Chapter 2
Claire
A scorching hot wave of panic washes over me as I come face-to-face with—
“Claire.” Dr. Elliott rests his hand in the middle of my back. It’s friendly and harmless, but I flinch, nonetheless. With his other hand, he gestures toward his… son?
This is his son?
No.
No way.
He said his son’s name is Julio. This is—
“Leo?” My feet are stuck in quicksand. Scratch that. My body is submerged, my arms trapped at my sides rather than accepting the outstretched hand aimed in my direction.
“Leo?” Dr. Elliott remarks. “Do you two know each other?”
I turn to my boss, swallowing down my nerves. “I’m sorry. I’m confused. I thought you said your son’s name is Julio.”
He shakes his head and silently pulls out my chair, encouraging me to sit.
“I go by Leo, Dad.” The young man gives Dr. Elliott a stern look as he, too, sits.
“Forgive me. God forbid I call you by the name I gave you,” Dr. Elliott replies sardonically.
“But what about—”
“I took my mother’s last name,” Leo interrupts, assuming my question correctly.
My eyes flicker toward my boss, but at the sight of his furrowed brow and pursed lips, I put a lid on my curiosity.
“How do you two know each other?” he asks.
“Med school,” Leo answers as a server arrives to take our drink orders.
I stick with water. There’s no way I’m drinking around Leo Riviera.
“You weren’t in the same class?” Dr. Elliott’s question is directed at his son.
“No. I was behind Claire.” The way he says behind Claire makes my skin prickle.
Clearing my throat, I force myself to join the conversation. “I did the accelerated program, remember? I graduated a year ahead of my peers.”
“Always the over-achiever.” Leo nudges me with his elbow like we’re old friends.
On instinct, I wrap my arms around my chest and shift away from him.
“Everything all right?” Dr. Elliott asks.
Shit. The last thing I want is to make a scene in public.
“Oh, yes, sir. Just a little cold.” I rub my arm to add to the claim.
“Here, take this.” Leo tugs his jacket from the back of his seat, and I’m hit by the scent of stale cigarettes mixed with cheap body spray. Instantly, a visceral urge to vomit is ignited inside me. It’s remarkable how a scent can trigger a memory.
“Why are you here so late?” Leo says as he enters the classroom.
My problem-based learning group wrapped up our study session an hour ago, but I stuck around, going over my notes and rereading portions of the text.
We have a huge exam in the morning and I don’t feel prepared.
With all my focus fixed on my task, I barely register the question, and I don’t realize he’s approached and taken the seat next to me until I smell the cigarettes on his breath.
“You smoke?” I ask without looking up.
“Sometimes. Why, do you want one?”
I can’t help but frown. “You want to be a doctor, and you smoke?”
He shrugs. “Lots of doctors smoke.”
“Well, they shouldn’t.” I turn back to my textbook and flip through it, searching for the practice questions. We went over them earlier, but I’d like to run through them one more time.
“Are you always this uptight?”
“Hmm?” I’m only half listening.
He’s not in my year, but the school is small and we all share the common study areas, so we’ve briefly met. His smile is objectively charming, but the way his eyes linger too long when I’m in line at the cafeteria always causes my skin to prickle with unease.
“I said are you always this uptight?”
“I’m not uptight,” I snap.
“Sweetheart, your ears are next to your shoulders.” He leans in, and I shift away slightly. “I may not be a doctor yet, but I don’t think that’s anatomically correct.” He laughs at his lame joke.
Then, without warning, his hand is on the back of my neck, squeezing.
“What are you doing?” I scoot my chair to the right and jerk my head.
It doesn’t deter him, his hand still cuffing my nape. “Relax, sweetheart. You need to relax.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. And do not call me that.” I push his arm away and concentrate on my textbook, praying he’ll get the hint and leave me alone.
He throws his hands up in defense. “I’m just trying to help.” The room falls silent then, but his gaze burns a hole in the side of my head.
Frustration brewing in my abdomen, I say, “Did you need something?”
He leans in a little closer, and the cigarette smell is joined by a hint of cheap body spray. “I think it’s you who needs something.”
“Excuse me?” I slam the textbook shut and snap upright. Only then do I realize we’re alone in the room.
With his voice low, he runs the tip of his finger along my wrist. “You know what helps alleviate stress, right?”
I snap back so fast my left elbow connects with my chair, shooting an electric shock of pain straight to my fingertips. The sensation stuns me for a moment, and before I have a chance to stand, Leo is closer again, whispering, “An orgasm. I could make you—”
“Gotta go,” I shout, pushing my chair away and standing.
