Chapter 70
Chapter Seventy
In a world where you can be anything, be the terror in the night who brings nightmares to men who call their female colleagues ‘babe.’
—From Remy’s Sinister Affirmations
Remy
Troy was at it again, mouthing off in the surgeon’s lounge.
She could hear his claptrap through the closed door as he bitched about the food in the lounge, the poor state of residents being trained, his scrub nurse, and Remy herself.
Striding into the lounge, she cut off the start of what she was sure was ramping up to be a scathing screed about her.
She motioned for him to join her across the lounge, where there was more privacy.
“Troy,” she bit out, keeping her voice low as she pinned him with a fierce gaze.
“I’ve absolutely had it with you and your attitude.
Keep this up, and I’ll throw you out of this hospital.
You can finish this conversation with yourself in the parking lot.
Exactly no one wants to hear the rot coming out of your mouth. ”
Troy opened and closed said orifice, no sounds coming out.
“Last warning, Troy. Last. One. I’m already documenting your behavior in your file. Stop mouthing off. Stop calling your female colleagues ‘babe’ and ‘girlie.’ Start treating others with respect, or you can start looking for a new job. Without a reference from Evangelist. Your choice.”
She folded her arms, staring him down.
“Yes, Dr. Remington. Understood,” he gritted out, saying the right things. But Remy could read the sinister look in his eyes. Sadly, she spoke ‘angry narcissist’ fluently. This was not going to end well for him. The tension was already too thick to resolve easily.
Remy debated going straight to Brinder, but she really wanted to eat a decent snack before launching into her last case of the day.
She’d missed lunch, and her growling stomach was already hollering at her for that.
Her life may be drastically different than two months ago, but at least her pre-Sebastian routine was still solidly intact, including her propensity for skipping meals in favor of seeing patients.
The last weeks had dragged by, the early August heat as oppressive as her loneliness for her favorite clown. Yes, they FaceTimed multiple times a day. They’d even—Remy’s cheeks flushed at the memories—engaged in phone sex. But nothing could replace Sebastian Wheatley, live and in person.
Soon he’d get a weekend off, and he was already sending her fabulously filthy messages about what he intended to do to her body.
Remy smiled to herself, nibbling on curry chicken salad she’d dolloped on a cracker.
She had ten minutes. Just enough time to swallow some sustenance and send her own message to Sebastian.
She wasn’t nearly as proficient at sexting as he was, and she certainly wouldn’t do that in a public space where anyone might look over her shoulder, but she was definitely going to send something flirty to her husband.
Her husband.
Sebastian Wheatley was her husband.
Was it normal for a forty-seven-year-old woman thinking about the man who held her heart to feel…giddy?
She knew he would be immersed in filming—he’d warned her today was a long shoot—but she’d send something flirty for him to enjoy later.
Remy’s phone buzzed as she unlocked it, startling her.
Lila was right. She was jumpy.
“Something wrong, Dr. Remington?”
Remy wanted to smack the smirk off Troy’s face. She carefully composed her features, tamping down that sweet fantasy. Besides, Remy wasn’t a violent woman; she’d had enough of that. She preferred private, respectful, but effective evisceration by words. And only when warranted.
Before she could formulate a pithy response, Brinder bustled into the lounge, exhaling in relief when he saw her. But then she caught the look on his face.
Blood drained from her head, and Remy was glad she was sitting, as she wasn’t sure she could feel her extremities. “Is it Sebastian? What happened? Is he ok? Did something happen on set?”
“Bash is fine, Remy. But, something has happened.” He glanced around, and Remy realized they had a very attentive audience, one not even trying to pretend they weren’t actively listening. “I need you to come to my office.”
Heart thudding, Remy stood on shaky legs. “But my case—”
“Is going to be delayed. Or performed by another surgeon.”
“But I’m not—what’s going on—”
“Remy,” he responded carefully, dragging a hand through his hair, “it’s best we discuss this privately.
Now.” He scanned the room. “And I thank each of you in advance for respecting Dr. Remington’s privacy and not fueling the gossip mill.
” He took her by the elbow. “Any more than it’s already spinning,” Brinder muttered under his breath.
Remy blinked her eyes repeatedly to clear them.
She didn’t need reading glasses yet, but she couldn’t seem to focus on the screen in front of her.
Not after reading the first screaming headline on the popular entertainment website.
She plastered a hand over her mouth to keep from howling in rage and devastation.
Bash Wheatley Marriage a Fraud!, it blared in a massive, bold font. And below it, Middle-aged gold digger traps him in marriage!
