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MINKA
“The incoming mayor has asked to meet with you at three.” Seraphina Lewis, my media liaison and the closest thing I have to an assistant, stands on the other side of my desk in a sharp cut skirt suit and four-inch heels.
She’s the assistant to the George Stanley building. She’s the assistant to the chief medical examiner. But she’s notmyassistant.
I neither want nor need one of those.
She’s a few years older than me—though not by a lot—and to be completely honest, she’s a little terrifying, when so few people intimidate me. Her nails are perfect, her hair looks salon-blown-out every single day, her brows are never out of place, and her waist is the perfect ratio to the rest of her body. She has the ultimate shape… second only, in my opinion, to that of the beautiful news reporter whose face I see every single day on my television.
Seraphina may be the assistant I don’t want, but she’s the perfect buffer between me and the likes of Miranda London and her constant requests for a meeting.
Miranda knows the mayor is soon to be sworn in, and my refusal to take her calls seems to be setting her ego on fire.
“Why’s he coming here?” I focus on my computer screen and study my emails like they have my complete attention. “Since when does a mayor come to meet the little people?”
“Sincethismayor, I guess.” Seraphina glances through my glass wall, toward Autopsy Room One.
It was only a few weeks ago a bullet pierced the wall and shattered the glass. When shards rained down and nicked my skin until my blood made a mess of the floor. It was only weeks ago my scalpel slid through the late mayor’s spinal cord and ended his life. And just hours after that, poor Seraphina had to stand up and make a statement on behalf of the boss she’d yet to meet.
Because I sure as hell wasn’t stepping in front of the cameras.
“He’ll come in through the basement parking garage and exit through that,” Seraphina points with her pen, “elevator. He’ll likely have staff with him. Half a dozen, at least.”
“Who is he?” I bring my gaze across to the woman with mahogany brown locks and willow green eyes. “Does his reputation precede him?”
She purses her perfectly glossed lips. “Due to the, uh, issues with the last administration, it would appear the city has brought in someone from outside Copeland. I’ve thought on this since I heard…” Shedding a little of her professionalism and snagging my visitor chair, she drops down and rests a stack of paperwork on her knees. “Not knowing anything about him makes me a little anxious. Maybe he’ll be perfect for the job, or maybe he’ll be worse than Mayor Tribble. He was a hotshot district attorney before this move, and his professional reputation seems to be clean, but we have no way of knowing how this will go until he’s already got all the power. And by then, we’re stuck with the guy for four years.”
“Unless my scalpel hand starts twitching.”
Stunned, Seraphina’s scandalized eyes widen.
“I was kidding.” Sitting back, I laugh under my breath. “The fact is, whatever is coming for us is already in motion. If he sucks, our anxiety won’t change it. So let it go, and let’s hope for the best.”
“Yes, Doctor.” Glancing down at the stack of forms in her lap as though to check her list, her eyes come back to mine. “Miranda London has left seven messages requesting a meeting.”
I want to simultaneously scream and preen. Because she’s annoying as hell, but she comes with the added glamour of being Copeland City’s most recognizable face. “Seven messagestotal?”
“Since you left for lunch with Doctor Emeri,” Seraphina amends. “Ms. London is known to be quite the tyrant in getting what she wants. She won’t stop until you acknowledge her, and if my dealings with her in the past are an indication, she’s going to push harder now.”
“As punishment for ignoring her?”
“Yes. I believe her ego will demand it.”
“All the more reason not to take her calls,” I decide. “The moment I give her what she wants, she’ll spin my words and splash them all over live television. That’s how she’ll punish me.”
“So maybe you should consider meeting someone else. Another channel. Another reporter. By doing so, you’ll get a fairer opportunity to speak without your words being twisted. You’ll also send ratings to the other station and bring London down a peg or two. She’s only number one because the people put her there. The people can only put her there if she has all the content.”
“So if I give my words to someone else, maybe the people will follow?” Sitting forward, I tap my computer mouse again when my screen goes dark. “Set something up for me to consider. I’m not committing to anything, written or verbal. But if you put in the legwork now, maybe we’ll have someone on the hook for later if we need it.”
“Yes, Doctor.” Pushing up to stand, Seraphina collects her things and tucks her files under her arm. “I’ll be back the moment I get word the incoming mayor has arrived.”
“Good. And before you go…” I bring my gaze once more to my sharply dressed somewhat-assistant as she spins back.
“Yes?”
“What’d she do to you?”
“Hmm?” Those sculpted brows come up in confusion. “I don’t follow.”
