Chapter 8 Claire
CLAIRE
“Dr. Donovon.”
I stopped mid-step down the hallway. Hearing the registration employee calling out for me—again—gave me pause. It also induced some anxiety to kick back in. But I knew I wasn’t in the wrong here.
Please, just stop bothering me about any of this.
I heaved a deep breath in an attempt to regain my composure, then turned to face the older woman.
She pursed her lips, looking out of place among all of us in lab coats and scrubs.
Such an office-appropriate outfit like the smart pantsuit she had on didn’t exactly fit in.
She was too posh, too fancy, too used to doing her job in the confines of an office on some other floor of this mega hospital that I’d never set foot in.
“I have been trying to get a hold of you,” she said wryly as she approached me. “Every day, I call and text and email.”
I raised my brows, seeing no point to speaking up when she was clearly on a roll here.
“And now I’ve got to resort to chasing you down in the hallway?” She flung her arms up, looking exasperated.
“Chase all you want.” I shrugged. “I’ve got patients to see. Good day, Dawn.”
“It’s Donna,” she corrected without any kindness. “And I don’t care about pleasantries or if you know my name. You damn well know what I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for.” She exhaled a long breath. “Why are you being so difficult about updating that chart?”
“I’m not.” I crossed my arms, hugging my tablet full of pending charts to check through. My patients were waiting on me. Yet, it was painfully clear that this administrative employee from billing and registration would hound me until I was gone on that mission overseas.
“I am not being difficult about anything,” I replied.
“Yes, you are. When you fail to provide any details about that John Doe patient—not even a freaking name—you make it hell for me to do my job.” Jabbing her finger at her chest was more emphasis than she needed to rely on. I heard every drop of frustration in her tone.
I shook my head. “That’s not my problem.”
“Yes, it is!” She raised her hands again only to drop them theatrically.
“My supervisor is on my ass for the completion of that registration. I cannot proceed with insurance claims, to forward anything to billing, to verify anything to be sent to coding. Nothing. You are stalling this entire process by not coming forward and explaining who that patient was!”
I narrowed my eyes, annoyed with her attitude. I didn’t deserve this. I wasn’t going to take this crap from her, or anyone else.
“I provided all that I know,” I replied with a cool glare. “Just like I explained in my notes, in my after-visit summary, and with the assumed file of his AMA, I do not have an explanation for you about that patient. He came in, he was treated, and he left before anyone could advise him otherwise.”
“But you spoke to him. You noted that in the file. You spoke with him and he couldn’t have given you a clue where to reach him?”
He had, actually. Mikhail had given me his number, but I hadn’t passed that on to anyone else. Using the name he’d given me, I summarized the short visit and vowed to put him out of my mind.
I hadn’t. I couldn’t. Mikhail was branded in my psyche as a mystery I wouldn’t be able to solve.
“I provided all the details that he allowed me to have.” I raised my chin, daring this woman to push me to do anything else. She was in admin. I was in the business of saving lives. There was no gray area between us, and I’d done all I could for her to handle her end of this industry.
She growled, shaking her head and making her glasses slip down her nose. “Mikhail Orlov? Do you even know how ludicrous that is?”
I shrugged.
“He’s dead. Mikhail Orlov died thirty years ago!”
I shook my head. “Then that’s your problem to solve.” Maybe he gave me a fake name. It wouldn’t shock me with how badly he wanted to get out of the hospital last week. Even if he had, though, it wasn’t my fault.
Stepping closer, I loomed over her and narrowed my eyes. “Just because I’m a new employee to this hospital does not give you any right to boss me around. You do your job, and I’ll do mine. If I wasn’t given any other information, then that’s just it.”
Yet, as I seethed and said those words, a creeping sensation of guilt traced up my spine. I did have more information. He’d given me his number before breezing out of here, and I should’ve provided that to this woman or someone else in her department.
Yet, something held me back.
Whenever I thought about suggesting that they call him for billing at that number, I remembered how worried he was about being “exposed” here. The idea that this hospital could be a concerning location for him peeved me and mystified me. But I fell back to Fatima’s advice—to not get involved.
Turning away from the billing woman, I spotted Fatima smiling at me at the nurses’ station, clearly overhearing what I’d said.
