Moving to her bedroom, Clovia stripped out of her clothing, washed her face, slathered on moisturizer, and went to bed. Her upcoming shift at the hospital would be interesting—she was scheduled to work with Dr. B. Clovia vowed to stay close to her… maybe she’d be willing to talk about what happened after Israel Adler carried her to his car. The good doctor wasn’t known for sharing information about her personal life, but perhaps she only needed a little prompting.
Bristol moved to sit in the chair facing Israel’s desk, but his frown stopped her before she could lower herself onto the soft leather seat. When she didn’t move, he shook his head before turning in his own seat and holding out his hand to her.
“Come here, Beautiful.” Her bare feet moved silently around the desk without her mind registering the movement.
“Thank you, Sweetheart. Did Kyle answer your questions?” Kyle texted Israel when he finished the call, assuring him everything had gone well but hadn’t gone into detail about their conversation.
“I didn’t really need to ask any questions. I apologize for insulting your character… that wasn’t my intention. I was reeling from the news another woman considers you her mate.” Her fingers were laced together so tightly, they were turning white. Bristol’s hands were small enough, he easily wrapped them both in his much larger one.
“We won’t always agree about everything, but there are a few things I can promise you without hesitation. Your safety and happiness will always be my number one priority, and I will never give you any reason to doubt my faithfulness—simply put, I’ll never cheat on you.” He gave her what his mom always called his boyish grin and added, “I won’t promise to never lie because birthdays, Christmas, and special surprises often require certain levels of deception.”
Bristol’s posture relaxed, and Israel was relieved his reassurance had been on point. Time to move on.
“I want you to look at some of the security footage from the outside the building. My brother, Bronx, encountered a woman, trying to get into the building. She told him she was my mate, a claim he already knew was false, so he refused to allow her inside. He tipped off the security team, then alerted me. When the night staff confronted her, she refused to give her name and swore she didn’t have any identification on her. Since it isn’t illegal to stand on the sidewalk, my men had no reason to hold her or to alert law enforcement.” He brought up the footage, beginning with the woman walking up the street several minutes before Bronx entered the frame.
“Clovia Williams.”
Israel’s vision went red for a split second, and he felt a growl rumble deep in his chest. He took a deep breath, making a concentrated effort to calm his anger.
“If she is claiming she’s your mate, why didn’t your brother believe her? How does he know it’s not true?”
What the fuck? When I find out who betrayed her trust, I’ll rip them to shreds.
“I’m sure Bronx heard that I met you at the reception. My brothers and sisters know I’ve been looking forward to meeting my mate, so word would have spread like wildfire. We are each other’s biggest cheerleaders and harshest critics, and none of us are swayed by the notoriety of any member of our family.” Her soft laughter was exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for. She was going to need a sense of humor to deal with the direction their conversation was heading.
“I work with Clovia, but I don’t know her well. I’m usually dealing with families or trying to wade through mountains of paperwork when the nurses are visiting. It isn’t that I’m trying to be a snob, though it probably seems that way.”
Re-reading Bristol’s file while he’d waited for her at the hospital had been enlightening, but listening to the nurses chattering down the hall had been even more so. As non-shifters, they never considered the possibility he could hear them. Most of the small group’s gossip centered around their plans for the next weekend—evidently, there was a hospital-sponsored picnic at the lake, no one wanted to miss. Some had already made plans while others were waiting to find out if they could find someone to cover for them.
Only once had the conversation turned to one of their co-workers. Several expressed concern about Dr. B’s exhaustion, wondering if it was safe for her to drive. He vowed to find out which of the nurses said she planned to drive Bristol home. The young woman was going to find herself on the receiving end of a hefty bonus.
The others reminded Nurse Considerate she was risking being fired for leaving the hospital before her shift was over, but she’d remained committed to making certain Bristol got home safely. He’d moved to the nurses’ station, hoping to identify the sweetheart among them, but his sudden appearance silenced their conversation.
“I’m waiting to drive Dr. Banks home. Can you tell me how much longer she’ll be?”
Before her co-workers could respond, he saw her walking down the hall. Bristol hadn’t seen him, but he’d known two things. One, she was only a couple of minutes from tumbling ass over tea kettle into an exhaustion-induced meltdown, and two, she’d fight to her last breath to hold it together when she saw him. Damn it, he had five sisters and knew how they rallied if they thought a man they were interested in was watching. Bristol Banks was every bit as strong and stubborn as his sisters, and the minute her eyes met his, he knew he’d called it right.
Returning his attention to the curvy armful sitting on his lap, Israel moved his hand in slow circles over her lower back, hoping she found the contact as soothing as he did. Listening as her mind tried to sort through the previous two days events, one word popped up time and again. Coffee. He chuckled, setting her on her feet.
“Come. Let’s get you caffeinated, so you’ll be able to focus. I don’t usually drink coffee, so I often forget others do—much to my family’s disdain. It seems I’m the odd-man-out when it comes to the elixir of the gods, as Asia refers to it.” The suite he’d chosen wasn’t large, but he’d remodeled the kitchen before moving in.
“Holy Martha Stewart. This kitchen is bigger than my entire apartment.” When he arched a brow in her direction, she read his doubt and nodded. “I’m not kidding when I refer to my hovel as small. It’s a studio apartment in a run-down building. I work a lot, so it doesn’t matter.” Israel wanted to laugh at her last comment, suspecting she used the simple explanation often.
“This kitchen is amazing, but it would be wasted on me. Cooking doesn’t seem to be in my skill set. One of my college professors tried to relate her upper-level pharmacology course to cooking, and I almost failed the damned class.” She rolled her eyes in exasperation, “I still think comparing cooking to chemistry is a staggering overestimation. Assuming people know the names of a zillion different ingredients is presumptuous. Why, in the name of all things holy, do they use so many foreign words to describe things? Some are Italian, some are French… the list is endless.”
Israel leaned his head back and laughed. Her mini-rant told him far more about her than the words alone. He was pleased she felt safe enough with him to be herself. Brilliant, beautiful, and a sense of humor? Fate had been good to him.
“I understand your frustration with the terminology since most medical terms are so easily understood.” He added a nod to the mocking comment, but she wasn’t going for it.