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“East wing, room 402. Security will ask for a password.”
“Why?”
“If the tabloids would do to you what they did last weekend for being seen with him, imagine what they’d do for a picture of him in his current condition.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“It is, but it’s a fact of life for the rich and famous.”
“I guess it is. So what’s the password?”
“Emilia.”
My heart falls. A woman’s name. Of course, it would be.
“Does he know to expect me?”
“He understands protocol.”
That doesn’t sound promising.
“Got it. Thanks, Doc. I’ll keep you posted.”
I head to Layton’s room, where a guard is outside the magnetically locked door.
“No entry today.”
“I’m assuming no entry any day, even with my team credentials?” I flash my staff ID with my name and photo. “I’m on Dr. Silverberg’s team. Olivia Morgan, team physical therapist. Mr. Ranger requires a plan as per his contract.”
“Sure. And what makes you think that matters?”
“Emilia. Now please let me in.”
“You don’t look like a doctor.”
“Right, well that’s neither here nor there. Please don’t make Mr. Ranger have to deal with this when he’s struggling as he is.”
The guard thinks for a moment. “Leave your purse and phone.”
“No.”
“It’s that or no entry.”
We stare at each other for way too much time before I growl. I make a show of removing my credit cards and cash and locking my cell phone.
“Lady, I’m being paid enough that I don’t need your cash.”
“Good for you,” I say, doing my best to stand erect like Tasha.
He pushes a button under the desk and looks at the door.
I sail through them and take a few steadying breaths. I can only assume where his head is.
I knock quietly, all my bravado gone after my conversations today, but don’t let myself in.
An older man pulls open the door. He’s not tall like Layton. and his skin pales in comparison. He has green eyes with dark shadows below them.
“Yes?”
