CJ snickers. “I’ll let my wife know.”
“You do that.”
“Seriously, bro, thanks for doing this.”
“No problem. I’ll take my fees out of your next check. Wait, one more thing. Before you start banging your wife, call Lilac and let her know I’m coming. Make sure she keeps the police at bay until I get there. I’ll call you when I hear more. Later.”
After exactly thirty-three minutes, I step away from CJ’s limo, a bit stunned to be alive. “Thanks for not killing us, Jack.”
“Anytime. I wasn’t doing anything… except sleeping.” He grins because I hissed at the last curve when I thought we were going to hit a dump truck.
“The early hour wasn’t my idea, blame your boss.”
“Wouldn’t do any good. Melanie has him wrapped around her finger.” He holds up his pinky and shakes his head but we both know he’s joking. My brother’s wife has a heart of gold and we’d both do anything for her.
While he parks the limo, I stop and stare at the steps leading up to the entrance of Columbia Presbyterian. Ever since my dad broke my arm as a kid, I fucking hate hospitals and it usually takes an act of God to get me here.
A bit of nausea hits my stomach as I make my way through the large crowd gathered in the waiting area. Photographers need to make a living but this circus of paparazzi seems over the top, even for Sienna Olafson.
I ask the location of my new client at the front desk where a weary, gray-haired woman gives me a tight smile. “I’m sorry sir, I can’t give you any information.”
She flicks her eyes in the direction of two police officers standing by a vending machine.
“I’m her lawyer. Here’s my card.” My wallet isn’t even closed before Lilac steps from behind a set of double glass doors and says, “I got this, Doreen.”
The pretty doctor shakes my hand, “Long time, no see. Thanks for coming.”
“No problem. How’s Slate?”
“Oh, he’s having a grand old time being a bodyguard, running after Grayson in Rome, eating fine foods, while I’m stuck here in New York.”
She leads me past a row of curtains and into one of the small emergency room bays, “Sienna? Someone to see you.”
A couple years ago, Ms. Olafson’s face was plastered on the TV, the internet, and even lit up Times Square. Back then, she was a pretty little waif but too pale and wan for my liking.
Whoa. This can’t be her. The woman who captured all of America’s pity was… well, to be frank, mousy. This stunning beauty has silky blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, and cherry-red lips. With a heart-shaped chin and pretty pert nose, she’s fucking gorgeous.
She shoots me a wide-open smile, like we’ve known each other for years. “Well, hello, sexy! My God, I love a man in a suit.”
I give a questioning look to Lilac but she’s frowning at a clipboard at the foot of the bed. “We’re still waiting for Sienna’s toxicology report. Can you handle her for a moment? I need to see to my other patients.”
I give a nod, brush off a folding chair next to the bed, and sit so as to be eye-to-eye with my new client. “You’re Sienna Olafson, right?”
“Oh my God, no. Sienna Giles, G I L E S, Giles.” She voices the letters as if in a grade school spelling bee and writes on a virtual blackboard in front of her face.
Then, she leans over the side of the bed and says at full volume. “Do you want to sleep with me because I do you.”
My cock wakes up at the offer even though it should know better. “Ms. Giles? I’m Andrew Quinn. I’m-”
“You are so beautiful, like a Greek god or something.” Her hand goes to my cheek. “Seriously. You want to fuck?”
She sits up, her nostrils flare and her eyes dig a deep hole into mine. Unfortunately, the centers are dilated and not in a good way.
Down boy, I say to the interest tenting in my lap. Client, C L I E N T, Client.
Needing to keep this professional, I pat her hand and put it back in her lap. “Maybe later. Right now. I need you to focus. Can you do that for me?”
Her mouth goes into a little pout. “Fine. But do you know how long it has been since I’ve had sex?”
