He leans back, his chair creaking. “Claire. As you know, medical school is a very stressful time. I remember what I was like back then. Pulling all-nighters and walking around like a zombie. Wasn’t it the same for you?”
“Yes, but?—”
“And as a physician, one who regularly sees exhausted new mothers, you know how the mind misfires. How being so tired can sometimes be a disability.”
Confusion washes over me. No, scratch that. Dread drenches me like Niagara Falls. “You can’t possibly becomparing someone’s postpartum depression to my assault. Both are tragic, of course, but one is a mental illness and the other is acrimecommitted by another person. Are you—Are you seriously suggesting I was too exhausted to remember what happened?”
White-hot heat floods my veins and sweat trickles down my spine as I study him, waiting for his response.
Dr. Elliott peers down at his clasped hands before returning his attention to me. “I’m saying?—”
Realization hits me like ice water poured over my head and part of me reverts to the shy little girl I used to be. Suddenly, I wish my brother had come with me. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“I believe my son was attracted to you and was simply trying to get to know you.”
I’m too stunned to speak. Was it really that simple for him to minimize my experience?
Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on the desk. “The truth is, I haven’t had the best relationship with Julio. He was born out of an affair I’m not proud of. And when I retire, he’ll take over the practice.”
A lead weight settles in my stomach. “So you’re giving him your clinic as a way to make amends for your affair?”
His oily jaw ticks. “This is a plan we’ve had in the works nearly his entire life. You wouldn’t want to ruin that for us, would you?”
Stomach rolling, I rise to my feet. Forget what I said about him being a handsome older man. He’s as attractive as the devil.
“Sit down, Claire,” he commands. “Julio will be in any minute so we can sort this out. You’re a good doctor, and I know you’ll do right by your patients.”
Fuck that. He will not use my patients to guilt-trip me into working with this sleazy man. Strike that.Twosleazy men.
“There will be nothing to sort out, sir,” I say through gritted teeth. “I quit.” With that, I turn on my heel.
“Claire,” he urges. “Dr. Connelly.”
As I approach the door, the Spawn of Satan appears at the threshold. Either he reads the room and ignores it, or he’s really that obtuse.
“Morning.” He rubs his hands together. “Looks like a lovely day to save lives.”
Oh, hell no. I’ll be damned if I spend another minute anywhere near this knock-off McDreamy.
More like Dr. McDickface.
This close, I can smell the nicotine gum on his breath. “Morning, Claire.”
No longer obligated to be polite to this man, I walk right past him.
He taps me on the shoulder. “I said good morning.”
I whip around so fast I’m sure I’ll be paying for it with neck pain tomorrow. “If you touch me, so help me God…”
Dr. McDickface rears back, confusion written all over his fucking flaccid peen-face.
Dr. Elliott steps around his desk, distress in his eyes. Patients will be arriving soon. If they’re not already in the waiting room, and the last thing he wants is to bring any negative attention to his business.
“Julio.” His voice is low when he addresses his son. “I’ll meet you in my office.”
The flaccid peen-face gives me one last lingering glare over his shoulder but does as his father asks.
Dr. Elliott raises his arm an inch like he’s going to extend his hand, though he lowers it again, surely thinking better of it. Instead, he juts his chin and says, “You’re a fine doctor. I wish you the bestof luck.”
