"I want you to be nearby in case something happens. In exchange, you'd have a place to stay and a salary. It's a practical arrangement." A pause. "That's all it is."
The qualifier landed a little too deliberately.
"You could hire anyone for that," I said.
"I could." His eyes held mine. "I'm asking you."
The room was very quiet.
"I'll give you some time to think about it," he said. And just like that, he walked out.
I stared at the empty doorway for a long moment.
The monitor beeped, steady and unbothered.
I looked down at my wrist where his fingers had been.
CHAPTER FOUR
RIVEN
I gave Mireya an hour.
Sixty full minutes to think through her options, which were, objectively, limited. I told myself that was the only reason I kept glancing at my watch.
I spent those sixty minutes in my office pretending to work. Surgical schedules. Staffing conflicts. Patient charts. Anything to keep my hands moving and my mind off the look on her face when I'd said what I said.
You're coming home with me.
I had not planned to say it that way. The words had come out before the professional filter caught them, blunt and possessive in a way that had surprised even me. What I had meant was practical. Logical. A solution to a problem.
What it had sounded like was something else entirely.
I did not examine that too closely.
At exactly sixty-three minutes, I walked back to her room.
She was still in the hospital gown, IV in her arm, staring at the ceiling like it owed her an answer. Her hair had slipped free from its bun and spread across the pillow in loose waves. She looked younger than she did in the OR. Softer. Like someone had finally stopped asking things of her for five minutes.
I pulled the chair close and sat down.
She turned her head. "Dr. Cross."
"Riven," I reminded. "How are you feeling?"
"Better." A pause. "The fluids helped."
"Good." I leaned back slightly. "I want to revisit the offer."
"I already told you my answer."
"You told me no. I'm asking you to reconsider."
She pushed herself upright against the pillow, and I could see her gathering herself, rehearsing. "I appreciate what you're trying to do. I do. But I don't have time for a second job. I'm already working overtime every week just to keep my head above water. Adding private nursing shifts on top of that isn't rest, it's just a different kind of exhaustion."
"I'm not asking you to take on more work," I said.
She frowned. "You said you needed someone to monitor Emma."
