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His quoting the Joker is fitting. He’s just as batshit crazy. I plant my feet on the ground, trying the car’s door but it’s already locked. “I want to go home.”
Camden wraps his arm around my waist and starts to tug me toward the house. “Come on, princess. The doctor’s already here.”
“I don’t need a doctor,” I fume, turning back toward the car.
Psychotic, bossy, infuriating man.
I could do with antiseptic, but people don’t get serious issues from a handful of blisters.
“What I need,” I grit between my teeth, “is to be left alone.”
Camden stops and sighs. “Have it your way.”
He finally heard me, and he seems resigned.
I let out a breath in relief, but instead of unlocking the door and heading back to LA, as his words imply he might, he tightens his hold over my waist and bends to wrap his arms under my knees, lifting me like I weigh nothing and hauling me toward the house.
“What the hell! Camden…”
“We can handle things one of two ways: you can play along or you can fight me. Both choices will lead to the same outcome, though I must say, your way is a lot morefun.”
I try to get out of his grip, hands and legs flying, kicking out. All in vain. His hold is firm. “Fine! I’ll walk.”
“Too late for that.” He pauses at the door, and I see my chance to get away, but he merely shifts me over his shoulder before inputting a code and unlocking it.
Inside, the house is nothing like his evil black manor. It’s incredibly plain—beige walls, cream furniture, gold accents. It feels like a hotel room, not a frat house—or the bachelor pad I would have expected, given that the place belongs to three guys.
He carries me to a criminally boring lounge and throws me on a sofa. I fall into the sea of beige face-first. Its only redeeming quality is the fact that it’s comfortable.
“Annette, meet Morgan. Morgan, Doctor Hargrove, my aunt.”
I straighten up and glare at him, before turning my attention to the thirty-something beauty observing us both.
She looks nothing like him, except for the golden-amber eyes. Annette Hargrove is a blonde with a tight ponytail, petite and pretty in a warm, open way.
“Morgan, it’s lovely meeting you. Our boy was very concerned about those feet of yours.”
I send him a pointed glare, before trying for a smile for the doctor’s sake. “They’re fine.”
“I’m sure,” she says, humoring me. “But since I’m here, let us take a look, yes?”
I let the doctor examine me, and apply a cooling gel that provides instant relief. She gives me the rest of the tub, prescribes a course of meds to prevent infection, and tell me to stay off my feet for a week.
“I can’t do that. I have work Thursday.”
“By that, she means she wants to kill herself on her feet for a hundred bucks a day.”
“Sixty-five bucks plus tips, actually,” I correct, just to annoy him.
Annette smiles and pats my shin. “Taking your job seriously is commendable, Morgan, but your health is also important, too. Sometimes, taking a break is the best thing you can do to be able to leap back into it.”
I look down at my bare, bandaged feet and bob my head. “Okay, I’ll call Faith. Just a few days will do, right?”
I’ll have to avoid the rollerblades too.
“A week off should do the trick. You’ll need to be careful and wear better shoes in the future to avoid a repeat. Now, how would you feel about a general health review? I can run blood tests.”
I frown. “Why? I’m fine.”
