Page 30 of Handsome Devil

I allowed myself a small sliver of hope even as I assisted her in walking, hoping no one noticed how lethargic and frail she was.

As soon as we reached her room, Mum collapsed onto a bed and slipped into deep slumber. The doctor left, but the nurse stayed, watching me through distrustful eyes.

I busied myself with fretting around Mum’s snoring frame.

I unpacked her suitcase, put her toiletries and clothes away, and took a tour of the facilities. I had reached the cafeteria, realizing I hadn’t eaten all day, when a stern voice behind me made me jump.

“How often do you plan on visiting her?”

I spun around. It was Dr. Stultz, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Every day.”

He nodded curtly. “Follow me, Miss Bennett. I’ll show you around.”

I did, falling into step with the middle-aged doctor in a white lab coat. The hallway was vast and full of paintings donated by philanthropists.

“I’m surprised we’ll see you so often.” The neurologist eyed me midstride. “I’d think you’d take at least a little time off, what with your close approaching nuptials.”

I stumbled over my sensible Mary Janes, flying forward and almost sailing straight across the floor. Luckily, I grabbed the wall quickly.

“H-how do you know about my engagement?”

I’d tried my best to ignore my arrangement with Tate this past week.

“Your fiancé came over to assess the amenities yesterday,” he explained. “He seemed…”

Domineering? Merciless? Deranged?

“Intense.” Dr. Stultz’s mouth ticked with a nervous smile.

I had no idea why Tate visited here—it wasn’t on our shared Google schedule—but I was certain it had nothing to do with my mother’s well-being and everything to do with ensuring his future mother-in-law would get the biggest room and the nurse with the biggest tits. He was obnoxiously materialistic.

Nonetheless, a deal was a deal. To access this facility, this program, this opportunity, I had to play the doting fiancée.

“Tate can come off as a bit officious.” I smiled cordially. “I apologize for any discomfort he may have caused. If you ever need anything, please reach ou—”

My phone vibrated in my hand.Speak of the devil.

My boss was calling, probably wanting to scream at me for filling his Stanley cup with Smartwater this morning rather than Volcanic.

Dr. Stultz glimpsed at the source of the sound, catching Tate’s name on the screen. I cleared my throat and pressed it to my ear.

“Yes, er…darling?” I cringed.

“We have a meeting with Mayfair Bank in twenty minutes, and you’re still not here.” He paused. “Did you just darling me?”

I laughed uncomfortably. He wasn’t on speaker, but I couldn’t know for sure Dr. Stultz hadn’t heard him. “Yes, of course. What else would I call you?”

“The bane of your existence,” he supplied grimly. “Gru. Satan’s favorite child. Cruello de Vil. Ernesto de la Cunt. To name a few from this month alone.”

“Are you reading my emails?” My fake smile collapsed. I had never called him these names to his face. Idid, however, let out some steam in a chain email thread with my college friends Alix and Sadie. Emails he wasn’t supposed to be privy to.

“It’s my favorite literary genre,” he replied unapologetically. “As for your speculation—no, I don’t have a small dick,deflowering virgins is not my favorite sport, and I do not strangle puppies recreationally.” There was a pause. “The part about taking that Victoria’s Secret model as a lover to rile up her husband only because he is a bad musician is true, though. To be fair, his stupid songs were played on the radio the entire year, haunting me. It was reasonable to seek revenge. I’m only human, after all.”

“This is a breach of my privacy.”

I was so cross with him I could barely breathe. Dr. Stultz’s eyebrows shot to his hairline.