When I reached Rachel’s desk, I folded the sketch and put it into my pocket. Rachel grinned at me, clicking her pen. “Morning, Isabella.”
I smiled and leaned against the table. “How’s Mr. Beck doing?”
She wrote something on a clipboard and handed it to me. “Wheelchair bound.” She grimaced and shook her head. “He’s been asking about you all morning. Dr. Jakkobs told me to tell you to go see him when you—” She shifted her gaze behind me, bowing her head. “Good morning, Alpha.”
Moon Goddess.
I froze. It was only nine in the morning. I couldn’t handle his shit right now, especially after he saw me in this white doctor’s jacket. Wasn’t he supposed to be running practice for the warriors?
Instead of turning around to greet myalpha, I stood completely still. Hoping he would just disappear. Hoping that he wouldn’t even say a word to me.
Rachel noticed my uneasiness, gazing back at Roman. “I’ll be checking on a few other patients.” She stood from her seat and disappeared through the door.
What a great fucking friend.
Roman cleared his throat, but I didn’t turn around. His minty scent was tempting, but I wouldn’t fall for that trick of his again.
I gazed down at the clipboard, flicking through the pages. “Sorry, I have work to do.”
Before I walked out the door, he grabbed my wrist—a rush of tingles shooting up my arm—and growled. “We need to talk.”
“And what do we need to talk about, Roman?” I asked, turning around and clutching the clipboard to my chest.
“The little stunt you pulled last night.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I bat my lashes at him. “Anyway…” I gazed down at my wrist, looking at my pretend watch. “Looks like I have a patient to get to.” I pushed through the double doors and walked down the hallway.
He followed me. “Stop, Isabella.”
Room 405. Room 406. Room 407.
“Stop.”
Patients and doctors gazed into the hallway as I rushed aimlessly down it. Room 408. Room 409. Moon Goddess, the hallway stopped in a few rooms. Where the hell was Room 423?
“Isabella, don’t make me say it again.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. I stopped at the end of the hallway, gazing at the last door. Room 421, Mom’s office. The door was opened slightly, her lamp emitting a pale-yellow light over her abandoned desk.
Roman grasped my wrist. “I said to stop.”
I turned on my heel and pressed a finger into his chest. “You should know by now that I don’t listen to you.”
Nurses and patients gazed over, gasping. Old Man Beck laughed in one of the other rooms, taunting me.
Roman growled, and everyone turned back to their work. He pushed me into Mom’s empty office and slammed the door. As soon as the door clicked closed, he had me pressed against the door. “I can make you listen to me. Remember that, Isabella.”
What was the worst he could do that I wouldn’t enjoy? Lock me in a silver cage? Tell everyone at the hospital that I wasn’t smart enough to work as a doctor either? Force me to submit to him? None of those punishments was worse than the one he had already given me.
I growled and kicked him in the shin, turning around to face him. “Don’t talk to me like that.” I flared my nostrils at his stupid, perfect face. The feelings I had before he hurt me were all still there. The excitement. The enjoyment. The passion.
“You know, because of the stuntyoupulled, someone drew a picture of me.” After pulling the drawing from my pocket, I thrust it into his face. “They’re mocking me, Roman. They’re mocking me for not becoming a warrior and it’s your fault.”
He gazed down at the picture, then at me, then back. His face shifting through a variety of emotions. “You don’t like the picture?”
“That’s not the point.” I stepped closer to him. Of course, I liked the damn picture. “The point is that people are mocking me because of what you did.”
He smoothed out the crinkles with his fingers, deposited the drawing into his jean pocket, and shook his head. “I assign you here because you’re smart, Isabella. You should be thankful that you’re here and not somewhere else. You should be thankful that you get to help people, not hurt them. The life you think you want is just a life of hurt.”
