Page 101 of The Don’s Virgin Obsession

Another night, I heard her laugh from the kitchen, clear as day.

I got up fast, looking for her before realizing I was talking to shadows and dark corners.

“Sade?”

I stood in the middle of the suite, rubbing my face hard.

I sat back down on the couch and stared toward the hallway.

“Why you keep looking at me like that?”

Nobody was there.

“You think I’m weak or something?”

I closed my eyes after that.

My mind was shot.

Another night, I could’ve sworn she was sitting on the edge of the bed watching me smoke.

“You should’ve stayed my employee.”

That stayed with me because everything got worse once feelings got involved.

By day five, my family doctor showed up with Vanessa.

I barely opened the door, but my sis barged in.

“You look terrible,” Vanessa said immediately.

“Thank you.” I actually gave her a smirk. My sister was stronger than I was. My father's death hadn’t hit her yet, like it was doing to me.

The doctor sat across from me. “You need to stop smoking marijuana completely.”

I laughed dryly. “That’s not happening.”

He ignored me and kept talking. “You have Cannabinoid Hyperemesis Syndrome, which causes repeated vomiting episodes. Your body basically rejects the THC after long-term heavy use.”

I leaned back on the couch, half listening.

“We discussed this before, Nr. St. Clair.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re dehydrated. Malnourished. Your anxiety levels are high. Your body is under stress. You are also showing signs of high functional depression and are finally crashing. You need to let me come back and run an IV on you, and you need anti-depressants when you are feeling better.”

Stress.

That word sounded stupid at that point.

I couldn’t believe that I was sitting in a luxury penthouse getting lectured about weed.

The doctor kept talking while Vanessa sat next to me, looking worried.

“You need rest. Fluids. No smoking.”

“I hear you.”