Page 51 of Bad Blood

“You okay?” Luca places a hand on my back as I crumple forward, steadying myself with my hands on my knees.

I acknowledge him and nod, focusing on the air passing between my lips as it fills my lungs.

“Call for help.” Luca grasps my arm, his grip tightening.

“I’m fine.” I hold up a hand. “I just need a second.” The flashes of light behind my eyelids start to fade as much-needed oxygen surges through me, and I remind myself that it’s important to breathe. I stand, brushing the back of my hand over my mouth. “I’m okay.”

Luca frowns, his nostrils flaring. “Dammit. I was afraid of this. Come on.” He dismisses the gathering crowd as he pulls me after him toward his office. “Nothing to see here.”

When we enter HR, Luca drops my arm, and I continue after him. His secretary stands, placing both hands on her desk as she gets a look at me, her mouth agape. “Is everything okay?”

Luca brushes her off with the tip of his head as he ushers me into his office from the doorway, where I’m standing with a deer-in-headlights expression, I’m sure. “Take a seat. You need water?” I use the files in my arms as a shield, pulling them over my chest. Shit. Why didn’t I leave these? And why in the hell do I have them in the first place?

He leans back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head, the buttons on his white shirt straining against his chest and middle, his navy tie lolling to the side.

I sink into the chair closest to the door, angling it so I can escape as soon as this is over.

He lets out a sharp breath before he says, “We’re looking into mandatory time off.”

“What? No. I can’t.” My mind instantly flies to Liam. “I have a patient on Monday . . .”

He holds up a hand. “I knew you’d refuse. Will you at least hear me out?”

I ease back in the chair until my spine settles against the cushion.

He rests his elbows on his desk and steeples his fingers, watching me like I’m a gazelle that’s about to bolt. “Lauren already cleared your schedule”—I go to protest, but he holds up a hand—“for the rest of the day. We have counselors prepared to—”

“No.” Talking about my feelings and what’s going through my mind is where I draw the line. I don’t care how many times I run through scenarios of how it could have played out differently. There’s no way I’m discussing it with anyone.

He pulls in a long breath. “I figured you’d say that too.” He slides a paper across his desk. “I need you to sign at the bottom.”

I hesitantly reach for it and scan the words, stopping where he’s expecting a signature.

“It’s the weekend—two days—you can at least give me that, right? You know how the board members get, and they insist. With the lawsuit and now this, they’re trying to keep the hospital out of the limelight. I pulled some strings, but you’ve gotta help me out.”

My head draws back. Of course they’re looking out for the well-being of the hospital. Reputation first, everyone else last. I half-expected to be forced to take some time off after the lawsuit and all the attention it got, but as the days passed, it fell to the wayside.

I can handle two days.

I pull the pen from my breast pocket and scribble on the form before passing it to Luca.

He offers his approval with a dip of his chin. “Also, I know you have a lot going on, and I meant to call you in earlier in the week, but”—he hesitates for longer than what’s acceptable, clears his throat, and averts his gaze—“I spoke to Kline.”

My chest constricts with the strength of a boa constrictor. And I can’t breathe. I wipe a palm across my lab coat, my eyes roving over the file Luca opens and spreads in front of me. Dammit. I should have expected this.

“I found some charts with some questionable changes of information.”

I tear my gaze from his, settling the files I brought next to me in the chair. I take a couple of seconds to gather my composure, trying to remind my body to do the functions it should do automatically. But it reminds me I don’t have the capacity to deal with anything else at the moment.

Luca readjusts in his seat, his steady gaze dissecting my every move.

I return my attention to the inside of the manila file.

Ramona Harrison.

Wrong lab tests. No MRI. Misinterpreted findings. A surgery for a mass that didn’t exist.

“Does that look familiar?”

---