I was startled and cleared my throat. “Really?”
He looked back. “Of course. It was pretty simple though.”
“Right, yeah. I’ve done that a hundred times.”
He gave me a small smile. I finished cleaning up and we walked out into the hall together. He conferred with a nurse for a moment, then nodded at me, and we continued on toward the elevators.
“I’m going to let you take on more responsibility,” he said.
“Really? I mean, that’s great.”
He gave me a look. “Slowly at first. I know you’ve gone through all this already, but I want to make sure you know what you’re doing before you ever get within an inch of anything vital.”
“Right, of course.”
The elevators opened. We stepped inside. “You’ll stand in with me on every procedure. If I’m working, you’re working. Understood?”
“I can do that.”
“Good. You’ll also do my laundry.”
I grimaced. “Come on. That’s hazing.”
“I don’t care.” He frowned at me. “I’m going to train you, Lori. I’m not going to be your friend.”
“And yet you want me to help you clear your name.”
“I want you to tell the truth.”
“Of course.” I tilted my head. “Did I do well today, or did you say that just because you want me to like you?”
He stared at me for a second and I couldn’t read his expression—then without warning, he reached out and slammed the emergency stop button.
I stared wild-eyed ad the elevator ground to a halt between floors. The alarms blared and a voice rang out through a little intercom.
Piers ignored it as he turned to me. I took a step back, running up against the wall, heart racing even faster than it had down in the OR.
I couldn’t believe he’d just stopped the elevator. I thought that was the sort of thing people did in movies, not in real life.
“Listen to me, and listen close,” he said, leaning down over me. We were inches apart, his full lips pulled back slightly, eyebrows knitted. “I’m not going to bullshit you, Lori. If you’re bad at something, I will tell you, and you will work until you’re better. If you’re good, I’ll tell you, and you’ll still work.” He put one hand over my shoulder, leaning against the wall behind me.
I felt trapped as my cheeks flushed with blood.
“I believe you.”
“I’m not going to lie for my own vanity, and I’m not going to ask that of you, either. But I want you to give me a chance. I understand I’m not the most liked man in the world, but I am the best at what I do.”
“I know that.”
“Then give me the respect to believe me when I say you did a good job.”
I tilted my chin toward him, moving my lips ever closer to his. I didn’t know what I was doing—this was my boss, a total asshole, but he was so handsome, and we were alone in this elevator, inches apart, the alarm ringing, the lights dim, his body close. Maybe it was the residual excitement of the surgery, or maybe I was just a total freaking crazy person, but the way he looked at me—I thought maybe he had the same idea as me.
“I’ll respect you,” I whispered.
“Good girl.” He reached up and his hand hovered there between us, close to my cheek, and I wondered if he would touch me and break through the unspoken barrier that kept us apart. Ethics said we shouldn’t, and I knew that ethics were right in this case. I should keep my distance from him, try to stay objective, let him teach me what I needed to know—but still try to decide if he was a reckless bastard, or simply one of the best surgeons in the world.
But his hand dropped without touching me and he pulled away.
He snapped at the intercom then hit the emergency button again. The alarm stopped and the elevator began to move again. It reached the next floor and he got out, moving past a group of harried-looking janitorial staff, and one very bewildered administrator. He stormed away, ignoring their questions, and left me to deal with his mess.
I had a feeling that was going to happen a lot.
And for some reason, I didn’t mind. At least not in this instance.
For a moment there in that elevator, I thought I saw past his anger, to someone deeper inside—someone that wanted recognition, but also wanted an equal, a peer to be with him, to push him to be a better man.
I didn’t know if that was me, but I thought I might try.
8
Piers
Caroline Pincher’s office was on the top floor, tucked in the back of the administration wing. Her secretary gave me a foul look as I sat in a small waiting room chair, legs crossed, staring up at the ceiling, annoyed as all hell that she was wasting my time like this.
“Piers.” Caroline stood in her office door and beckoned me. She was an older woman, in her mid-fifties, with fake blonde hair and a big smile. She wore sensible dark clothes and always seemed to jingle when she walked from all the bracelets she wore crammed on her thin wrists.
“What can I do for you, Caroline?”
She walked around her desk and sat. The room was the epitome of corporate power: large windows, leather-bound books on the shelves, papers and binders neatly arranged, a couple of green plants hanging in the light. She tilted her head and smiled, steepling her fingers.
“Gina told me you two spoke.”
“Did she?” I raised an eyebrow, unable to hide my surprise.
“Of course. Gina felt that your conversation warranted some attention.” Caroline continued to give me that bland, ruthless smile.
“And what kind of attention are you going to lavish on me, Caroline?”
Her smile didn’t falter. I knew it wouldn’t, no matter how surly I got. She was a consummate professional, I had to admit.
“I understand you’re having an issue with a private investigator.”
“Tippett hired him,” I said. “He’s been stalking me all over the campus.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“But you’re not going
