Chapter 8 Do You Even Know Who I Am, Bro? #2
“Hush, Lemond,” Joan ordered. “The family is still here, and I trust you kept your mouth shut about Niall Black, right? Unless you want to get sued. Speaking of, Simone, honey, you’re going to need to sign this if you want to work today while he’s here.”
There was a rustling of paper. “Who’s here? Brendan?”
Something in my chest squeezed at the sound of my name coming from that mouth.
Another thing that generous donation had bought us was the requirement that all staff in the ICU sign a strict and costly NDA before starting their shifts today. HIPAA only went so far, and I wasn’t above threatening the livelihoods of every person in here to protect my family’s interests.
But Lemond wasn’t wrong about the wall of press. Last night, just in time for the eleven o’clock news, I’d watched from his window as the TV trucks arrived outside of Mass General.
Leeches, all of them.
“It was difficult to get inside today,” Simone admitted. “Security went over my badges in three different places. I had to sign something down there too.”
Sorry, baby, I thought before wondering where the fuck that had come from.
Baby? Sorry?
“What’s the fuss about?” Simone wondered as she looked over something on a clipboard.
Lemond snorted. “Girl, where’ve you been? Thought you’d want to come back to sit with Mr. Moneybags now that he woke up.”
“Lemond!” hissed the other nurse.
He didn’t even look a little ashamed. “What? We can’t be honest?”
Simone’s big blue eyes opened fully, mouth dropped in shock. “I’ve, um, had some family issues to deal with. Is Mr. Black doing well? Why didn’t someone call me?”
I hadn’t told her at the bar that Dad had woken up. Had just quietly left a stack of bills that amounted to far more than the alcohol I’d consumed, then headed straight back to the hospital to negotiate the chaos surrounding Dad as he came in and out of consciousness.
I frowned. Why did she care so much? She didn’t even know him. She didn’t know us.
I suspected that if she really did, her reaction would be different.
Joan seemed to have the same line of thinking. “Why would we call you? We love you, honey, but I got better things to do than track down missing volunteers. Besides, the family was here. Mainly the one son, but the rest of them have been filtering in and out too.”
I slunk down lower against the wall, already feeling Simone’s gaze toward Dad’s room. I didn’t ask myself why I was hiding. Or why I felt the need to listen to this conversation.
Maybe because I was preparing for the inevitable. The part where she recounted our conversation at the bar. The one I had stupidly engaged in without any form of legal protection, NDA or otherwise.
In just a few minutes, Simone had uncovered more details about me than most people knew in the world.
And now it was about to reach a row of gossips. The only question was how bad she would make me out to be.
“Is he really that famous?” Simone asked.
My mouth dropped. She still didn’t know?
Lemond snorted. “Girl, please. Your patient in there is one of the richest men on the planet. Haven’t you ever heard of Blackguard Holding?”
“I—a little. But I didn’t really think about it.”
“It’s one of those companies that owns a bunch of other companies. That dude in there is Boston’s Warren Buffett. Mr. Black has the Midas touch, started out as a bookie in the 1960s and built his company out of that. And his kids are all just as ruthless as their pop.”
It was correct, technically. But it made a family business sound like a small operation, when, in fact, Dad’s prowess had turned Blackguard Holding into the best investment company on the planet, with a finger in nearly every market and stakes in so many household names, we needed executives to manage each branch of the company like it was its own multinational corporation.
Having four kids came in handy.
It also made the competition for the top spot—CEO of Blackguard Holding—intense. But I was always supposed to be the winner.
“That’s not the impression I got,” Simone said. “I talked to one of them for a bit, and he was…not like that.”
Oh, baby. You have no idea.
“Probably in shock about his dad,” said Lemond. “You think he’s going to make it?”
“That is not our job to speculate on,” Joan replied. “Which I know you know, Lemond.”
“Wonder what he’s really worth,” Lemond kept going. “Google says over two hundred billion, but I bet it’s more.”
It was, in fact, closer to two fifty. Offshore accounts, real estate speculation, art collecting were all very handy tools. So was compound interest.
“Bet it’s a bloodbath right now with all of them vying for the top spot.” Lemond couldn’t quite help himself. “I wonder if they’re just waiting for him to kick the bucket.”
