Sophia puts an arm around my shoulder, drawing me in. “Let’s get you checked by the doctor,” she says. “Just in case.”
I should protest, should run, but instead I let her lead me back inside, down a hallway lined with mirrors.
My reflection follows, blue eyes wide and bright, golden hair shining under the lights.
I look like someone else, someone naughty and dangerous.
And I like it.
5
CHAPTER 5 – A LATE NIGHT ENCOUNTER
Daisy
We stroll down a private corridor within Sanctum, located between the gym and the art gallery, all hushed marble and indirect lighting, a tunnel of luxurious silence. Sophia’s heels tap in soft sync with mine as she leads me deeper, passing a closed door with a brass plaque that says Medical in unembellished caps. She slows there, her hand barely grazing my wrist, and gives me an encouraging smile.
“Ready to see the doc?” she asks, and the words slither under my skin, more a dare than a question.
My heart is racing. Maybe it’s the way the air hums with a hidden tension, or maybe it’s that I can still taste the chlorine and sex from the pool. Either way, I nod and follow her through.
Inside, it’s not like a doctor’s office, at least not the ones I remember from childhood. There are no plastic chairs or antiseptic stink, just the hush of filtered air and the clean,expensive smell of eucalyptus and mint. A woman in blue scrubs and a crisp white coat greets us with a smile that’s more Vogue than urgent care, and I’m instantly on guard. I can’t explain why, but the sterile serenity of the place feels more like an audition than a check-up.
Sophia introduces me. “Hey Dr. Celine. Daisy’s new to Sanctum. We wanted to get her checked out because she was in an accident of some sort, and still has some amnesia. Plus, we want to make sure she doesn’t have other injuries.”
The doctor doesn’t blink an eye at the word “amnesia.”
“Of course,” the woman says, her eyes kind and clinical. “We’ll take good care of you.”
She guides me to an exam room—cream walls, leather chair, a velvet-upholstered exam table that looks like it’s never seen anything as humiliating as a pap smear. I try to sit like a normal person, hands folded in my lap, knees tight together.
Sophia gives me a look like,You got this, then ducks out, closing the door behind her.
Meanwhile, Dr. Celine gets to work. Her voice is so soothing it almost makes me want to confess every bad thing I’ve ever done, starting with the dirty dreams I keep having about a certain faceless man with intense blue eyes.
“Your friend says you’ve been dizzy, having trouble with your memory?” she prompts, already checking my pulse with warm, slim fingers.
I nod, trying not to flinch as she shines a penlight in my eyes. “Just bits and pieces. Sometimes I get a headache, and then it’s blank.”
She hums, jots notes on an iPad, then asks me to follow her finger left and right, up and down.
“You’re sure you don’t remember how you got hurt?” she asks, pressing gently at my temples.
I shake my head. “No, I just woke up on the street. Maybe a car accident of some sort?”
She pauses, assessing. “I see. Well, we’ll keep it simple. Have you eaten today? Any trouble with your stomach?”
I say no, but my mouth is dry and my insides twist like a wrung out towel. Dr. Celine moves efficiently, checking my heart, blood pressure, the angry welt above my eyebrow. She examines my hands, my arms, then asks me to lie down on the table so she can check my reflexes.
Her touch is light, but I can feel the power behind it. She could snap my wrist in a second, but instead she just taps and tests, moving with the care of someone used to handling expensive things.
Finally, she offers a gentle, “Now, I’m going to check you for any injuries below the waist, all right? Sometimes in an accident, there can be trauma you don’t notice at first.”
I nod and stare at the ceiling, cheeks flaming.
The exam is awkward, and the air is charged. I have the weirdest urge to giggle, but also to run out and never look back. Dr. Celine asks if I’ve ever been sexually active. The question freezes me.
“Um, I don’t know,” I say, and the words come out high and cracked. “I can’t remember.”
