Page 124 of Ten Day Affair

If this story keeps building, if Harrelson digs deeper, Sam’s name won’t stay out of it. Not with our connection.Not with her legacy at that hospital. If it breaks the way I think it might, it won't just sting. It’ll wreck her.

"If they name her, she gets shredded. She didn’t sign up for this fallout."

Dorian’s jaw ticks. "The doctor? I thought you said that was nothing?"

I glare at him. "She’s not just a doctor. She's a human being with a life."

"Okay." He holds up a hand.

I rub my jaw as I pace, trying to come up with a plan.

"I get that she matters. But Cole, this isn’t on you. Reporters speculate all the time?—"

"It’s not just speculation. If she writes that we slept together, that I had influence, and then ties it back to Houston and the board, she looks like she was involved somehow. It doesn't matter, she can't be named in any of this.”

"You think she can’t handle bad press?"

"This isn’t a Page Six blurb. She’s a surgeon. She’s in the middle of a residency. This story makes it look like she slept her way onto the board’s radar. That’ll follow her longer than it’ll follow me."

Dorian runs a hand through his hair, muttering, “Jesus, man. You’re this close to blowing up your own strategy for a woman that you knew for less than two weeks, and you haven't seen or talked to since?”

"You're such a dick."

"Then work through this with the lawyer. Come up with a legitimate plan. Don’t go rogue."

"I need to talk to Harrelson."

He stares at me. "Cole. No. You can't call her, it signals there’s blood in the water. You’ll be confirming the entire narrative."

"I'm not calling her."

His brow furrows. "Then what?"

"I'm flying to Palm Beach."

Dorian blinks. "You’re joking."

"I’m not. I need to look her in the eye. I need to understand how bad it is, and what it’ll take to stop it."

He crosses his arms, silent for a long beat. “You know this isn’t about damage control anymore.”

“No. It’s about owning the damage.”

Later that afternoon,I pull my cap lower as I walk into Café Luna with my shoulders hunched like I’m any other guy grabbing coffee. The tables outside are packed with tourists snapping photos of their lattes. Inside, it’s quieter, tucked away, private, even.

I didn’t pick Citrine even though Laurel suggested it. Of course she did. I couldn’t stomach the chance of seeing Sam walk in. Not her. Not now. Not here. Not when I still don’t know how much she knows.

I chose a corner table facing the door. My hands shake slightly as I check my phone, even though I told Angela to handle everything that comes in.

Laurel Harrelson walks in with the kind of poise that pisses me off for no good reason. Not because she’s confident, but because she has every reason to be. She already got to me once in New York. Now I’m here, on her turf, and we both know what that means.

Her dark blazer’s sharp enough to draw blood, and her heels click like punctuation as she weaves through the tables. She spots me in seconds and offers a smile that’s more curiosity than kindness.

“Twice in one week,” she says as she pulls out the chair across from me. “I’m flattered.”

I don’t return the smile. “You said the story was moving forward, but you didn't give me any indication it was coming out. You said I had until the end of the week to get you my answers.”

She sets her phone on the table, face down, and smiles. “Everything you tell me is on the record unless otherwise specified.”