He rises, wearing a smug smirk. “Aw, c’mon.”
“No.”
“I’ll even take you to dinner first.”
“No is a complete sentence.” I hold my hand up between us. “I don’t like this, Leo. Please stop.”
He scoffs, his eyes going hard. “I was only offering to get you off so you could relax a bit. No need for the hysterics. The least you could do is thank me.”
That frustration inside me morphs into fury, my body temperature rising. The fucking audacity of this motherfucking fucker.
Quickly, hands nearly trembling, I collect my books. Then I sling my bag over my shoulder and stride across the room. Only he beats me to the door, blocking me in.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispers, looking down the hallway. “I think we got off on the wrong foot, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that.” I shove him with my shoulder, but he’s sturdy and doesn’t budge. “Please move.”
“I’m just trying to be nice.”
I hope the glare I shoot at him incinerates his retinas. “If you wanted to be nice, you would move and never speak to me again.”
With an obnoxious huff, he steps to the side, only giving me enough space to squeeze between him and the doorframe. I shudder as I pass him. I’d rather rub my naked body against sandpaper.
“Bitch,” he whispers, but I don’t dare look back.
“Claire.”
My stomach churns. God, how is this happening?
“Claire?” Dr. Elliott’s deep voice pulls me from my chilling memory.
“Sir?” I follow his line of sight to Leo, who is still offering his jacket to me. “Oh, um, no. Thank you. I, uh… I’m sorry, but will you excuse me for a moment?”
While the two men volley a look of confusion, I stand and snag my purse from the table. Once I’ve located the restroom, I lock myself behind the single stall, my heart racing, and press my palm to my eyes.
Breathe.
It will all be fine. I’ll simply inform Dr. Elliott that his son sexually harassed me. He’ll believe me, right?
My heart plummets. Oh, fuck, what am I saying? Why would he believe me over his own son? This cannot be happening. This is so fucked up. I love my job, but I cannot imagine working with that man. What the hell am I going to do?
Praying Joey will answer this time, I tap her name in my favorites.
Her cheery voice startles me when she answers, sending my pulse racing again.
“Joey,” I whisper-shout into the speaker.
Her tone instantly shifts to one of concern, the volume lowering to meet mine. “What’s going on?”
“Fuck,” I sigh. I’ve never told anyone about Leo.
I wanted to leave that incident in the past and move on.
But Joey is the closest thing I have to a sister, so I dig deep and garner all my courage.
“Um. I’m in a bit of a situation and I’m kind of freaking out.
” As quickly as my adrenaline spiked, it crashes, my extremities beginning to shake.
“Okay. What’s going on? Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?”
“No. Yes? I don’t know,” I sob.
“Send me your location,” she commands in a calm voice.
Joey’s pretty great under pressure; I’ll give her that.
After nearly dropping my phone in the toilet, I share my location with my future sister-in-law, my hands trembling. Then I return the device to my ear.
“I’m at this work dinner thing with my boss and his son. And…” I inhale deeply and say the next part all in one breath. “And his son is an old classmate who sexually harassed me in med school.”
“The fuck?” a deep voice booms through the phone, nearly bursting my eardrum.
My heart races all over again. My brother. Shit. I didn’t want him to know.
“Hey, Cam,” I mumble, squeezing my eyes shut. I really didn’t want him to know. He’s the definition of overprotective. And now I’ll never hear the end of it.
“Are you safe? Where are you?”
“Yes.” I exhale. “I’m in the bathroom. You know what? Never mind. I’m fine. I’m overreacting. I’ll just go back out there and finish the dinner.”
“The hell you will,” he snaps.
The jangling of keys in the background signals that they’re already on their way. Those two jet-set around the world for Cam’s work the majority of the year, but by some miracle, they’re in the city this week, crashing at the hotel.
Shit. I’ll need to make a quick exit unless I want Cam to unleash his big-brother energy and rip Dr. Elliott and his son a new one.
“What am I supposed to say when I go back out there?” I ask.
“Who the hell cares. Just leave. Now,” Cam roars.
Joey, the only level-headed person involved in this conversation it seems, suggests, “Tell them there’s a family emergency.”
“Okay,” I reply, though lying doesn’t appeal to me any more than leaving without an explanation.
After ending the call, I pat my face with a damp towel, then return to the table.
Rather than sit, I hover next to the table, keeping my attention fixed solely on my boss. “I’m so sorry,” I force out, working to keep my tone even, “but something’s come up and I need to leave.”