“Boy, is she barking up the wrong tree,” she muttered, speaking quietly enough that only I’d hear.
“How so?”
She smiled like she had to explain something to a moron. “Oh, Claire. It’s not like those Mafia men ever do anything by the books. They stay off the record. They avoid the law. Of course, he wasn’t going to sit around and wait to be officially discharged and sign his agreement to pay for services.”
I nodded, already having suspected that much.
But it really shouldn’t matter to me. It didn’t.
I was expected to hold up my oath and treat any and everyone who needed help.
The homeless, the wealthy. The lost and the stable.
How those bills were addressed wasn’t my concern.
I was only here to practice medicine and improve the well-being of my patients’ lives.
“While they won’t do anything the ‘right’ way and fill out forms and documents, I suppose they sort of make up for it in other ways.”
I frowned at her. “How so? Donations?”
She nodded. “Big donations. I heard one was announced just this morning.” With a sly smile, she pointed at a huge bouquet of flowers that had been delivered earlier too. “And grand gestures of thanks, too.”
“Oh, stop. You can’t prove that’s from him.”
“I can’t think of any other patient you’ve had in a while who could afford that.”
She may have had a good point there, but I wouldn’t be agreeing with it anytime soon.
When those flowers showed up, addressed with gratitude to me, I thought of Mikhail.
Even if he hadn’t had those flowers sent with a short and cryptic note that thanked me for my professionalism and expert care, he had been on my mind anyway.
It was impossible to scrub my brain of all thoughts about him.
I was getting better at ignoring the flashbacks of him standing up and dropping that hospital gown, revealing his big, thick—
Okay. Just stop! I pressed my hand to my head and closed my eyes. Bloody hell. Just stop thinking about it. Or him. It. Argh…
Throughout the rest of the day, like all the other days since he’d come and gone from my orderly life here, he was in my thoughts. And it seemed that everyone wanted to ask me what I thought of the older Mafia man, the sexy boss of the dangerous organization.
I didn’t have anything to tell them. Gossiping wasn’t something I cared to participate in anyway, but where Mikhail mattered, I wanted to, well, keep the mystery to myself.
“How come Jack’s not in?” I asked later in the shift when one of his patients coded and passed away. It wasn’t his fault, but it was impossible not to consider the other doctor when it happened.
Fatima shrugged. “I think he took a few days off.” She grinned. “Why? You getting tired of thinking about your hot Mafia man and need to include some fantasies about your sexy doctor?”
“Oh, please.” I rolled my eyes. “My sexy doctor? Nothing’s happening between me and Jack no matter how flirty he wants to try to be.” I would never fall prey to the constant drama and sleeping-around in this workplace.
She set the tip of her pen on her lip and chewed it slightly, smiling slyly. “Uh-huh.”
I shook my head, peeved but not put off by her teasing.
“But I was wondering about Jack.” After looking around to make sure no one was listening in, I confided in her about how Jack reacted when he saw that Mikhail was in the room.
How he’d wanted to call the cops and have him arrested even though he hadn’t woken up yet.
“It seemed so odd,” I said in conclusion, hating that I was gossiping now.
“Maybe he was just being overprotective of you,” Fatima suggested with a shrug. “He’s made it clear that he’s got his eyes on you, and he didn’t want to worry about your being in a room with a dangerous man.”
For God’s sake. Mikhail was unconscious. He wasn’t a danger to me. Yet, when he woke up, he sure made an impression on me.
“What’s on your mind?” she asked as we walked from the station together.
“Umm…” I shook my head. “I was thinking that he seemed so against Mr. Orlov being a patient of mine, or at this hospital at all.” If that was even his real name since it came up to match a dead person’s.
“Yet he was fine with those Italian street thugs being here. He seemed so nice and casual with them, so friendly.”
But not with Mikhail.
All of them were likely living lives no one else could fathom. I certainly couldn’t as the daughter of a judge. I couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like to exist with such lawlessness, thinking I was above the law and untouchable with the laws and rules that were set in society.
“Maybe Jack prefers those Italians because they make hefty donations to this place as well.” Fatima shrugged, dismissing it all.
I couldn’t, though. For the rest of my shift and into the next one, I couldn’t shake off this hunch that Jack had been overly protective about my being near Mikahil. As if he, not all the other mobsters, was somehow worse.