Chapter 4
SULLIVAN
The conference room smelled faintly of printer toner, hospital food, and chemicals.
I couldn’t wait until my actual office was ready, but for now, I’d made myself at home here.
The sheer amount of paper spread across the table would probably terrify anyone else, but to me, this was clarity incarnate.
My graphs, projections, and reports were all aligned with ruthless precision. Every number meant something. Every figure mattered. Everything could be optimized and this was how I would do it.
A knock at the door barely registered as I recalculated staffing projections for the fifth-floor renovation. Liana didn’t wait two seconds after knocking before her voice filtered through the fake wood.
“Your two o’clock appointment is here.”
I didn’t have a two o’clock appointment. I rarely did. Afternoon appointments were for people who couldn’t manage their schedules. I managed mine like it was a feat of German engineering.
“I don’t—” I started, but the door opened before I could finish and my sister strode in, smiling innocently before turning to sweep a hand toward the open door.
“Sullivan Crowne, allow me to introduce you to Bree Bennett.”
I froze. The woman I had noticed on my first day walked into the conference room after my sister. Once again, her dark hair was pulled back into a hasty ponytail, her blue eyes like laser beams as they met mine.
There was no mistaking that it was her, the very same woman who’d stared at my suit like it was a rag and who’d defiantly refused to blink while everyone else had applauded timidly.
But now, she was here, her expression smooth instead of challenging, and oddly, she was holding a clear plastic takeout container with a cannoli inside.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice threaded with a curiosity I refused to acknowledge. “I don’t have a two o’clock today, Liana.”
As she often did, my sister ignored the tension in the room entirely and continued as if this was a perfectly normal, perfectly desirable interruption. “My new friend here wants to discuss some of the changes you’ve been making.”
Bree gave me a look that was part diplomacy, part firecracker. “I wanted to start off on the right foot, so I brought you your favorite dessert.”
I turned slowly to Liana, knowing she must be responsible for Bree having that information. “What are you up to?”
She gave me a little shrug, already turning to excuse herself. “Sorry, I have to call my flower guy.”
A moment later, she was gone, leaving the door wide open behind her. I didn’t move to take the dessert, so Bree just stood there, holding it awkwardly, the plastic container hovering between us like a peace offering I had no intention of accepting.
“Alright,” I said finally, sliding my elbows onto the table and looking up at her. “What did you want to discuss that was so urgent you failed to make an appointment in advance?”
Those exceptionally blue eyes locked intently on mine, her chin lifting ever so slightly. “We need to talk about the paper gowns.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “Ah. You thought you could butter me up with dessert and I would just change my mind. Is that it?”
“No. I brought the dessert because apparently you like cannoli and I was hoping you wouldn’t be a jackass if you knew I tried to come in peace.”
Surprised by her directness, I leaned back in my chair and folded my hands over my abs, not once breaking her stare. “It’s not the worst strategy anyone has ever tried, but unfortunately for you, I can’t be bought. I don’t run my business that way.”
“You don’t run your business by having meaningful discussions with people who know more about the industry than you?”
“Your industry,” I corrected the slight, but crucial mistake she’d made.
“You know more about your industry, but in mine, no one knows more than me and I’ve crunched the numbers, Ms. Bennett.
That’s how I run my business. I plan. I project.
Those gowns will save us money. That money allows us to redo the fifth floor, upgrade equipment, and ultimately, help more people. They’re staying.”
“They won’t save as much as they’ll lose if patients start writing reviews about them.”
“They’re perfectly fine, better quality than is used in most other hospitals similar to this one and much cheaper than the cloth type. Those require thorough and constant cleaning and their base cost is much higher.”
“Are you sure you don’t want the cannoli? Some sugar might make the medicine go down easier.”
My eyes narrowed. “Keep the fucking cannoli. I don’t want it. No amount of sugar is going to make the other gowns cheaper or these less effective. Those are the facts.”
Her arms crossed, her gaze sharpening as her spine straightened, her chin lifting just a little bit higher. Whatever else Liana had advised her to do before she’d come in here, she’d clearly abandoned all pretense and niceties now.
“You don’t know a damn thing about running a hospital with living, breathing people in it.”
Despite myself, I leaned forward slightly. “Don’t I?”
“What makes sense on a spreadsheet doesn’t work when it’s someone’s mom, or uncle, or grandmother who’s up all night in their hospital bed, unable to sleep because you wanted to save a few pennies.
” Her tone was cutting but measured, like she was both scolding and pleading at the same time.
“Every patient in every bed is a real person who’s paying good money to be here.
They don’t come for a vacation or just to take a quick break from their lives.
They’re here because they’re sick, already not feeling well, and you want them clothed in crinkle paper for the duration of their stay. ”
“Those gowns—”
“Suck.”
“—are perfectly acceptable,” I said as if she hadn’t tried to cut me off. “Comfort cannot trump efficiency or innovation.”
“Comfort is what keeps people coming back and referring us to others. Comfort helps sick people get better.”
“This is not a hotel, Ms. Bennett. What will keep patients coming back is an excellent standard of care and cutting-edge treatments.”
“Wow, you really are a soulless robot, aren’t you? I honestly don’t think you understand the cost of your efficiency in human terms. We’re not asking for hot tubs and water slides. Patients have a right to dignity and these gowns stomp all over that.”
I looked back at her. She wasn’t trying to be sweet or playing nice. She wasn’t pretending to like me. She was furious, and in the middle of my meticulously calculated world, she was a variable I hadn’t accounted for.
A challenge.
Yep. Can’t be mad about that.
As her words hung in the air between us, I couldn’t deny that I was intrigued. She was fire and I was steel, but no matter how hot she burned, she still wasn’t going to get through me.
