Chapter thirteen
Varley Medical, London
Samantha
Connor paces up and down the corridor for the hundredth time.
Russell is having his injuries assessed by Dr. Rivera.
She banished us all from the room. I sit on the blue leather chair in the hallway and watch him stress over and over about what happened—how it was him who caused his brother to fall to near death.
After Matthew appeared at the penthouse, he told us that Russell had been found and they were waiting on an ambulance and the fire department.
Unbelievably, Russell had merely dropped five stories onto the sun lounger on an extended balcony of an apartment on the fifty-second floor.
During his descent, he’d apparently hit his head on a railing and knocked himself unconscious.
The rattan material of the lounger had broken his fall.
His suspected injuries, according to the paramedics, were concussion and a broken leg. I’d blinked at Connor in shock when he relayed what he was told in the ambulance. I had followed behind in a car with Violet and Harrison. Mrs. D was called in the middle of the night to take care of Evie.
“Only Russell Chase could fall from the fifty-seventh floor and not die,” Hunter says with a chuckle to no one in particular.
“We don’t know for sure what his injuries are,” Connor snaps back. “It could be more serious.”
“Nah, that balloon has enough hot air in him to cushion any fall. He’ll be fine.” Hunter stands, then walks over and grabs Connor’s shoulder. “You didn’t kill your brother, my friend. Stop beating yourself up and be thankful for how tonight ended.”
Violet sits beside me, holding my hand. Connor hasn’t touched me since we arrived here.
He’s been deliberately moving out of my way.
The other men are scattered in seats in the corridor, talking between themselves quietly, all of us impatiently waiting for any news of what is happening.
Finally, the doctor steps out of the treatment room.
Dr. Rivera walks up to Connor and embraces him warmly. He hasn’t mentioned knowing her beyond pleasantries since I worked here. “He’s going to be fine,” she says with a small smile. “A displaced fracture to his left tibia and moderate concussion. Minor injuries considering what happened.”
“Can I see him?” Connor asks, hope obvious in his voice. The doctor smiles again kindly. The woman in front of me is far removed from the dragon I’m used to working for. Her usual persona is cold and sharp as she orders us around the ward, criticizing any small perceived flaw.
“Yes, he’s sleeping though, and you’ll need to be quiet. The fracture in his leg can’t be set and put in plaster until the swelling reduces. We conducted an MRI scan for any damage to the brain, and there is some minor inflammation, which is expected with this type of injury. But all in all,
I’m not concerned there will be any lasting harm.”
“Excellent,” Connor says, his mood lightening. “Please, can my sister come in too, Doctor?” She looks at Violet still holding my hand; her focus then lands on me and her eyebrows lift in surprise.
“Trainee Nurse Coleman,” she says. She emphasizes the word trainee. “What are you doing here?”
I look up, and her eyes narrow. “I was at the apartment when the fall occurred,” I tell her.
“Mr. Chase’s apartment?” she questions. Her expression darkens further as I nod. “And what would you be doing there?”
My hackles rise with the query—this woman grates on me more each day with her jibes and prods for information, while she remains guarded and aloof.
Violet stands and encourages me to follow.
She walks forward, closer to Connor, and passes my hand over.
He takes it and then pulls me beside him, wrapping an arm around my waist.
The terror I’d felt that he may want to end things subsides slightly as our bodies connect.
His close proximity is calming; the smell of him fills my nostrils, and the anxiousness which had risen in my chest moments ago softens.
“Samantha is my brother’s fiancée,” Violet announces firmly, and Connor’s eyes shoot in my direction.
“We’re all extremely excited regarding the upcoming wedding,” she continues, smiling wide at the doctor.
“I’m going to be Sam’s bridesmaid. We haven’t decided on a color scheme yet.”
Connor clears his throat, attempting to stop his sister from veering into a story about our fictional upcoming nuptials.
I stand quietly beside him, holding his hand and unsure what the status between us is.
Violet ignores him. “I was thinking sky-blue, maybe with a hint of mint-green. What do you think?” She turns to me and beams.
“It sounds lovely,” I say, trying to appear confident but failing miserably.
“What a curious situation,” the doctor muses, looking at Connor. He stares back at her and straightens his shoulders.
“Please explain that comment.” His grip tightens on my waist.
“It’s nothing of importance. Go see your brother,” she says, waving in the direction of Russell’s room.