I opened my mouth to inform this asshole that he no longer had a job with the hospital, NDA or no. Who the fuck cared that most of what he was saying was absolutely true? He could fuck right off.
“Shame on you,” Simone said sharply.
But now I could see over the top of the computer monitor. Could see her standing, small but glowing, with her hands on her slender hips, hair pulled back into a ponytail that swayed back and forth as she shook her head.
The nurse at least had the decency to look ashamed, but he kept going.
“Don’t tell me you actually feel sorry for these people.
Niall Black is practically one of the four horsemen.
One of those billionaires responsible for global warming, rising poverty levels, and the demise of the middle class, and raising four kids in his spitting image. These are not good people.”
Simone turned just enough that I could see an adorable cleft appear between her brows as those full lips pursed. “No matter who the Blacks are or what they’ve done, they’re going through a terrible time. They don’t just deserve our care. They deserve our compassion.”
It was a solid argument. It did not, however, contradict Lemond’s assessment of my family.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Joan put in. “Now I have to scoot. Lemond, you’ve got rounds to make.”
Now by herself, Simone rubbed a hand over her face. “Compassion,” she muttered again before grabbing a chart and turning in the direction of my father’s room with something more like determination.
Until, at least, she found me in the doorway.
“Brendan. You are here.”
Her eyes popped open, and the sky blue was a beacon calling me home. And by God, I wanted to answer it.
I stood up straight, no longer even pretending I hadn’t been listening. “I am.”
She strode toward me, stopping just outside Dad’s room. Up close, she still glowed but looked, politely, like hell.
Shadows circled her red-rimmed eyes, and her golden skin was sallow with fatigue. The pink scrubs she wore were wrinkled, and her hair had been hastily brushed back into a limp ponytail.
She was still gorgeous.
“Thank you, by the way,” I said after I cleared my throat. “For what you said back there to the nurses.”
“Oh, God. You heard that?” Her cheeks flushed. I wondered if they did that when she was happy, too.
I shrugged. “I was about to tell them where to shove it, but you did my job for me.”
Again, she rubbed her face, despite the fact that she hadn’t done anything wrong. “Well, that’s mortifying. These are some of the best medical workers in the world, I promise. But maybe they aren’t very good people.”
“Most aren’t. I’m used to it.”
She gave me a funny look. “Please don’t have them fired.”
“Why would I do that?” I asked as if I hadn’t been considering it.
Simone sighed. “Lemond is rude, but he’s also the best nurse on the ward. The patients love him, and no one is better in a crisis. If something happened to your dad, he’s the one you want rushing in to revive him.”
I nodded, though there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d be letting that guy near my dad. Since she was asking, though, I’d keep my claws sheathed.
“How is he? Do you want me to stay with him? Do you need a break?”
We both glanced back at where Dad was sleeping again. Thank God. I didn’t want to think about how he’d take this little interaction.
“He’s out right now,” I said. “The doctors said with older patients, it can take some time, but he should be ready to go home today.”
“That’s good. Will he have someone with him at home? Older patients can sometimes get a bit disoriented in the evenings. It’s this strange phenomenon called sundowning. Just so you’re aware and ready.”
She didn’t look away from me when she was speaking.
Most people did. Maybe because they were nervous, or maybe because they found my own stare too direct. Simone, however, kept her eyes fixed directly on me whenever she was speaking or listening.
It was unnerving. And maybe a bit addictive.
Which must be why I found myself looking away first.
What?
“Brendan?”
A soft touch found my hand, and I jerked my head down to where her fingers curled around mine with a light squeeze.
“How are you?” she asked.
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. I couldn’t stop looking at our entwined fingers.
She took her hand away.
I wanted to grab it back.
“I’m fine,” I said a little too brusquely.
When she shied, I took her hand again without thinking about it.
This time, she was the one who jerked.
But I couldn’t stop myself. Just like I couldn’t stop myself from staring. This was more than an awkward silence between two strangers. That blue-eyed gaze blinked a few times, then flickered down to my lips and back to my eyes.
Oh.
Oh.
Simone Bishop was attracted to me.
She shifted, obviously uncomfortable, but did nothing to take her hand back.
I stroked my thumb over her knuckles, tracing the delicate bones.
I didn’t want to let go.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to let go.
“Where were you this week?” I asked. “You told me at the bar you come every day, but I haven’t seen you.”