Page 89 of Undeniably Enemies

She waves that away with her good hand. “It’s Octavia, dear. You know that. Certainly, we can skip the formalities. I haven’t told Dr. Fritz I’m here yet, and I wouldn’t let security join me. It draws too many eyes.”

Christ. This is going to be a shit show.

Margot throws me a side-eye, clearly having the same thought as me.

“Octavia, can I help you get changed into a gown so we can examine you better?”

“Of course. Thank you, darling girl.” She pats Margot on the cheek as she shifts ever so slightly on the gurney so she can sit up more. She has blood on her pink cashmere sweater, and her cheek is already swollen. “I’m so grateful both of you are here.”

“Can you tell us what happened?” I ask.

“It was silly, really. I just missed the last step coming down the stairs and fell on my wrist. That’s all. No one needs to be bothered with this.”

I throw her a look because I’ve known this woman my entire life, and she’s no fool. Not by a mile. “Wren is down here.”

“As your medical student, she must be impossibly busy tending to her patients.”

“And everyone else upstairs?” Margot questions.

“I’m sure it’s no different for them.”

I raise an eyebrow at her, but I can’t argue with her. It’s Octavia. “Fine,” I grumble. “Margot, can you please help her get changed? Octavia, I’m going to get the portable X-ray machine, but I’m going to want a CT of your head.”

“Whatever for? I didn’t lose consciousness. I simply scraped up my face. I’m at Mass General Hospital being taken care of by Margot Albright and Jack Kincaid. Besides, it was just a silly little slip. Hardly a fall at all.”

“You have a broken wrist,” Margot deadpans, “and likely need stitches on your face.”

“Better than breaking a hip,” she throws back at us.

Touché.

“Fine. I’ll be back.” Already lamenting how this woman is running the show but also loving her for it, I make my way down the hall while Margot helps her get changed. The woman is wearing designer clothes that likely cost more than I earn in a year, and they’re covered in blood and are now trash.

I grab the X-ray machine and send Wynter Reyes—Mason’s mother—a text. She’s an orthopedic surgeon for the Rebels, but she’s also technically still part of the ortho practice here at the hospital, and I can tell by the way Octavia’s wrist is sitting, she’s likely going to need surgery.

Just as I’m wheeling the portable X-ray machine down the hall and get it right in front of Octavia’s room, Wren stops me. She looks around, thinking we’re alone, and shit, this is not the time for a chat.

“Hey, I was wondering if we could talk about last night?”

Shock hits me in the chest, and I forget almost everything else but the stunning blonde before me. “What about it?”

She smiles in just such a way, and it hits me like a bullet tothe chest. “I know you went for your interview today, and I heard it went well.”

That has me shifting in and hovering over her. “How did you hear that?” Then I laugh at my dumb question. “Layla.” Because Callan talked to her.

Wren thumps my chest. “Bingo. So, if you’re chief, I know you’ll be on the team to help with match placement.”

A slow smirk curls up my lips. “You wouldn’t be trying to seduce me in order to get me to place you here, would you?”

“What?” She looks appalled. “Of course not.”

“That’s a shame. I was hoping you were about to playLet’s Make a Dealwith me.”

She smacks my chest when she sees I’m kidding. “Very funny.” Her hand doesn’t leave my chest, and her touch is like fire in the best of ways, warm and enticing. She glances up at me through her lashes. “We’re not doing it again, and by that, I mean no more texts at all. I hope you get chief. And I’m not being a bitch or sarcastic. I mean it. I hope you get it because you deserve it, but I don’t want to mess that up for you, and that’s exactly what anything between us would do. I also want to match here. And in truth, you know I had a crush on you growing up and I’ll admit, it was a pretty big one. I’m afraid I’ll start to like you again if this thing between us continues.”

“And that would be bad,” I surmise, even if that’s the worst and best thing to hear.

“That would be bad. For both of us.”

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