Page 347 of The Doctors Will See You Now

I wanted to engage. I wanted to respond. I wanted to tell every single one of these reporters to fuck off. But I knew enough about the media to understand that, although it was tempting as hell, this was not the time or place to issue a statement unless I wanted my words misconstrued and taken out of context.

The only right way to handle this situation was to keep my mouth shut, my head down, and get the fuck out of there.

But that still didn’t stop them from trying to bait me with questions that would strike a nerve.

“Are the accusations true?”

“Is Dr. Shepard a rapist?”

“Did he ever do anything sexually inappropriate with you?”

“Are you going to testify that he raped you?”

Holy fucking shit. Rape? Was this a goddamn joke?

Bile rose in my stomach, and I did my best to navigate through the mess of photographers and news reporters until I was able to hail a cab and slide inside to the safety of the back seat.

“Where to?” the cabbie asked once I shut the door, and I stared at him in the rearview mirror.

“Just… Just get me the hell out of here, please. Drive around until I can think straight.”

He nodded, and I sagged into the leather seat.

I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I had to come up with some kind of plan. It was times like these that I wished I had friends in high places.

You do…well, sorta… You have an ex in a high place…

Brent.

Fuck, was I really that desperate to go to him for help?

I scrubbed a hand down my face and hated that my gut response was, Yes, I am that desperate, but found myself directing the cabbie toward Brent’s office anyway. “City Hall, please,” I instructed.

“You got it.”

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.”