and spit on me. Or worse. I didn’t want to be here. I couldn’t be here. Before I could beg to be taken back down to the lobby, the bodyguard ushered me forward.
Shit. But I didn’t fight him. I was resigned to my choice. Because as much as I didn’t want to ever interact with Isabella, I needed her to throw a hissy fit and throw me out of her apartment. And that involved finding her. I glanced into the living room we were passing. It didn’t look like anyone lived there. There wasn’t even a snuggly blanket on the untouched couch. Yet, I knew she was here. I could feel her presence. She was the reason why a chill had just run down my spine. She was the reason why I kept glancing over my shoulder. “Where’s Isabella?” I asked.
The bodyguard ignored me as he steered me past the kitchen and down a hall.
Everything was white and pristine and…impersonal. There wasn’t a single picture of Mr. or Mrs. Pruitt or Isabella on any of the walls. Maybe he hates Isabella as much as I do.
We stopped outside a bedroom. There was a man in a white lab coat in the room. He turned toward me. “You must be Brooklyn Pruitt,” he said. “I’m Dr. Wilson. If you could please take a seat.” He gestured toward the edge of the bed he was standing beside.
There was a lot wrong with this situation. But one thing stuck out the most. “Sanders,” I said.
The doctor raised his eyebrows.
“My last name is Sanders, not Pruitt.”
“Ah.” He made a note on the file he was holding. “This won’t take very long, Brooklyn. I just need to run a few tests.” He set down the file and lifted a needle.
There was no way I was entering that room and sitting on a bed while a stranger either gave me a shot or took my blood. “No, that’s okay. Actually this is all a big misunderstanding. I don’t want anything from Mr. Pruitt.”
Dr. Wilson cocked his head to the side. “You don’t want to know if he’s your father?”
I hesitated. I was pretty sure he saw it too. But then I shook my head. “No.” I took a step back and ran straight into the bodyguard.
He looked down at me with a hard gaze.
What was my plan here? Run past him to the elevators? There was no way I’d be able to escape this buffalo of a man. And even though the bodyguard didn’t say a word, I had a pretty good idea that his hard stare involved some kind of threat. I didn’t want to find out what it was.
Honestly, I hadn’t been to the doctor in ages. My mother didn’t have insurance. I couldn’t remember when my last checkup was. Maybe in middle school. What could it hurt to let Dr. Wilson run a few tests? My mother died too young from heart disease. My uncle too young from lung cancer. Wasn’t it better if I knew I was healthy?
I looked up at the bodyguard like he could read my thoughts. But I’d only known him a few minutes longer than I’d known this doctor with a needle. It wasn’t like I had a lot of options on who to trust.
The only encouragement he gave me was a nod of his head toward the doctor.
I pressed my lips together and turned around.
The doctor smiled. “Really. It’ll only take a few minutes.”
I slowly nodded my head. “I don’t mind making an appointment and coming in at a more convenient time,” I said. I was stalling, even though I couldn’t think of a single way out of this.
“I’m a family doctor. Your father pays me good money to be on call. Trust me, I don’t mind.” He chuckled and the sound made me feel a little more at ease. “When was your last period?” he asked and looked back down at his file.
Okay, not at ease anymore. Who just randomly asked such a personal question with zero segue? I could feel my cheeks turning red and I looked over my shoulder at the bodyguard. He didn’t make eye contact, but he also didn’t move. Apparently he was going to be here for this too.
I swallowed hard. “A few weeks ago.”
“It started or ended a few weeks ago?”
“Started.” What kind of doctor’s visit was this?
“Wonderful.” He wrote it down while still balancing the needle precariously in his other hand. “Come in, come in, don’t be shy.”
My feet