The Doctor Who Has No Ambition (Soulless Book 9) - Victoria Quinn Page 0,42

business hours. That way, you know, we could have a life.

Mom walked with me and stopped at the elevator. “Want to come up for dinner?”

“Mom…” I shook my head. “You know you have to tell me what’s on the menu before you ask.”

She was a naturally warm person who showed off her smile all day long, but when she interacted with me or one my siblings, she had this special look in her eyes, like she was smiling with just her stare. “Tacos.”

“Like…cauliflower tacos? Jackfruit tacos? Or real tacos?”

“Turkey tacos.”

I considered it before I gave a nod. “I accept your invitation.” Dad and I hadn’t really talked since that ambush a week ago, but we were family, so the awkwardness would go away after a couple minutes.

“Great.” We got into the elevator and rose to their floor. In the same heels she wore all day, every day, she continued to glide.

“Not to be a snitch, but Sicily isn’t a fan of the heels.”

She smiled. “She’ll get used to them. They also have shorter heels too, if these are too much for her.”

“I have a feeling she’s too stubborn for that.”

“Exactly why I like her.” She approached the condo and walked right in because the door was unlocked.

But I could tell I’d walked into another ambush.

Because Dad wasn’t cooking in the kitchen. The house didn’t smell like dinnertime. And there was some random lady sitting on the couch talking to my dad. My dad was the most loyal man ever, so I never jumped to conclusions like that.

Dad turned his head to look at me before he rose to his feet.

I turned to Mom. “I expect this from him, but not you.”

With a guilty look in her eyes, she placed her hand on my arm and gave me a motherly squeeze. “I know. That’s why I hope you’ll keep an open mind—for me.”

“An open mind for what?”

Dad got my attention. “Son.” He gave a nod for me to join him in the seating area.

I walked forward and saw the woman on the couch looking at me like an owl in the dark, her eyes open and wide, staring at me like she couldn’t believe what she was looking at it. It was hard to tell how old she was, but she looked to be somewhere in her forties or fifties.

Dad gestured to the armchair across from the woman. “Take a seat.”

I lowered myself and released a loud sigh even though it was disrespectful. “Is this an intervention or…?” I had no idea who this woman was. Maybe she was a heart surgeon who wanted to talk me back into work? When I’d decided to retire, my colleagues were understanding for the most part. They understood how difficult the job was, and sometimes things just got to you.

She took a few deep breaths before she finally spoke. “I’m Angelica Torres…”

My eyes narrowed on her face, remembering the email I’d received a week ago, her desperate plea for help. Now I had a face to the words, a face that matched the tone of her desperation. I had a photographic memory, so I could pull up her email in my head like it was on a computer screen.

Then I turned to look at my father, flashing him a fiery look of accusation. “You crossed a line.”

He rubbed his knuckles slightly as he stared at me, his dark eyes expressing nothing.

“I’m a grown-ass man.” I couldn’t keep the venom back, not this time. “You don’t get to pull this shit—”

“I came to him.” Angelica’s weak voice slashed through my rage. “I’m so sorry to cause tension between the two of you. That was not my intention.”

I turned back to look at her.

“I went to his office and begged him to help me. He said there was nothing he could do, but I kept pleading and pleading…until he arranged this.” Her eyes started to shine with moisture, the tears pending. “I love my husband so much, and I can’t give up. You’re the only one who can help him, Dr. Hamilton—”

“Dex.” I shouldn’t cut her off, but I wasn’t in the right frame of mind right now. “My name is Dex.” I’d left my title behind over a year ago, and I didn’t miss it. It wasn’t my identity anymore.

She nodded slightly. “Of course, I apologize.”

Even though Dad had been pressured into this, I was still pissed off that he’d allowed this to happen. If someone asked me for a connection to my father, I