“Hm.” Alec’s eyes gleamed with something ugly.“She’d grow to enjoy our ways.”
Nick exhaled slowly.“So how are we doing this, then?”
He sounded resigned, but the faint pull at his mouth told me he was already in.
Satisfaction curled low in my gut. Only time would tell if she was suitable. In the meantime, we could have some fun.
“Bring her in,” I said.“Leave the rest to me. Send me everything you’ve found on her.”
No matter what they said, the excitement was there—thick in the air between us. Ella was an untested concept for the moment. Permanency was flawed, but it could work.
If we broke her down first.
Then rebuilt her into what we needed.
Chapter 5
Ella
The fresh morning was perfect for my brisk walk to the hospital. In my head, I was already running through my ward—who was in, what needed doing, what I’d prioritise once my shift started.
This wasn’t the terrified child who’d tried to pry bottles from her father’s hand, only to be slapped away. These were people who appreciated my care. People who deserved it.
Twelve years ago, I should have learned my lesson. But no—I’d persisted in trying to help someone who didn’t want saving. It had been ten whole months since I’d finally cut that miserable cord. The hardest thing I’d ever learned was how to say no.
“Good morning, Terry,” I said, slipping my hand into my bag and producing his banana muffin.
“My wife’s going to kill me, but to hell with my cholesterol,” he said, eagerly taking it from me.
“It’s whole-wheat with flaxseed,” I said lightly.“I used extra virgin oil and dates to sweeten them. You’re safe.”
I smiled and turned toward the corridor, then paused.
“You’re not allergic to nuts, are you?”
“Only the one I live with,” he said with a wink as he peeled back the paper.
I chuckled, shaking my head.
“Have a good one,” I called, lifting a hand as I walked on.
“You too, Ella,” he said, though the muffin muffled most of his voice.
My job wasn’t easy, and morale could dip under pressure. Sometimes the smallest gesture could make someone’s day. I hummed softly as I moved through the reception areas and corridors until I reached my part of the building — the enhanced recovery unit, where I helped patients post-surgery until they were well enough to go home.
“Morning. I’ll be out in a minute,” I said, waving to Lorraine and Hanneli as I passed them and headed for my locker.
The staff room was empty, giving me a brief moment to breathe.
The air carried the layered scents of floral perfume or body spray, coffee, and the faint, sterile undertone of the hospital itself.
I hoped I would always love my job like this.
With a smile on my face, I pulled out the carrot-and-sultana, nut-free muffins for the girls before stuffing my hefty bag into the locker.
Today was going to be a good day.
I could feel it in my bones.
