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“I bet he tells you I have a concussion,” I muse sarcastically, and Perry coughs out a laugh. Cain grates his teeth together, and I relax back on the sofa. I’ll wait for the doctor, then I’m going home. Maybe if I call The Grande on the way, I can explain and reschedule. I chew my thumb, worrying about my future again. Strong fingers pull my hand away from my mouth. “Don’t,” he chastises.
Rolling my eyes, I drop my hand and scoff. Bossy twat.
A light tap at the doors allows me a moment of mental clarity as Cain stalks to open it and welcomes the doctor in, a very hot doctor.
“Hello,” I say brightly and lift my hair. “I had an accident yesterday, which will explain my little wobble,” I inform him, throwing Cain a narrowed scowl. His jaw locks as he shoves his hands forcefully into his trouser pockets, pulling them taut.
“I’d still like to check you over.” The doctor smiles. He’s tanned and tall. Gorgeous.
I scowl into my lap and check my phone. I still have twenty minutes. Maybe I can get the tube? “I have an intervi—”
“Fuck the interview!” Cain roars. I jump, and so does the doctor, for that matter.
“Dr?” I smile at him, and he gives me a patient smile back.
“DeLuca.” He introduces himself.
“Got any sedatives for Mr grumpy over here.” I thumb-point towards Cain, who shoots a look of horror at me. He growls, and I worry my lip. Shit. I seriously need to learn the art of shutting up!
Perry and the doctor laugh loudly. DeLuca turns to my boss. “She seems okay to me, Cain.” So, they’re familiar then?
“Check her,” he snaps and storms out, making the door crash loudly.
“Phew!” I chuckle. Dr DeLuca smirks at me with deep brown eyes, and I stare back. Wait, I recognise him. I blink and recall it was the man in the lobby who smiled at me early. Recognition flares in my eyes and his teeth show when he gives me a full smile.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” DeLuca asks, picking a few instruments out of his bag, and he clears his throat when I lean to see what else he has hidden in there.
His head lifts, and our faces almost brush. “Oh,” I chuckle. “Perry knocked me over with the door. I threw up on Cain's shoes, and I have a concussion,” I tell him stoically. “So, you see, a minor blip.” I plant my hands on my knees and then decide to scoop my fringe up and show him.
“Wow.” He pulls back when he sees the bump. “Any bruising?”
“Yes,” I twist for my phone, “one second.” I unlock it and bring up the photo. “Here.” Perry stalks forward and stares apologetically at me.
“You’ve done well to cover that up,” the doctor appraises and shines a light in my eyes. “Pain?”
“Mild headache. My face is sore. Achy,” I admit.
“What was happening when you fainted?”
“I don’t know. I had fainted,” I point out slowly, trying not to smirk. DeLuca throws his head back, laughing robustly. “I’m joking, sorry. We had words, and then I left. Cain.” I flick my eyes up as the door opens, and the man himself steps inside with his phone pressed to his ear. “Mr Carson-Ivory,” I correct, “took hold of my wrist loosely, and I spun round. Probably too fast, and then—” I use my hands to imitate my face planting.
Gentle fingers brush my hair aside. “How are you feeling now?” DeLuca leans in, and I side-eye him when he feels around the base of my neck, pressing softly to assess my pain reflex.
“Well, that feels nice,” I confess, and he shakes his head, hiding a laugh.
“Are you always such a flirt?” Cain growls.
“I beg your pardon?” I spit. I blink at the doctor, embarrassed, but not because I was flirting. I wasn't. I was just being polite. Maybe I do feel a little woozy, and everything I think in my head is coming out of my mouth, I concede reluctantly, but I wasn’t flirting.
Cain bares his teeth, and I pull out of the doctor’s touch. “Thanks, but I’m fine,” I tell him and use the back of the sofa to stand.
“You really should be at home resting, Miss Lindel,” DeLuca berates, replacing his things in his bag. “What pain relief are you taking?” he asks, but I move around him and collect my bag up from the sideboard. “Do you have transport to get home?”
I nod and pull up The Grande's number, calling them. I ignore the men hovering around me and wait for it to connect. “Oh, hello. I’m supposed to be having an interview. However, I’ve had a little accident,” I explain apologetically. “I know it’s rude of me to ask, but can we reschedule? I can assure you I’m usually always punctual,” I plead softly.
My mobile phone is ripped from my hand. “She has a job. Cancel the interview,” he snaps and disconnects the call.
“What on earth!” I cry, looking to the other two men for backup. “You can’t do that!” I snap at Cain, then wobble to the side. Dr DeLuca rushes at me, but Cain scoops me up.
