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Lucas pales. Without missing a beat, Lana hurries toward the elevator at a brisk rate, forcing me to let go of her. She throws questions my way, trying to understand the situation. Lucas is right there with us, his face tense.
I don’t have time to wonder at his reaction because my mind is on the woman in my office.
The trip is short, barely a few minutes, but it somehow feels like hours.
Lana flies out of the elevator, leaving us in her dust. “Elise!”
By the time we enter the room, she has her arm around the shaking woman, helping her out of the bathroom. “You need a hospital, honey.”
Her voice is soft and kind, making me stare at her, dumbstruck. I’ve never seen her like this, so gentle.
Elise shakes her head, on the verge of tears. “No. I just want to go home.”
“That’s not a good idea, Elise.”
It’s Lucas who’s speaking now. He strides over to where Lana steadies the weak-looking receptionist who looks lost and is clutching her like she’s a lifeline. Lucas kneels at Elise’s feet. “Let me take you to a hospital.”
“It’s just a stomach bug,” Elise insists, but her expression tells me she has a strong suspicion that it’s something else that she doesn’t want to share with anyone.
“Stomach bug or not, it’s best a doctor takes a look at you.” Lucas sounds firm, his voice brooking no argument.
“I’ll throw up in your car,” Elise whispers, her eyes shining with barely restrained tears.
To my surprise, the lawyer’s voice is tender as he takes her hands and murmurs, “I’ll take the risk. Come on.”
Lana and I are ignored as he helps her up. Elise mumbles, wiping at her eyes, her voice childlike. “I don’t want anyone to see me.”
“Nobody will,” Lucas promises as he starts urging her toward the door.
Lana appears uncertain. “I’ll come with you.”
“I’ve got this.” Lucas shoots her a look, making her pause.
“Elise?” Lana asks, ignoring her friend. “Are you sure?”
Elise nods briefly, giving a watery smile. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine. I don’t want to be a bother.”
The door closes behind them, and Lana twist her hands helplessly.
The silence between us is deafening. I finally say,
“She knows it’s not a stomach bug.”
Lana turns to me with a frown. “What?”
I don’t wilt under her glare as she had clearly intended “You heard me.”
“You don’t know that, Oliver!” She scowls, and I feel this strange tightness in my chest at hearing her call me by my first name, effectively ripping away the barriers she has put between us.
Her fists are clenched at her side, worry and distress in those sea-green eyes that are narrowed in my direction, searching for an outlet for her frustration at being unable to help.
She looks beautiful, I think numbly. An avenging goddess.
The thought catches me off-guard.
Who knew I could be so poetic? My lips twist in a self-deprecating smile. “Do you want a drink?” I offer.
The sound of muted music is blaring under out feet. It’s an odd sensation, having her in my slightly darkened office.
