but to my surprise, I didn’t expect Brad to feel it the way we did.
Chapter Twenty-Three
BRANDON
This evening has messed with my head. What I need is to get the normal back into my life. Dinner with Jessica. Sex. But that’s out of the question given that we haven’t even been to first base.
I’m losing my edge. In my desire to acquire, I’m messing up on an industrial scale.
Pursuing Jessica.
Pursuing Greenways.
The way I’m feeling, I’m not sure I’m going to walk away with either of those things.
By the time I leave, I am so bone-tired, all I can think of is dropping into my bed. I leave my dead phone to charge up in the living room and then I crash onto my bed. I don’t even care that I haven’t showered or gotten out of these dirty clothes.
It’s only when I check my phone the next morning that I see a heap of messages, many from the managers working for me. And then, just as I’m about to dial my voicemail, I see a text that turns my lungs to stone.
Emma was involved in a car accident last night, driving to meet a friend. She’s in a critical condition in the hospital.
Emma. My PA.
My friend. My conscience.
The woman who keeps me on the straight and narrow.
Fuck.
How can this be?
Shock propels me into action, and I call up one of the managers to find out where she is.
I rush over to the hospital. Guilt—a familiar emotion that fits me like a second skin—mingles with fear and worry. This woman is my conscience. She tries to keep me from being a complete jerk. She’s my right hand, and my left. She’s the best PA anyone could have, and I don’t know how I’m going to get shit done without her.
They won’t let me in to see her because I’m not family. I see an elderly couple crying as they come out of the room I’ve been told she is in. I assume they are her parents. I don’t want to bother them, but I need to know, and no one is giving me answers.
I can see her through the window. Her eyes are closed and tubes are going into her.
Is she sleeping or in a coma?
I put my hand on the door, I’m about to stride into the room.
“Excuse me, sir. Are you part of the family?”
“I’m her boss.”
“Only family are allowed to see her, sir.”
“I need to know how she is.” I twist the door handle, poised to walk in.
The nurse looks annoyed. “Sir—Don’t make me call security.”
Fury swirls from the depths of my belly. “My family has paid for a wing in this goddamn hospital. The Philip Hawks wing? It’s named after my father, so don’t you tell me I can’t—”
“Is there a problem?” A doctor intervenes. The nurse whispers something into his ear. When he looks at me, I can tell he’s trying to gauge if I’m lying or not. I pull out my business card. It’s a shitty, fickle thing to do, but money and power can open doors and get you access and information.
“My company, and if you look up my father, you’ll find he paid for that wing in this place.” The doctor assesses me for one uncomfortable second before opening the door.
I suck in a horrified breath. It almost sounds like I’ve choked. Emma’s eyes are closed and she looks peaceful. At least that’s something. I clutch onto that line of hope like it’s my safety net.
“Is she in pain?”
“No.”
He tells me she has a ruptured spleen, a collapsed lung, a fractured pelvis and head trauma which they are trying to assess the extent of.
Fuck.
“She’s lucky to be alive,” he informs me.
“What happened?”
The doctor tells me that Emma was involved in a collision with another vehicle. When he tells me where it happened, my body sags with the weight of guilt. She was around the block from Hawks Enterprises.
It happened near my office. Whether she was going there or leaving from there is irrelevant. She was only there because I had asked her to do something for me.
This is my fault.
Seeing her lifeless and silent, I wonder how I’ll get through the coming weeks.
Me.
A selfish good-for-nothing piece of shit.
How is it that in this moment, it’s me I think of?
Because that’s all I’ve ever done.
“You need to leave now, sir.”
“She’s going to be all right, isn’t she?”
“She can make a full recovery. It’s going to take months before she’s back to normal, and of course,