Gabriella stared at him as he walked away. A sinking feeling settled into the pit of her stomach at his words, bile rising in her throat that she desperately swallowed back. He wasn't the first one to tell her something like that, but Gabriella struggled to fathom it. Dante was passionate, and maybe he could be dangerous, but she'd never seen a malicious side to him.
Her gaze flickered to the apartment above, part of her wanting to go back inside, to go up there and see him, but she was due at work in minutes.
She'd never been late for work before.
Despite rushing, Gabriella walked into the hospital a quarter after seven, a solid fifteen minutes after she was scheduled. As soon as she stepped out onto the ICU, apologies spilled out of her, but they fell upon deaf ears. Dr. Crabtree met her at the elevator, along with the charge nurse, Monica Burns.
"We'd like to have a word with you, Nurse Russo," Monica said, "if you don't mind."
Her brow furrowed. "If this is about me being late, I really am sorry. Really. I had this situation and I missed my connection and had to wait."
"This isn't about that," she said, "although, as you know, there are no excuses for tardiness."
"I know," she muttered. "Can I ask what this is about? Is there a problem or something?"
"Follow me, please."
Her refusal to answer that question sent red flags flying, but Gabriella had no choice but to follow the woman. They went to a small conference room on the floor, usually utilized for brief meetings about a patient's care. Monica and Crabtree sat down on one side of the long wooden table. Gabriella's anxiety flared as she slipped into the chair across from them. "Am I in trouble?"
Instead of answering, Monica pulled out a crisp white envelope, sliding it across the table. Gabriella picked it up. The return address in the corner said it came from the hospital, straight from the Chief Nursing Officer, the sight making her stomach churn. She wanted to ask what it was, why they were giving it to her, but questions were pointless. If they wanted to answer any of that, they already would've.
So carefully, she slid her finger beneath the loose flap and reached inside, pulling out the piece of paper. Unfolding it, her eyes glossed across the text of the letter, slamming right into a stream of words that made her stop short.
Improper relationship with a patient.
"I can't believe this," she whispered, her voice struck with a small tremor. Anonymous complaints that she'd used her position to prey upon an emotionally vulnerable patient.
"I'm sure I don't have to tell you how serious these allegations are," Monica said. "You'll, of course, be able to defend yourself when you meet with the CNO and clear up what I'm certain is just a misunderstanding, but you've been taken off the schedule until then as a precaution."
"But my patients…"
"We were able to pull others in to cover your shifts," she explained. "Your patients have been reassigned."
Dumbfounded couldn't begin to describe Gabriella. She scanned the letter again, like maybe the words would change, but no, there it was in ink, her fate sealed, officially calling that gray area a big black strike. "So that's it?"
"For now," Monica said, standing up. “You’ll be back to work just as soon as it gets cleared up."
The woman walked out, and Crabtree lingered for a moment before standing up. "You should've known better, Nurse Russo. Maybe you do need that Ph.D. to spot an ethical issue."
He walked out, leaving her with those words.
She was screwed.
After shoving the letter back into the envelope, she made the trek back to her apartment. Snow came down harder, the hidden sun moving on as night set in. By the time she stepped into the building, her toes were frozen and her nose ran, chills covering every inch of her as she shivered.
She unlocked the door and stepped into the apartment, silence greeting her. "Dante?"
No answer.
He wouldn't expect her back for twelve hours, so there was no telling where he might've gone or what he might've been off doing. After locking the door again, attaching the chain lock, she dropped the letter on the living room coffee table before stripping out of her cold, damp scrubs, discarding them wherever as she headed into the bathroom. While drawing herself a warm bubble bath, she fired off a quick text message to Dante's new number. Back