“I’ll wait for you in the hall. Please take your time.”
He walks out, and I quickly change into my outfit and wrap the jacket around my waist to cover the bloodstains. They’ll probably never come out, and I’m going to have to throw the skirt away. But I’m too grateful to care. My child is going to be okay. That’s all that matters.
I take my purse and step out. The chauffeur is waiting, standing with hands clasped and feet spread.
“I need to fill out some paperwork for the discharge and instruct the hospital where to send the bills.”
“No need to worry about that. Everything’s been taken care of.”
Typical Ryder: take care of the hospital bills, but forget a fresh change of clothes for me. He isn’t used to handling such details. That used to be my job, but he doesn’t have me doing it anymore. I doubt his new assistant knows what’s going on. It takes a while for people to earn his trust.
Perry puts a hand at my elbow and escorts me outside. On the curb is an idling black Bentley. It’s so waxed and shiny I can use it as a mirror.
He opens the door for me, and I slide in. Then I stop short.
Julian Reed is in the car. He moves toward the window, giving me ample space on the luxurious leather bench—a subtle dig at my size? Although he’s Ryder’s father, they don’t share many similarities. He is blond, while Ryder is dark-haired. He is of average height, while Ryder is tall. He is petty and snide, while Ryder is not.
“Mr. Reed.”
“Hello, Paige.” He smiles, but the expression isn’t particularly welcoming. He tilts his head at the driver. “Perry, let’s go.”
The door shuts behind me with a solid thunk.
Chapter Two
Ryder
The chairs in this room are just as uncomfortable as the ones in the waiting room. The harsh fluorescent lighting doesn’t help either.
It really does have an effect. I feel like some kind of criminal, waiting in an interrogation room for the cops to question me.
When I stand up, my bones creak like they belong to an eighty-year-old. I feel eighty after sitting in that horrible chair for hours. I should go check up on Paige. This is taking way too long, and I have to know she’s going to be all right.
The door opens, and the nurse who told Mrs. Marshmallow to behave slips inside. Her golden hair is down, curling around her shoulders. She seems a bit taller, and I realize she’s swapped out her shoes. A pair of heels encases her feet. She closes the door behind her and faces me.
The light shines directly on her features. Her powder is fresh, and a fresh coat of red lipstick glistens on her lips. In an apparent attempt to make her eyes look larger, she’s put on layers of mascara until there’s more makeup than eyelashes. A cheap perfume stings my nose, and all my internal alarm bells go off.
There’s no way she’s here to update me on Paige.
“Finally!” She takes the front of her blouse with both hands in a Superman gesture and pulls. The cheap fabric gives way, and I bite back a groan. What the fuck?
“You have no idea how serendipitous it was that you showed up right after I spent an hour shopping at Victoria’s Secret.” Serendipitous. Do all nurses talk like that?
She licks her lips. “It’s as if the universe wants us to be together.”
“No, it really doesn’t.” I try to walk around her. I have zero interest in hooking up with anybody. But the woman is not at all amenable to moving away. The ripped shirt reveals tits that don’t even bounce when she steps closer to press them against me.
“You know you want this…” Her breathing grows louder as she cups her silicon boobs. They’re too large for her narrow body. “I’ve studied your type. You like them with big breasts. And blonde.”
She is somewhat correct. I also like women with an ass, not something that looks like it’s been run over by a steamroller a couple of times. “Lady, get the fuck away from me before I call the cops.”
“Oh, you won’t.”
I give her my best level stare. “Try me.”
“Is it because I’m not her?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Is it because I’m not a fat cow like her?” Her voice is getting loud, and anger lends a razor glint to her eyes. Oh boy.
“Paige is not a cow. She’s my fiancée.”
“She’s fucking fat! What the hell do you see in her? Why would you want her when you can have me? Haven’t you read all the letters I sent?” She drops her skirt, revealing thigh-highs and a lacy garter belt.
I’ve always thought nice lingerie improved a woman. But she’s an exception.
When I don’t react in the way she obviously expected, she spreads and bends her knees. The lewd gesture shows her panties—apparently made crotchless with scissors before she came inside the room—and her private parts.
Jesus, my eyes. Maybe one of the doctors here can induce strategic amnesia.
Crimson mottles her face and neck. “Why don’t you want this? Why don’t you want me? Can’t you see I’m all wet?”
Good fucking god. She’s gotta be off her meds. What the fuck is wrong with the hospital that they hired unhinged people like her? I reach for my phone. “I’m calling the cops. I’ve had enough.”
She lunges for me. “I am the Cinderella you need. I’ve waited so long for you!”
I sidestep her. High heels are not conducive for physical activity, and I’ve learned some moves from doing my own stunts in action flicks. She goes past and I open the door.
“I need security!” I yell into the hall. “Now!”
“No!” The psycho nurse comes after me, but she’s still hampered by her footwear. The cheap shoes clack on the linoleum. She hasn’t even bothered to put her clothes back on.
What a damn spectacle.
A nurse walking by gasps, her eyes wide.
“Get security,” I tell her. “Right now. Unless you want to hear from my lawyer.”
Near-Naked Nurse grabs my wrist. “Ryder! My prince!”
Yeesh. I yank my arm away. Her grip is stronger than expected, and it takes some effort to get free.
“Why are you doing this?” Tears gather in her eyes. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for you to realize the truth about us?”
“The only truth is that you need some serious help.” I stay in the hall, trying to ensure she stays here rather than wander off to other areas with young children. But she’s seriously making my skin crawl.
Her mouth pinches until the lips form a tight, ugly line. “It’s all that bitch’s fault! I’m gonna get her, you know!”
“Listen to me carefully. There is nothing between us. Nothing. If we were stranded on Mars, I wouldn’t want you. Understand?”
“You asshole! I sent you gifts!”
You and ninety-nine percent of my sociopath psycho fans.
She jumps suddenly and rams her face into my biceps. Her teeth cut into my skin, and I shove her away, palm to her forehead.
“What the hell?” I look down and see blood well in an arc.
A couple of men in dark blue uniforms show up. Thankfully they’re young and seem to be in good shape. Now they can deal with this crazy woman.