Page 116 of Obsession

There’s a long line of black cars with tinted windows waiting in front and behind us in a long procession, and just as we exit, so do the occupants of those cars. In their pristine black suits, their earpieces, and the grim expressions on their faces, anyone would be intimidated.

I scoop her up in my arms, ignoring her gasp.

“This is all for you. I brought in my full security team and placed them here, hoping their presence will be sufficient for you to feel safe?”

Her eyes are wide and watery when they turn to me as if she doesn’t quite believe what I’ve done for her.

“I didn’t–“ she stammers, her eyes darting between me and the security team. “I mean, you really went for the shock factor, didn’t you? I look like a visiting dignitary.”

I’m not surprised to hear the snarky quip. In fact, if anything, it makes me feel a bit relieved because if she’s comfortable enough to snipe at me, she won’t have a panic attack once we get inside.

“Ready to go inside?”

“I can walk.”

“I’d rather carry you,” I say calmly, not ready to let her go.

Her injured arms and hands are loosely bandaged, and I can tell she wants to hold on to something from the way her fingers flex, so I secure my hold on her, and she gives me a stiff nod. She looks like a soldier about to go to war, and while the thought is amusing, my amusement fades when I see her expression fade as we stride into the hospital, flanked by Lars and Parker.

“I need a doctor,” I tell the wide-eyed nurse who greets us when we reach the station.

She looks at both men watching her intently, and then when she glances at me, she does a double take, recognition dawning in her eyes.

“What exactly is the issue, Mr. Middleton?”

I raise an eyebrow at the fact that the nurse knows my name. Perhaps we’ve met before, or maybe I’m more notorious than I thought.

“My fiancée,” I lie, enunciating the last word and tightening my hold on Megan. “She had an accident and fell on some shattered glass. Please get me a female doctor.”

“I apologize, Mr. Middleton,” the nurse says uneasily. “But you’ll have to wait a minute. We’re quite busy tonight.“

I smile at her, annoyance flashing in my eyes. “I don’t think you want to ask me to wait. My patience is running thin, and she’s in a tremendous amount of pain.”

I can see the nurse trying to stand her ground, clearly for the patients who are in the waiting room, but they are not my concern. This is why I need a permanent surgeon on my payroll.

“Nurse Paula.“ I glance down at her name badge before continuing in a pleasant tone of voice. “If I don’t get a doctor with female pronouns within the next three minutes, I will shut down this hospital in five minutes, whether it’s by setting fire to the building or buying it out with cash. I don’t care which method.”

“Hunter!” Megan quickly disapproves of the threat in my ear. I shush her with a soft pat on her thigh.

The nurse pales before stammering, “P-Please go to room four. I’ll send a doctor in to see your fiancée immediately.”

I see her try to glance in Megan’s direction, but I narrow my eyes at her, and she scampers off. The room we wait in has a surgical bed, and I advise Lars and Parker to stand outside the door in case she tries to send security to deal with me.

“I’m not your fiancée,” Megan hisses, her face still pale as she scoots closer to me when I place her on the bed. Her actions don’t go unnoticed by me.

I carefully unwrap some of her bandages. The wounds look red and inflamed. It’s probably a good thing I insisted on this hospital visit because I’m not sure I did the best job of pulling the glass out.

“Well, I’m too old to call you my girlfriend, and if I described you as the woman I’m sleeping with, you’d probably throw something at me.”

“I’ve never thrown anything at you,” Megan says indignantly, but her hands are cold to touch, and when I meet her eyes, I can tell she’s trying to hide how terrified she is.

“It’ll be over before you know it,” I assure her while cupping her cheek, wishing that she’d relax. I don’t know why I feel souncomfortable in the face of her crippling fear, but I choose not to overanalyze it. This isn’t about me.

The doctor, who arrives a few minutes later, is a middle-aged woman with her blond hair wrapped into a tight knot at the top of her head. The nurse has clearly already briefed her as she treads carefully around me, her voice painfully cheerful.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Yasmin. So what’s going on today, Miss Taylor? I see you have some injuries to your arms.”

I don’t miss the hint of curiosity camouflaged in a pleasant tone from the doctor. She’s skeptical about the nature of Megan’s injuries. I guess it’s common to assume the worst in a city like Los Angeles. I’m sure the physicians here have seen their fair share of abused women walk through the doors.

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