“With all due respect, Doctor, I would appreciate clarity on what was just said. Why would my being engaged to Samantha be curious?”
Dr. Rivera looks from him to me, then back to Connor. Violet shuffles impatiently from foot to foot. I hold my breath, willing her not to say what I’m terrified will pass through her vile lips.
“Well, I’m perplexed as Samantha never mentioned knowing the Chase family, never mind being engaged to one of you.” She pauses, and a horrid smile appears, the one her staff know means our days are about to become more complex. “But it does explain why our education fees have been covered.”
“That was a bursary,” Connor says, confused.
“No, Mr. Chase. Samantha’s full fees were paid by your brother.”
No one speaks, but silent inquiries fill the air with each moment that passes.
“Excuse me,” Connor stutters eventually, letting go of my waist.
His face screws up as if in pain, and those beautiful eyes normally full of fun wither before me.
My heart aches knowing I’ve done this. My inability to tell him what has been going on has made the impact so much worse than it needed to be.
This fact will hurt him more than any other revealed tonight.
My sense tells me that my time with Connor Chase ends here.
“Your brother, Russell, paid Miss Coleman’s course in full and provided living expenses toward her bursary. There was no bursary for a trainee nursing associate position from a previous application. Samantha obtained a placement here purely on his request,
” the doctor confirms brusquely in her most professional tone.
“Did you know about this?” Connor spits, turning to face me. “What the fuck has been going on behind my back, Sam?”
“I only found out recently myself,” I whisper. So many facts have been blown out into the open in a matter of hours. All the silent issues of these past months that I’ve been trying to bury are facing me and need to be dealt with.
“Go home,” he tells me, turning away. I reach for him, but he shrugs my hand away. The doctor watches on, obvious amusement flickering in her eyes.
“I want to support you,” I tell him. Connor walks toward Russell’s door, while Violet stands motionless between us, unsure what to say or do.
The other men stand, then Hunter comes to my side and takes my elbow.
Harrison collects his wife and leads her nearer her brother’s room, encouraging her away from the altercation. “Connor…” I call to his back.
“Go home,” he repeats, not sparing a glance.
“Brother,” Violet says softly. The lilt of her voice is calmer than I’ve ever heard. The siblings face one another, and he shakes his head.
“No, Violet. I can’t deal with this.” Their conversation is only half-spoken but I know much unsaid dialogue is passing between them. “It’s too much. All of it is too much. More complications that I don’t need in my life.”
“Don’t do something you’ll regret in a few days. Samantha wasn’t the one obsessed,” she reminds him.
My beautiful friend glances over, her expression sad.
She had been so excited when Connor and I became official.
My relationship with him has been one of the most real experiences of my life, and I ruined it.
Guilt rears its head, stabbing deep in my chest because of my untruths to both of them.
“Please go home, Samantha. I don’t need your support. I’ll call you later,” Connor says quietly, still not looking in my direction. He sighs softly, his desolation clear. “We can…actually, I don’t know what we can do. But I do know I don’t want you here right now.”
Damon appears on my other side and mimics Hunter's hold. “It’s time to go home,” Damon says firmly. “I’ll drive you.” I shrug them off, but both tighten their grip. “It’s not a choice. Connor has asked that you leave.”
“And I can do so under my own power,” I snap, furious at multiple men trying to tell me what to do.
“He may have asked you to go,” Hunter continues the conversation, “but that doesn’t mean he wants you to roam around London on your own. We’ll ensure you get home safe.”
“She’s a big girl,” Dr. Rivera interrupts.
“With what’s transpired tonight, it’s clear Samantha is perfectly capable of looking after herself.”
She giggles, then covers ruby-red lips with a hand, feigning embarrassment.
“Engaged to one brother while rinsing the other for money. That’s quite the talent you have. The thing is, bad behavior tends to bite you on the ass after a while, and tonight you have been well and truly ravaged.”
“What is your problem?” I hiss, losing the little control I was maintaining. “Since I arrived in this department, you’ve made it quite clear you hate me. Do tell me, Doctor, what exactly did I do to offend you?”
“You got this traineeship through connections, not talent,” she replies instantly.
“And I fucking hate people who get where they are without deserving it. I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t be late for your shift.”
I glance up at the digital clock on the wall; three in the morning and I start work at seven.
“I suggest you get some sleep, because it's going to be a busy day.”
With that, she follows the others into Russell's room.
