Page 25 of Yours to Keep

Today, all I saw was the dark suit and the controlled expression. It was one of those days when even I could admit that I looked exactly like the man they’d already decided I was—a heartless, soulless tyrant who didn’t give a shit about anything other than his bank account.

A bed rolled past me, pushed by an orderly who nodded stiffly without meeting my eyes. A doctor emerged from a patient’s room, paused, then deliberately stepped aside to let me pass as if I was something unpleasant he didn’t want to brush against.

I ignored it, but the walk still wasn’t helping as much as I’d hoped. Tension followed me like the most obsessed kind of stalker, coiled tight in my chest and humming under my skin. Every few steps, I half expected another phone to start ringing.

When I turned a corner and nearly collided with a volunteer pushing a cart of blankets, my irritation flared hot and sharp. She jumped, murmuring an apology even as she raced away. She didn’t even wait for a response, and I actually would’ve told her that it was okay. Because honestly, I hadn’t been looking where I was going, and again, I wasn’t actually an arrogant prick.

Everywhere I went, however, I became more and more convinced that this place was chaos. Sentimentality masquerading as efficiency. Everyone was so busy feeling things that they forgot how a business was actually run—and that this was a motherfucking business at its core.

If they thought I didn’t notice the looks, the whispers, and the quiet defiance, they were dead wrong. But I just straightened my shoulders and kept walking, letting the sounds of the hospital wash over me.

I’d weathered worse than this. Louder critics. Higher stakes.

Someone had done this on purpose. That much was obvious. Whoever it was, they thought they could wear me down, but they were going to be sorely disappointed.

As soon as I made it to a wing containing several of the general wards, I didn’t even make it ten more steps before I saw it—another bulletin board with another piece of paper neatly taped to it.

This one only had words on it, and read: Problems with paper gowns? Call Sully.

Underneath it was my office number. Motherfucker.

My vision went red and I tore the damn flyer down so hard, the tape shrieked, the paper itself ripping unevenly in my hands. I crumpled it, then flattened it again like I might be able to erase the last twenty-four hours through sheer force of will.

“Is this a hospital or a middle school?” I snapped to no one in particular.

A few people nearby froze, a nurse standing at the medication cart suddenly becoming deeply invested in the labels on her vials while an orderly took a step back like proximity to me might be contagious.

Yeah, you’d better fucking run. All of you. This has gone far enough.

By the time I’d stuffed the flyer into my pocket and started walking again, my phone was already in my hand. My strides were long, my feet smacking against the horrendous fucking floors in sharp snaps.

“Get me security,” I said the second he answered. “I want the extra cameras installed. All the blind spots need to be covered, the bulletin boards, hall intersections, and anywhere else where someone can pull this kind of nonsense.”

There was a pause. “That’s a significant addition to the current system.”

“I’m aware. Do it anyway.”

I didn’t explain that I’d cover the costs myself if I had to or that this wasn’t about the money anymore. God and the law had intended for personal and company finances to stay separate. That had always been my rule. I worked in clean lines with no mess, but I didn’t give a shit right now.

“Right away, sir,” Todd said carefully. “I’ll authorize it.”

Nodding and then hanging up without saying goodbye, I shoved the phone back into my pocket and kept moving. Heat buzzed under my skin. With every step I took, I could feel eyes on me, the air heavy with judgment and resentment.

I saw every last one of the glances that lingered just a beat too long before they looked away, and I didn’t miss any of the eye rolls or the hardening of their expressions either. This time, I didn’t even bother lying to myself.

This did affect me, but not in the way they’d probably intended. All I could see now when I looked around was a long list of suspects. Rationally, I knew that it could’ve been any one of the nurses, orderlies, doctors, or even the admin staff.

Anyone with too much time, a grudge, and access to a printer, but my mind didn’t cycle through any of those other possibilities. Over and over again, it landed on just one name.

Bree Bennett.

The birthday defending, pastry-yielding demon who’d made me the enemy on day one. From the word go, that woman had looked at me like I was an inconvenience instead of the authority. Those blazing blue eyes flashed with challenge every time she opened her mouth.

Is the Cannoli Thrower also the Flyer Phantom?

I reached the stairwell and paused with my hand on the rail to take in a deep breath. In through my nose. Out through my mouth.

Years ago, I’d learned to do this when tempers flared and rooms full of men waited to see who would blink first. But today, it didn’t work, so I pushed through the doors and climbed down one flight, then another, letting the physical exertion burn off some of the anger.