Chapter 18
Zac
The irritation I felt about leaving the fishing trip vanishes the moment I see her.
But listening to her director speak to her like she’s worthless?
That makes my blood fucking boil. My teeth clenched so hard, I felt it in my temples, and I had to curl my fingers into fists at my sides to keep from ripping the phone out of her hand and telling that asshole exactly where he could shove his demands.
But I saw the way she held herself during that call.
Her shoulders were tight, chin lifted in defiance, even as her eyes dimmed, and I knew at that moment that this job means everything to her.
So, I stayed put, even though every instinct screamed at me to intervene.
I head toward the cafeteria, my stride purposeful, even though I have no idea what I’m looking for. Something that might make her smile.
“Dr. Sterling.”
The voice stops me mid-step. I exhale slowly through my nose, recognizing that voice before I even turn around.
Mr. Peltz.
I pivot to see him approaching, his expression unreadable, and my guard goes up immediately.
We meet in the hallway, and I cross my arms over my chest, waiting.
“Meet me in my office. I need to talk to you about something.”
I pull out my phone and order food for Hannah, then head down the hall. I don’t bother knocking.
He’s already behind his desk by the time I sit into the chair across from him.
“How’s Hannah doing?” he asks like he actually cares.
“Better.” I keep my tone clipped, professional.
“I just got off the phone with the director—”
“Dain.” His name comes out like a growl.
Peltz doesn’t even blink. “Yes, him. And the network. We need to discuss Hannah’s recovery plan.”
The way he says it, with that satisfied little smile playing at the corners of his mouth, sends warning bells through me. I narrow my eyes at him, my shoulders tensing. Both of these guys are dicks, and when they agree on something, it can’t be good news.
“What about it?” I ask carefully.
“The network is panicking. She’s fallen twice in less than a week, and she’s the face of a fifty-million-dollar production.
Their insurance company is breathing down our necks about liability.
” He sits back in his chair, eyeing me. “They’re threatening a massive lawsuit if anything else happens to her before filming wraps. ”
I see where this is going, and I don’t like it.
“So they want you to assign her case—”
“They want a Senior Attending,” he interrupts. “Someone with proven expertise, who can oversee her home recovery and guarantee she’s cleared for camera on schedule. With absolute discretion, no exceptions.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “They want a Senior Orthopedic Surgeon to be a glorified babysitter because a TV host is clumsy?”
“They want our best guy so their insurance company doesn’t bleed us dry.
” His eyes narrow, cold and calculating.
“And frankly, Sterling, after your last disciplinary review—that incident with the family member—you need to prove you can handle high-pressure situations without losing your temper. You need to prove you’re a team player. ”
The words hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. He’s using my probation against me. Using my record to force me into this.
“I’m a surgeon, Mr. Peltz. I operate. Even save limbs. And solve complex medical problems. I’m not—”
“Exactly,” he interrupts firmly. “You’re the best guy. So you’re going to prove you can handle this without incident. You’ll be her dedicated medical liaison during her home recovery. Full-time. No other cases.”
“No days off?” I run a hand through my hair, feeling the beginning of a headache pulsing behind my eyes.
“We’ll compensate you, of course. But this is non-negotiable. The network has made their demands clear and, frankly, you’re not in a position to refuse.”
I press my lips into a thin line, feeling the trap close around me. This isn’t an opportunity. It’s a punishment dressed up as a responsibility. It’s him making sure I stay on a short leash while keeping the network happy.
“If you can’t be professional with a high-profile patient, I’ll find another senior surgeon who can. And I think we both know what that means for your career.”
I stare at him, my hands gripping my thighs, biting back multiple responses. But what’s the point? He made up his mind before he even summoned me here.
I thought I disliked him before, but this? This is something else entirely.
“When do I start?”
“Tomorrow. You’ll be stationed at her recovery location. She stays off that ankle, she heals on schedule, and you prove to me that you can handle pressure without blowing up at people. That’s the deal.”
I nod slowly, my body coiled tight.
I’m fucking boxed in. By my own record, by a network’s financial panic, and by a woman who’s already occupying way too much space in my thoughts.