“Don’t,” I say.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t look at her like that.”
He holds my stare. “Like what?”
“Like you’re considering asking her out once she’s recovered from her surgery. You’ve got a brother nearly on the warpath—no time for things like that.”
“Ivan isn’t here.”
“I know where Ivan is. Blood is blood. If push comes, do you push back?”
“Yes.”
Clean answer. I file it away.
Until the surgery is paid for, Cassandra’s going to be a worried mess. I can’t have that.
“Give me the billing information.”
He hands it to me, and I step into the hall to call Mina. She answers on the second ring.
“Why are we waking accounting?” she asks after being filled in.
“Direct payment to Mount Sinai’s cardiothoracic unit. Clara Hewitt is the patient. Route it through the Foundation and pay the outstanding balance in full.”
“We’re not a charity.”
“We can be, if I will it.”
“For whom?” She sighs. She already knows. “Does this come out of the girl’s contract?”
“No. Her contract stands.”
Silence. The sound of paper shuffling on her end. “So this is extra.Moreextra. Why her? Why this one?”
“Call it Christmas cheer,” I reply.
She snorts. “You don’t do cheer, not Christmas or otherwise.”
“What can I say? I’m an unpredictable man.”
“Soft spots invite knives.” Her signature phrase.
“I’m not soft, I’m precise.”
“Let me look it up.” A few moments go by. “Okay, found her. Clara Hewitt. Consider it done.”
“Good.”
“For what it’s worth,” she adds, “this is a good thing. You could be saving that woman’s life.”
Charity’s never been my thing, but right now, doing this for Cassandra, for Clara, is important to me.
“I’ll send you proof of payment,” Mina says.
“And keep an eye on her file. Any surprise bills pop up, handle those too.”
