Page 18 of Indebted

He’d been the reminder I needed.

Justin was off-limits.

And nothing was going to change that.

Chapter 7

The reporter finally left me alone and went back to sitting with Justin while I busied myself taking notes on what adjustments I was going to make to their clinical charting system.

I tried not to listen. I mean, what did I care that Justin was using this as a means to make himself look good and get more rich people to donate to his cause?

All I needed to focus on was putting my nose to the ground and working. One quarter and my tuition would be paid for.

“So, how many high-profile celebrities have you treated since announcing the new project?”

Behind the safety of the monitor, I rolled my eyes. This guy sounded like a gossip writer.

“I don’t see how that has anything to do with the current project, also I’m not permitted to discuss my clients with you.”

My ears perked up.

Justin didn’t want to brag?

“Sure, sure, but that’s how you made it big, you did Baylor Switches’ nose before she got famous.”

“Again, I don’t see the relevance to my current project.”

I straightened up in my chair by an inch to slip a peek over the ledge.

Justin looked irritated and sexy as hell, while the reporter typed up notes.

“With this clinic spreading your name and brand further throughout LA, are you prepared for the influx of clients? Was that part of the plan? Are you expanding?”

A vein ticked in Justin’s forehead. “Mr. Gracelyn, the sole purpose of this clinic is to help those that need help. Cleft palates were something I specialized in during my residency, and I plan to continue giving back to the community by offering whatever services are needed. Many surgeons that have signed on for this are doing the same. This is a passion project of mine, something that has been a goal for many years and means a great deal to me. Many low-income families need financial assistance after traumatic accidents. If immediate attention isn’t given, injuries can become chronic, life altering. Improper setting of bones, untreated wound care, the list is endless. This has nothing to do with expanding my brand,” he spat the word brand, “and everything to do with improving quality of life for burn victims, amputees, and trauma patients. Now if you have any questions pertaining to what I just discussed, I would be happy to answer. If not, I believe this interview is over.”

I stared.

The reporter sputtered. I imagined his face was purple.

Justin’s eyes flicked to mine and I dropped back under the privacy of the reception ledge.

Holy shit.

Watching and listening to Justin put that man in his place was…electrifying.

Despite myself, a newfound respect for Justin bloomed.

I’d thought his clinic was nothing but a ploy for him to gain more attention. To hear Justin speak about it so passionately made me question everything I knew about him.

“You want me to what?”

Three days in and Justin wanted me in the patient rooms.

“Midge is tending to another patient, and this is only a consult. I need you to take notes; expectations, allergies, budget, etcetera, sound feasible?” Justin’s arms bulged where they crossed over his chest. He’d been a little short ever since the reporter visited. And I can’t say I blame him.

The article had been posted, with only one sentence about the lower income clinic.

Meanwhile the phones have been ringing off the hook. People forgetting they’d had Justin do their noses or Botox or breasts and now that he was back in the media, they wanted a follow-up.