“The soullessness is what allows me to have vision,” I said finally, unbothered by the accusation. In comparison to other things I’d been called, soulless was almost kind. “I don’t get bogged down by the irrelevant details.”
“Patient care is an irrelevant detail? Tell me, do you have figures in your heart where the empathy was supposed to go?”
“Yes, I do, but those numbers save lives. Empathy does nothing but slow a person down.”
“Every patient who’s up all night because you decided the cheap, scratchy paper gown was worth it is going to hate you forever. That’s not to mention every person who works here, who’s going to have explain to that patient why they can’t have a proper gown.”
“I’m not trying to be loved,” I said evenly. “I’m trying to be efficient.”
“That might be what you’re trying to do, but the only thing you’re achieving is to alienate the very people you need to keep this place running.”
“Your reasoning is emotional and illogical, Ms. Bennett.” I arched an eyebrow at her.
“No one is suggesting the patients walk around naked. Their dignity will remain very much intact, and with it, they’ll receive the very best treatment that modern medicine has to offer.
If anyone is alienated by that, my advice would be for them to seek mental help or perhaps another career path. This is about healing, is it not?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I said crisply. “When life-saving technology is on the line, no one should care about what they’re wearing.
As long as they are wearing something, I suppose.
Although, if it was me and I had a choice between being utterly bare and receiving the best treatment out there, or being clothed in the finest robe in the world but being left with outdated technology, I know what I would choose. ”
“Your life-saving technology won’t help those of us who are on the ground at night, trying to comfort people who can’t sleep because in addition to being gravely ill or in pain, their gowns are scratching the hell out of them.”
“Good outcomes will comfort them. So will progress. Those are the things I care about.”
Her chest was heaving now, her eyes narrowed and her head shaking. “Progress doesn’t mean making patients feel like they’re wearing cheap, wet napkins.”
“I—”
“Stop it!” she snapped, her voice several octaves higher and her eyes wild. Then she did something I never would’ve seen coming.
I watched it happen almost as if time itself had slowed down. She grabbed the cannoli out of the container and hurled it at me. It spun through the air with tragic elegance, landing squarely on my lap and squashing into a sugary, creamy smear.
My eyes widened, but she was already storming out, slamming the door behind her with enough force to rattle the papers on the table. The scent of chocolate and indignation wafted through the air as I sat there, stunned and breathing hard.
Liana walked in, her expression half shock and half amusement as she bit back a laugh. “Oh my God. I like her even more now.”
“Then it’s a pity I’m going to have to fire her,” I said flatly, standing and brushing sugar from my suit.
“Hell no.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t you dare. Standing up to you isn’t a crime, and in all fairness, you were being a prick. Bree tried being nice and you cursed at her. You’re lucky a cannoli is all she threw at you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Perhaps, but she still just threw a cannoli at me.”
“It could’ve been a cheesecake,” she said, shaking her head. “Or a box of used syringes. Just chill, okay? She’s smart and I just did some asking around about her. She’s really good at her job. You need her.”
Since I honestly didn’t even know what role she fulfilled in this hospital that she was apparently so good at, I just grunted and gathered my things. A minute later, I left the conference room, marching to the parking lot with aggravation sweeping through me like a wildfire.
Back in my penthouse, the city sprawled out below me like a tiny chessboard.
Since I hadn’t had time to decorate yet, the space was pretty bare, but it was functional.
A bed in the bedroom, couches and a TV in the living room, and a table and chairs in the dining area.
Plenty of scotch and takeout containers.
Basically, I had enough to survive, but nothing more. I’d only bought this place right before I’d moved here, and while I’d planned on hiring a decorator, I hadn’t even gotten around to that just yet.
With the hospital takeover consuming my life, I hadn’t had time for anything else. Everything but work had simply evaporated. Including my social life.
Back in Philly, I’d had no shortage of distractions. Casual hookups that knew better than to expect anything more from me.
New York was different. Here, I was deep into a work-induced dry spell, which made returning to a bare apartment feel less like solitude and more like exile.
As I strode over to the windows, that same aggravation still roiling hot and heavy in my gut, my eye caught the smear of cannoli on my pants in the reflection. Chocolate, cream, and a little trail of pastry sugar.
Bree Bennett. Fuck. What a pain in the ass.
I ran a hand over my face, my head shaking as I thought about her. She was gorgeous, infuriating, and entirely naive about how the world—and hospitals—actually worked.
And yet, she’d made herself impossible to ignore. Somehow, she’d even left me feeling like she saw something I didn’t, or maybe she just refused to see the world the way I did. Either way, she was a problem.
As soon as I thought about her, she took over my entire goddamn brain with a vengeance. Especially now. After that.
Every time I blinked, I saw her crossing that conference room like she owned it, glaring at me like I’d insulted her mother.
An instant later, my train of thought derailed, and suddenly, I wasn’t just remembering.
I was imagining myself vaulting over the table, taking all that frustration and energy of hers and redirecting it.
Kissing those pouty lips and channeling all that passion into something a lot more fun than arguing.
The conference room table had plenty of space. More than enough to get creative.
Before I could fall too far down the rabbit hole, I shook my head and reined myself in, pouring a glass of scotch and swirling the liquid in my glass instead.
Maybe in another life, we wouldn’t be adversaries, arguing over paper gowns and pennies. Maybe I’d have leaned over a conference table for a fuck instead of a fight.
But not in this life. Not today.
Today, there were numbers, outcomes, and a woman who could throw a cannoli like a missile. I sipped my scotch, stared out at the city I’d made my new home, and ordered dinner for one.
Maybe in another life, she and I could’ve had a good time together. It’s just too bad it’ll never happen in this one.