions, plural, with Dominique yesterday. They arrived in London a day before me and were already at it yesterday. As was I, so to speak.

He talks fast, chest puffed out like a rooster at dawn, telling me how great he feels and that he doesn’t even need the brace anymore. Is it something in the water that makes everyone in London a doctor? I’ll be the judge of that. I manage to keep my thoughts to myself and just give him a side eye.

In all fairness, Max is behaving better than I expected as a post-op patient and I don’t want to ruin that by telling him off. He’s following every piece of advice we’ve given him, and the results are beyond my highest hopes. Or just what Preston expected.

So I let him go on and on, and in no time I’m smiling too, because his pride and excitement are just irresistible. I borrow his phone to let Preston and Calista know I’ve lost mine and contact Uber in the hope that the driver found it.

He parks his flashy car near the entrance, runs to open my door, and holds a hand out to help me. I take it because, goddammit, this car is ridiculously low. Once I’m out, he holds both my hands and stands in front of me.

“Thank you, Dr. Hadden.” I’m taken aback by the unusual seriousness in his voice. “Coming here was a big ask, I know.” He looks down, like he’s a bit embarrassed, but when he looks back up at me again, the grin I’ve come to know, and seen countless nurses fall hopelessly for, comes out to play. “But I must say, it feels good to have my surgeon and my physiotherapist all the way here, in my corner.”

He gives me a quick peck on the cheek, and pulls my hand, guiding me inside before I get to reprimand him for the, I don’t know, millionth time.

Max is more touchy than I consider ideal between a patient and his doctor. But I know that he’s like that with everyone, so I try not to read his behavior as inappropriate or take it too personally. I still don’t like it, though.

Dom, the physiotherapist, is already at reception waiting for us and Max wastes no time introducing his doctors to everybody. He wants to show us every bit of the stadium. The new owner just renovated it and so far it looks like a work of art. The facilities are the best and most modern I’ve ever seen, not that I’m the biggest soccer—sorry, football—fan. No, not sorry, that’s never going to happen. Soccer. It’s soccer.

I’m so delighted and distracted that my nerves about the meeting take a back seat. A lovely lady from HR joins us for the welcome tour and I’m about to be shown inside my new office when another woman comes sprinting down the hall. She looks me up and down as she doubles over, hands on her knees. She still hasn’t caught her breath when she asks between gasps if I’m April.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I answer, a bit confused, a lot wary.

“Hi, I’m Melanie Groff, head of PR. Would you mind coming with me for a moment? I have some paperwork to discuss with you.” She takes me by the elbow and before I can say anything, I’m being dragged away.

“Get her back to me soon, Melanie,” Max yells.

Her laughter comes out in a weird pitch that might hurt a dog’s hearing. “Of course, Max.”

Melanie takes me inside her office and offers me a seat. She’s blushing, sweating, looking so uncomfortable, and I’m clueless as to why.

She opens and closes her mouth like she doesn’t know where to start. Is she sick and asked me here because I’m a doctor?

“Are you okay, Melanie? How can I help you?”

“April, I must confess this must be the most embarrassing moment of my career. I just want to let you know I’m not passing any judgment on your… occupation. Your body, your choice.” She clumsily throws her fist up into the air. “You do you. But it’s my job to keep the club from the inflammatory headlines and…”

What? She lost me but keeps talking, making no sense whatsoever, going out of breath, gesturing non-stop. Is she having an anxiety attack?

I have no idea what she’s talking about, so I interrupt her. “Wait, wait, slow down. Are you okay? Do you need my services? Do you need help with—” Now it’s her turn to cut me off, her eyebrows shooting to the sky.

“What? No! I certainly do not need your services.” She laughs it off. “No offense, please. You’re absolutely gorgeous, but I’m married and I’ve only ever been with a woman that one time and…”

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