Searching for Beautiful(49)
He left.
Her knees shook. And for the first time, she was truly scared.
What was she going to do?
Her first instinct was to call Wolfe, but she battled back the urge. He’d been so sweet and supportive, sacrificing his own work schedule to babysit her. They’d been growing closer since they returned and she was tired of him consistently rescuing her. He was prepping for a business trip and didn’t need the distraction. No, she’d handle it. David was probably in a temper and would back down in a few days. He’d never follow through with his blackmail threats to HR. Right? They’d shared too many things together for such ugliness.
No need to blow it out of proportion yet. She’d dig in, focus on her work, and avoid him as much as possible. Another week and things might be completely different.
Genevieve prayed she was right.
twelve
WOLFE PUSHED AWAY from his desk and paced his lush inner sanctum. He’d learned young to follow instincts. Civility and society did a good job trying to cover up the truth of gut instinct, but he’d take the primitive anytime. It had always served him well, told him of danger, a bad deal, or the way to survive.
Now it was telling him Gen could be in trouble.
He had to work late tonight and prepare for a three-day conference he couldn’t get out of. He’d be locked up nonstop in a train of meetings focused on growing their clientele and sifting through all their investors. The time away with Gen had given him a fresh perspective on Purity, and a few things needed to change. Usually he’d pick a good business deal over a person’s character. After the episode with David, Wolfe decided he didn’t want any weak links in his chain. Odd, he’d always had a unique ability to be ruthless in the pursuit of profit. It made sense. It was cut-and-dried and clean. But lately, he decided Sawyer’s heart and soul were in the hotel empire of Purity, and it ran deeper than money. Both deserved more. Maybe it was time to clean house.
He grabbed his cell and hit her number. The hell with it. Her first week back at the hospital had been brutal. Fortunately, he’d cleared his schedule and been able to spend plenty of time in the evenings with her. Things should be a bit better this week, if he could get over this strange feeling something was going to happen. Of course, Kate and her crew would watch out for her, but he’d gotten used to being the one she depended on.
Wolfe wondered why the fact satisfied him. Maybe because he’d never been needed? Gen was the strongest woman he knew, and her faltering only made him respect her more. There weren’t too many people in the world who dug deep, tried hard, and didn’t make excuses. Everyone lately was full of whiny crap. Poor me with my dead mother or alcoholic father or crappy sibling. Poor me for not getting a job and not having money and getting bullied. Poor me period.
He had no patience for the climate lately. It was much easier to blame your junk and issues on someone else. Gen owned it and wanted to do the work.
He got connected to her voice mail. “Hey, it’s Wolfe. Call me when you get a minute.” He clicked off.
When was the last time he worried about a female other than family? The only thing he ever worried about was if she orgasmed fast enough so he could get home. He didn’t mean to be cold or cruel, it was just how he was built. He had stopped trying to be someone else a long time ago.
The voice taunted. Then why do you want to be more for her?
Shut up.
The voice grew quiet.
He didn’t trust David. This was bigger than wanting Gen back—this was about retribution for trying to leave and humiliating him. He knew how abusers worked, and how easily it could escalate behind closed doors. Better be safe than sorry. Another clichéd motto he believed in.
After this conference, he’d keep a close eye on things. For now, he needed to focus. Gen could take care of herself. They were friends, not lovers. No reason to blur the lines and make things complicated.
Complicated for who? Her? Or you?
This time he didn’t snap at the inner voice. Just got back to work.
GENEVIEVE WEAVED HER WAY through the chaos of the ER and headed toward the next patient. ER rotation was sometimes a bitch, and today was one of the worst. They were short beds and staff, and since she’d gotten back there’d been no time to pause.
The whole thing was a nightmare, but she figured she would hunker down like it was the Alamo and battle through.
Gen pulled the curtain back and read the chart for bed three. Susan Avery. Age forty-two. Symptoms of abdominal pains. No allergies. She smiled and met the gaze of a pretty blonde with big brown eyes and a thin face. “Hi, Susan, my name is Genevieve. Are we having some stomach issues today?”