Page 230 of The Doctors Will See You Now

Fucking hell.

Thirty minutes later, I stood outside of Brent’s office, at the reception area, where Pam Lockhead—his assistant and the woman who apparently wouldn’t give me any other reaction but disdain—stared down at me with narrowed eyes.

I’d already had this argument for five minutes with the receptionist herself, but when I wouldn’t give up, she’d made a call to Pam.

“Can I help you?”

“I would like to see the mayor.”

She scoffed. “The mayor is a busy man. You have to actually schedule a meeting with him in advance.”

Apparently, her assignment was to handle me.

“Pam, right?” I asked, and she nodded.

“I used to be a good friend of his, and I just need to speak with him briefly. It’s a bit of an emergency.”

With her face pinched together like she’d eaten a lemon and her shoulders stiff and rigid, the woman all but bristled in irritation at my words. “Oh, I know you used to be friends, Harlow,” she retorted. “More than friends, actually.”

I furrowed my brow at her words. I honestly had no idea why that was even relevant to the situation. “All right, well…” I started and tried to find a new game plan that didn’t require access through this awful woman. “Could you at least let him know that I’m here and I would like to speak with him?”

“I could, but I’m not.”

“Uh…”

“Have a nice day,” she said and gestured for me to leave through the reception area exit doors, but I shook my head. I hadn’t come this far, given in so easily to this impulse, to give up now.

“Yeah. No. This isn’t going to work,” I denied, and she rolled her eyes.

“I think it’s time for you to leave. Or, if you’d like, I can have security escort you out.”

Jesus. This fucking woman. She was a witch, who I was pretty sure had breast implants, but that was neither here nor there. I didn’t have time to waste arguing with her. I needed to find a way into Brent’s office, and I needed to do it now.

Would it be considered assault if I tackled her to the ground before running inside of Brent’s office?

Did it really matter at this point?

I mean, my boyfriend had basically been accused of rape in a column that had my name on it. What else did I have to lose?

Nothing.

I stared at her and she stared back at me, and just before I started to rush toward her, Brent’s voice was behind me. “Harlow?”

Thank fucking God.

I honestly never thought I’d be happy for his presence, but I’d also never thought someone would write a fake, blasphemous, fucking terrible column about my boyfriend under my goddamn name and it would get posted.

I turned around and met his eyes. “I need your help,” I blurted out.

“I was just getting ready to escort Miss Paige out, Mr. Mayor,” Pam chimed in. “I told her that your schedule is too full today for an appointment, but that I would schedule her in for sometime next week.”

God, she was a piece of work. And a fucking liar.

“I need your help now,” I said, and he nodded.

“Okay.” He looked at Pam. “Reschedule my next meeting.”

“But…but…” she stuttered over her words.