Page 45 of Doctor’s Forbidden Match

And God, that hurts when I say it out loud. The words sit heavy in the air between us, like admitting it makes it more real.

“I’ve never trusted him.” Brooke’s voice softens with sympathy.

“That’s true.” She never liked him from the start. She thought something was off about him but wanted to support me anyway.

We hang up after a few more minutes, and I stare at my phone in my hand, knowing I should leave it alone. Knowing that looking at that interview only upset me more; will only give his words power over me.

But not knowing is worse. I’ll create different worst-case scenarios in my head.

I take a breath and open the browser.

I find the article and look at the picture first. He’s posed on some trendy restaurant patio, one arm draped casually over the back of his chair, his other hand holding out a coffee cup and a leg crossed over the other. His smile is that practiced one—the one I used to think was charming, but now just looks calculated. Everything about him is carefully curated, from his artfully mussed hair to his designer sunglasses pushed up on his head.

What was I thinking?

I stare at his face, trying to remember what I saw in him, and come up empty. I wasn’t even that attracted to him, not really. We met at a party, one of those industry things where everyone’s networking and air-kissing (or ass-kissing) and pretending to be friends. And if I think about it, really think about it, he was waiting to find someone who could elevate him. Someone with connections. Someone whose name opened doors.

My chest tightens as the realization settles deeper. I don’t want a guy like that. I don’t want someone who sees me as a stepping stone or a status symbol. I want someone without the fame or the desperate desire to be my handbag. Someone who has their own life, their own passions, their own identity that doesn’t depend on mine.

Someone who cuts fishing trips short to make sure I’m okay, even when he doesn’t want to.

I blink at that last thought, my breath catching. Where did that come from?

Chapter 18

Zac

The irritation I felt about leaving the fishing trip vanishes the moment I see her. But listening to her director speak to her like she’s worthless? That makes my blood fucking boil. My teeth clenched so hard, I felt it in my temples, and I had to curl my fingers into fists at my sides to keep from ripping the phone out of her hand and telling that asshole exactly where he could shove his demands. But I saw the way she held herself during that call. Her shoulders were tight, chin lifted in defiance, even as her eyes dimmed, and I knew at that moment that this job means everything to her. So, I stayed put, even though every instinct screamed at me to intervene.

I head toward the cafeteria, my stride purposeful, even though I have no idea what I’m looking for. Something that might make her smile.

“Dr. Sterling.”

The voice stops me mid-step. I exhale slowly through my nose, recognizing that voice before I even turn around.

Mr. Peltz.

I pivot to see him approaching, his expression unreadable, and my guard goes up immediately.

We meet in the hallway, and I cross my arms over my chest, waiting.

“Meet me in my office. I need to talk to you about something.”

I pull out my phone and order food for Hannah, then head down the hall. I don’t bother knocking.

He’s already behind his desk by the time I sit into the chair across from him.

“How’s Hannah doing?” he asks like he actually cares.

“Better.” I keep my tone clipped, professional.

“I just got off the phone with the director—”

“Dain.” His name comes out like a growl.

Peltz doesn’t even blink. “Yes, him. And the network. We need to discuss Hannah’s recovery plan.”

The way he says it, with that satisfied little smile playing at the corners of his mouth, sends warning bells through me. I narrow my eyes at him, my shoulders tensing. Both of these guys are dicks, and when they agree on something, it can’t be good news.