I watch them disappear with a large, dangerous man attached to each elbow.
Once the door is closed and the others are out of sight, I pull at my arms again.
“Let me go,” I mutter. “Fuck’s sake, I’m not going anywhere. If you want to escort me home, I couldn’t care less.”
Both men release my elbows, then Hunter takes the lead, walking in the direction of the elevator.
I follow with Damon behind me like a wall at my back, close enough that if I move out of line he can grab me.
The doors open as we approach. The compartment is empty, and we all step inside in the same order as we leave the reception area.
Neither of my companions speaks during our descent to the parking garage below; they act as if they don’t know I exist.
The doors reopen, and we step out into the deserted garage, where only a handful of cars are scattered around.
One large SUV sits in a space in the far corner of the basement. Damon leads us in its direction.
Everything about this car screams underworld, from the black paintwork to dark tints on the windows. I am surprised when a man steps out of the driver’s side. He’s big, most likely in his thirties and sporting an array of tattoos.
“Greyson,” Hunter says in a brusk form of welcome.
“Boss,” he replies with a nod. “Where to?”
“If you can take Miss Samantha home, then drop McKinney. Where is Annie?”
Hunter asks as if only just remembering Damon has a daughter.
His nanny, who also became his lover, left him a matter of months ago when he was a complete and utter asshole with her.
She disappeared to Scotland. They should be together, but neither seems willing to drop the stubbornness and reach out, according to Violet, anyway.
My friend is a fountain of gossip and keeps me entertained with Harrison, her brothers, and their friend's stories.
“Her grandparents have her,” he says casually.
“Really?” Greyson interjects.
“Yes. It’s a work in progress but when I called them needing childcare, they were keen to help.”
“It takes a village to raise a child,” Hunter mutters, waving his hand around as if signaling to thousands of invisible people surrounding him.
“How would you know? You don’t have any,” Damon counters.
“Perhaps not biological, but I’ve taken plenty under my wing.”
“I don’t think bad boys from young offenders programs count, Boss,” Greyson says. “It’s not what the proverb means.”
“Maybe not,” Hunter replies with a shrug. “But I see you all as my children, under my supervision and protection.” He holds his arms wide, steps back, and looks to the ceiling. “May I always be able to provide you and many others with employment, shelter, and a prosperous future.”
“Are you for fucking real?” I snarl, stunned by his ego.
Hunter’s focus shoots to me, his head immediately straightening.
He’s a slim man; he doesn’t have the bulk or strength of the other two.
His long dark hair is scraped back into a bun, but there’s a sophistication to him that comes across as natural.
Violet says of all the men who frequent The Level, he’s the most deadly.
“I’m always fucking real,” he says, his tone calm but icy. “Do enlighten me as to what you find fake?”
“It was a figure of speech.”
His head cocks to one side as astute eyes run over my face. “I liked you the first time we met back in September when you squared up to Russell. You have potential, Miss Samantha, if you’re ever looking for employment…”
I laugh out loud. “What? And become one of your minions, the men you have surrounding you to do your dirty work? No, thank you.”
He steps toward me; Damon tenses at my side and Greyson moves a step closer, both of them readying themselves in case shit kicks off.
“Don’t worry, boys,” Hunter says, his eyes flicking between them then back to me.
“This one is too precious to good friends, and I can see the appeal.”
His hand lifts, his fingers grabbing my chin.
“How I would love to cut out that smart-ass tongue, though. A mute, feisty little demon would be easier to manage.”
I don’t think—my knee lifts on impulse and connects directly with his balls. He lets go of my chin, stumbling backward, his hands over his crown jewels. The other men glance at each other and burst into laughter while their boss hops around the parking garage.
“Don’t ever touch me or any woman without her consent,” I warn, my eyes moving between all three of them as all their mouths drop open.
“You bastards may think you’re big and brave. You may think you’re in control of the fucking world. But know that your guns and dangerous reputations don’t scare me.”
“Maybe they should,” Hunter shoots back. I walk forward so I’m within inches of supposedly the most dangerous man in London. After blowing out firmly through my nose, I allow my eyes to move from his face down his body, pausing on his cock still covered by his hands.
“I’m not the one standing in the middle of a parking garage after three in the morning holding my privates,” I tell him. “All of you fuck off. I’m going home, and I’ll take the night bus.”
With that, I turn and walk forcefully away from the three men, leaving the basement without looking back.