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Chapter Three

Damon

I wasn’t sure what brought me back, other than the inability to walk away. I had reached the lobby before realizing I wasn’t leaving. No punky little doctor was going to throw me out. If Phoebe wanted me to leave her alone, I would, but I’d be sitting in the waiting room.

I knew that wasn’t a normal reaction. She’d seemed hesitant around me, and I’d accused her of fraud. It hadn’t been my finest moment, and I was ashamed of it. I couldn’t deny I was still wary though. A lot of people had tried to get money from me over the years either via sympathy or more ambiguous means. I shouldn’t assume everyone was after my money though.

Maybe I went back to apologize. Maybe, though I’d be the first to admit that wasn’t my strong suit. I was almost to her room when that young doctor came bursting out, clearly annoyed. He glared at me for a long moment, shook his head, and said, “Maybe you’ll have more luck.”

I frowned, wanting to ask what he meant, but he was already gone. Perplexed, I went back into her room. I expected to find her in the bed, so I froze in shock when I saw her back to me. Almost every lovely inch of the backside of her body was exposed to me, aside from a modest pair of briefs. My mouth went dry, and my cock hardened at the sight.

The discoloration down her spine brought everything back into focus, and I snapped at her. She whirled, revealing her breasts. I swallowed a sudden lump in my throat and stared like a moron for half a second. Only when she crossed her arms over her chest did I recover a smidgeon of control.

Blinking, I strode closer, asking again, “What are you doing?”

She glared at me. “None of your business.”

I frowned. “You look like you’re getting dressed, which makes no sense for a patient admitted to the hospital.”

“I’m leaving.”

“You are not.” I reached for her arm, and she winced and pulled away. I didn’t know if I’d touched a tender spot, or she just hated my touch. The second thought made me ill, and I shied away from considering it. “You need to stay a couple of days.”

“I need to get out of here. I have things to do, and I’m not going to waste money staying in the hospital.”

My lips tightened. “You’d risk your health over a few thousand dollars?”

Her eyes narrowed into thin slits. “To us regular people, that’s a lot of money, Mr. Santos.”

I reached for her again, and she shrugged me off vigorously enough to dislodge one of her arms. I caught a glimpse of side-boob before quickly averting my gaze. “Leaving is foolish.”

She shrugged. “I’m still going.” Phoebe turned from me then, reaching into the cubby and slipping on a tank top with her back turned to me. She shimmied into yoga pants a moment later, and they were ripped down one leg, revealing wicked road rash on the flesh underneath.

I adopted my CEO voice, the one my employees wouldn’t dare ignore. “Get back in that bed this instant.”

She froze for a second before resuming dressing. She slipped her feet into shoes, sans socks, which she shoved into the pocket of her blood-stained hoodie after slipping it on. I stared at her in shock that she was ignoring my command.

“Did you hear me?”

She shrugged and glared at me over her shoulder. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean I have to listen to you.” She moved with more pep than I’d expected when she stepped back, holding her purse, and closed the cubby. Her hospital gown laid on the floor, and she winced when she bent down to pick it up.

“Are you always so stubborn?”

She ignored that and slipped past me. I wanted to reach out, lift her, and carry her to the bed, but I restrained myself. “Please, Phoebe, think this through.”

“I am. I’m fine.”

I rolled my eyes at the defiance in her gaze that matched her tone. “You can’t be sure of that.”

“I’m sure I can’t waste time or money staying in the hospital.” She walked toward the door.

I didn’t know who was more startled when that doctor appeared in the doorway. Both of them let out cries of surprise, and they took a step back.

He recovered first. “You really can’t leave, Phoebe.” He held up what looked like a photograph.

She shook her head. “Gotta.”

He frowned at her severely. “No.” Lifting the picture, he tapped a section on the brain scan. “You have bruising on the brain. You need to rest to make sure it doesn’t get worse.”

“I can rest at home.”

I gnashed my teeth together as I strode forward. “What will you do if you don’t wake up?”

She looked impassive. “I guess I’ll die.”

I flinched and traded glances with the young doctor. For the first time, I wondered if her appearing in front of my car had been motivated by depression rather than a desire for money or an accident. “She’ll come home with me.”

“I will not.”

“I guess that would be okay.” The doctor seemed sullen for a moment but nodded. “She needs someone to watch over her for twenty-four hours, at minimum, if she’s going to insist on going home.”

“I can handle that.”

“You aren’t handling anything.”

We both ignored her, continuing to discuss her medical condition, and what I should watch for. It wasn’t until she stomped her foot and let out a sound of exasperation that I looked at her again. I tried to find a kind, yet insistent, tone. “This is the only way he’s going to let you out of here. If you try to leave alone, I’ll get my incredibly expensive firm of attorneys and make them earn their retainer by taking it to court. We’ll let a judge decide if you’re competent enough to leave.”

“And by then, enough time will have passed that you’ll be fine to leave alone.” The doctor sounded satisfied. “So, you can either stay here for another twenty-four hours, or you can leave with Mr. Santos.”

I fully expected her to choose the hospital, especially after she gave me a dirty look. If it could have caused pain, I’d be writhing.

“Fine. Santos is better than the hospital. At least he’s free—unless you expect me to pay you, Mr. Santos?” Her voice was saccharine.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I nodded to the doctor, revising my opinion of him. He’d seemed frivolous and on a power trip, but he clearly had his patients’ best interests at heart. “Is there paperwork?”

“Yes, because she’s still leaving against medical advice.” He shook his head, clearly displeased with that, but he didn’t seem so riled now. He left us a moment later.

She didn’t look at me. That bothered me for some reason I couldn’t explain. “Phoebe?”

She still didn’t turn her head. “What?”

“I’m trying to help.”

She finally looked at me, but it wasn’t with gratitude. “I don’t want your help. Help usually comes with strings, so no thanks.” With that, she walked out of the room and went down the hall.

I followed, watching from a distance as she endured a berating from Karen before signing the paperwork. When it was obvious she was ready, I followed then.

As I passed Karen, she smiled at me. “You’re such a sweetheart, Mr. Santos.” She fluttered her eyes at me. If I expended the slightest effort, I could have her bent over in the cleaning closet within five minutes.

The idea left me numb. I managed a polite smile and trailed behind my reluctant houseguest. My pulse thumped, and I realized I was looking forward to more sparring with her. She made things new and interesting.