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“Dungeon parties,” she added, her eyebrows raised.
“Private parties,” I said again, and when she and her partner indicated they were interested in a threesome, I turned them down. You can contact Derek Richardson if you want. He’ll back up my story.”
“The Derek Richardson?” she said, an expression of surprise on her face. I grimaced, realizing that I’d outed him as a BDSM aficionado, but he was so rich that I doubted it would affect his business.
I nodded. “Yes. I spoke with him about Lisa and he said he was concerned about her mental health. You should talk to him.”
She wrote something down on a sheet of paper. “You seem to have surrounded yourself with troubled women, Dr. Morgan.”
I said nothing in reply. What could I say? I had the bad luck to run into two women who had emotional issues.
“So are you going to run the article as it is?” I asked, impatient.
She shrugged. “I’ll think about it. I’ll talk to legal and see what they say but I can’t promise anything. You must realize, Dr. Morgan, that your situation is public now. If I don’t run this story, some other paper will. We have the exclusive interview with this woman. We’ll run it. I have a responsibility to the shareholders.” Then she shrugged as if she had no other choice.
“Can you include some of your other sources?” I asked. “Sources that support my side of the story, at least?”
“Of course,” she said. “But you have to understand that people will tend to believe this woman over you and over your friends and acquaintances. But you have a very stellar career as a neurosurgeon and your volunteer work for Doctors Without Borders. That may have some bearing on how people perceive the story. You know what they say – the bigger they are, the harder they fall…”
I stood up, my fists clenched at my side as I tried to get a hold of my emotions.
“If you have nothing else, I have work to do.”
She nodded and leaned back. “I’m sorry to have to give you this news. Considering your wife is still recovering and your baby is home from the hospital, I’m sure this is pretty upsetting.”
I turned to go, frustrated that I couldn’t do anything to stop her from running with the story.
“Good luck,” she said when I got to the door. “You’ll need it.”
I didn’t respond, slamming the door a bit too hard behind me.
I strode down the hallway, past the receptionist and to the elevator. I stood with my back to the room and tried to get control over myself but it was hard. I could see the headlines now, and knew that there would be significant fallout. Not to mention making me seem unsympathetic to the police, in whose eyes I would be a suspect no matter whether it was true or not.
I had to meet with Lara and go over things as soon as possible, so while I took the elevator down to the main floor lobby, I called her on my cell but there was no answer. I left a quick message and then took my car back to the 8th Avenue apartment, glad to be going home to Kate but more than a bit upset with what I knew would be appearing in the papers the next day.
When I arrived home, Kate was sitting with Sophia on the couch. Kate looked freshly dressed and washed, wearing a different outfit from what she wore when I left. It made me feel good to see her there, with Sophie on her knee.
“I’m so glad to be back,” I said and bent down to kiss Sophie and then Kate. “Home to my two favorite girls.”
“We’re glad you’re back,” Kate said and forced a smile that even I could tell was fake.
"What's the matter?" I asked, alarmed at the paleness to her skin. She looked as if she didn’t feel well. "You look a bit pale."
“I'm fine. Just a bit tired. If you want to take Sophie, I’ll get our supper. Quance delivered. Ribs, salad and some Greek rice. How does that sound?”
“Fantastic.” I bent down to take her out of Kate’s arms. “Just what the Doctor ordered.”
I carried Sophie to the kitchen where plates were set out on the granite island. We had a formal dining table but Kate and I preferred to sit at the island and look out the windows at the skyline. I brought Sophie’s bouncer chair and placed it on the island across from me so we could watch her while we ate. Kate served our plates, doling out ribs, rice and salad, placing my plate in front of me. It looked delicious and I was hungry.
When Kate sat next to me, she sighed heavily before she took her knife and fork in hand.
I turned, surprised that she sounded so down despite the smile on her face.
“Kate, tell me the truth. Are you okay?” I asked, waiting for her response. "You look pale and you sound upset."
“I’m fine,” she said and smiled at me once more, but the smile never reached her eyes. “The police called after you left and wanted to come by and speak to me.”
“What?” I said, anger filling me. “Why didn’t you call me right away?”