Short puffs of air hit her hand as she panted, fighting to catch her breath.
“Wait, what? I don’t understand,” she whispered, her whole body trembling.
Brinder had guided her into his office chair, showing her the article, regret and fury emanating from him.
Now, he eased the chair away from his desk and bent her forward so her head was tucked between the legs of her scrub pants.
“Take some deep breaths, Remy. Honor is on her way here for moral support. She and Grayton’ll take you home.
And Benny’s already put in a call to Bash’s agent to offer her assistance managing this. It’s just a rumor. We’ll solve it.”
“But…it’s not…a rumor,” Remy gasped out, fighting to pull air into her lungs, her nose stinging with the tears she was holding back.
“It is.” Brinder’s voice was soft but firm. “Don’t try to do surgery on this right now, Remy. You have a team to help you and Bash figure this out. And uncover who leaked it.”
Remy dropped her head onto her arm, closing her eyes and praying this was just a bad dream. But, in minutes, Melody was on speakerphone. She was talking rapidly, but Remy could barely take in her words.
Remy heard Brinder’s office door open and Amani’s low voice. She handed Remy a glass of water, pausing to pat her on the back. It was that solicitous, kind action that broke Remy’s emotional walls. She crumpled inward, sobbing.
“Arabella? Is that you? Why is she crying? Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?!”
Sebastian’s frantic voice cut through her despair. Melody must have patched him in.
“Arabella, what happened? I was on set in the middle of filming, and the next thing I know, Jared is practically dragging me into my trailer. Angel, are you ok?”
Remy could hear his distress, but couldn’t manage to form any sounds other than the sobs escaping from behind her hand.
“Bash, it’s Brinder here. We’re in my office. Listen, I need you to stay calm—”
“How the fuck am I supposed to stay calm when my wife is in your office and crying so hard she can’t even talk to me?” Sebastian hollered, making Remy jump in reflex.
As if he could sense her reaction, Sebastian exhaled roughly. “Fuck. Arabella, I’m so sorry I raised my voice. I’m just really worried and freaking the fuck out.”
“Bash,” Melody’s voice cut through. “We have a problem. Someone leaked your arrangement with Dr. Remington.”
“Leaked it?” Sebastian sounded more confused now than angry, which was progress. As for Remy, she was barely breathing.
Too good to last.
Her magical world with Sebastian always had an expiration date—even if he would never admit it. Only…now it seemed it would be sooner than she’d ever feared at her lowest times.
Melody cleared her throat. “According to the outlet that broke the story about thirty minutes ago, a source close to you and Dr. Remington revealed the true nature of your marriage. An eight-digit donation to a charity of Dr. Remington’s choosing in exchange for marriage to you, allowing you to secure your role in Paradise,” Melody offered concisely, her voice devoid of any emotion.
Well, that makes one of us.
Remy flashed to that first meeting at Brinder’s, when she thought movie star Bash Wheatley was punking her. He’d been a stranger with an outrageous suggestion. Now? He was the center of her world.
“Oh my fucking God!” Remy heard the sound of something breaking on the other end of the line, and then low, soothing words from Jared that she couldn’t make out.
“I need to address this,” Melody filled in sharply, as if Sebastian weren’t melting down in Nashville while Remy herself was collapsing in horror and shame.
“No. I need to address this.” Sebastian’s tone brooked no arguments.
“But Bash—”
“Dammit, Melody. Just let me think for a second.”
Everyone was so quiet, Remy could hear the faint ticking of Brinder’s wall clock, though the whooshing of her frantic heartbeat nearly drowned it out.
“Arabella, I hate that I can’t see you. Are you ok, Angel?” Sebastian’s voice wrapped around her heart and squeezed.
“I’ve been better,” she croaked out, then took a sip of water, wishing it were a big glass of red wine instead. “You need to call Walter. Tell him everything.”
“Yes, Walt needs a call. But, Arabella, I’ll make this right. We know the truth of our love. How we got to where we are is nobody’s business but ours. I’ll fix this. And then I’ll find out who leaked this story, and I’ll fucking ruin them.”
An image of Slash’s smirking face flashed behind Remy’s eyes. He wouldn’t. Would he? He and Sebastian were best friends. And the battle over Paradise versus the action series was already done and dusted.
But…could it be as simple as revenge? Slash and she hadn’t warmed up to each other. He hadn’t even been invited to their wedding. Maybe this was his way of getting to her?
Remy shuddered. She’d spent her entire adult life building the necessary armor to survive in what could be a cruel, unfair world.
And now? She’d left herself defenseless. Again.