Page 229 of The Doctors Will See You Now

Plus, I was probably the last person he wanted to see greeting him at the door when he got home.

If he even gets to come back home…

Fuck. What if they kept him in custody? What if he got charged for those false accusations?

Another sob wracked my body, and it took all of my strength to move on to the elevator and hit the button for the lobby. Once the doors shut, I let my head fall back against the wall with a quiet thud and sighed.

I had to focus on something else besides breaking down. Now was not the time to lose myself to my emotions. I owed at least that much to Scott.

As the elevator doors opened, my eyes were assaulted with the flashes of cameras. Outside of the lobby doors of Scott’s apartment stood what felt like a hundred paparazzi snapping pictures and ready to pounce on anyone who left his building.

God, this was bad.

I took a deep breath, and with a hand covering my eyes, I walked outside and faced the media music. Immediately, voices called my name from every direction while the flash and click of cameras filled the air.

“Harlow! It’s Harlow Paige!”

“Harlow, over here!”

“Why did you write the article?”

“Did you fake your relationship with Scott?”

I wanted to engage. I wanted to respond. I wanted to tell every single one of these reporters to fuck off. But I knew enough about the media to understand that, although it was tempting as hell, this was not the time or place to issue a statement unless I wanted my words misconstrued and taken out of context.

The only right way to handle this situation was to keep my mouth shut, my head down, and get the fuck out of there.

But that still didn’t stop them from trying to bait me with questions that would strike a nerve.

“Are the accusations true?”

“Is Dr. Shepard a rapist?”

“Did he ever do anything sexually inappropriate with you?”

“Are you going to testify that he raped you?”

Holy fucking shit. Rape? Was this a goddamn joke?

Bile rose in my stomach, and I did my best to navigate through the mess of photographers and news reporters until I was able to hail a cab and slide inside to the safety of the back seat.

“Where to?” the cabbie asked once I shut the door, and I stared at him in the rearview mirror.

“Just… Just get me the hell out of here, please. Drive around until I can think straight.”

He nodded, and I sagged into the leather seat.

I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I had to come up with some kind of plan. It was times like these that I wished I had friends in high places.

You do…well, sorta… You have an ex in a high place…

Brent.

Fuck, was I really that desperate to go to him for help?

I scrubbed a hand down my face and hated that my gut response was, Yes, I am that desperate, but found myself directing the cabbie toward Brent’s office anyway. “City Hall, please,” I instructed.

“You got it.”