Page 103 of For Her Own Good

“Doctor Lowry Campbell?”

“Yes. My hours are over for the day, though. If you’d like to make an appointment, please call my office and they can help you. I’ve got a card if you’d like. But otherwise, I’m actually on my way, so—”

He shakes his head, thin lips spreading into a grimace as if he’s offended by my suggestion that he might need the services of a psychiatrist. “I don’t need a shrink, doc. I’m actually not here about your professional life at all.”

“Given that I’ve no idea who the fuck you are, seems odd you’d be here about my personal life.”

All the muscles in my back and shoulders have gone taut, and the tension spreads up to my neck. I might need Starla to work her fingers into the nape of my neck and farther down when I get in. Depending on what sort of day she’s had, of course. She might need me more than I need her and caring for her is its own satisfaction.

“I’m a business associate of Starla Patrick’s.”

A primal sort of growl forms in my chest and what I’d like to do is rip this man’s arms off and beat him with them. Yell from the depths of my soul for him to get Starla’s name out of his mouth.

“Still not sure what you want with me.”

He grips my arm through my coat, and oh, this arsehole is asking for it. I won’t let him provoke me into action, though. That may be what he’s after and I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.

“I’m on the board of directors for Patrick Enterprises. Starla’s got some major decisions coming up and I’m not going to beat around the bush, here, Doctor Campbell. We don’t have a great deal of confidence in her.”

He must sense the rage coming to a boil under my skin because he drops his hand and holds up his palms as if to placate me. It’s going to take a lot more than that to settle my displeasure. There are very few people on this earth I have more confidence in than Starla, so already his judgment is flawed in my opinion.

Before I can tell him exactly where he can shove his ridiculous assessment of Star, he cuts in. “I mean, I think we’re all impressed with how she’s been able to manage her very serious mental health issues, and she’s certainly competent at running her little side business.”

If this man had written a script with the goal of getting me to punch him in the face, he couldn’t have done a better job. My fingers curl into my palms, and the keys I’ve got in one hand dig into my flesh. Hersidebusiness? Does this man have no idea how much time and energy Starla pours into her consulting business? How incredible she is and how many people she’s helped? The kind of sensitivity and perseverance it takes to do her job well?

If anything is a side business, it’s serving on the board of Patrick Enterprises. She doesn’t like it, I don’t think it’s healthy for her, and if this jack hole is any indication of what the rest of the board members are like, I can see why it stresses her out and why she’d like to be rid of the responsibility.

“We’re more concerned about her relationship with you, to be honest.”

What the bloody bollocks is he on about?

“With me? And it doesn’t seem right, for you to know who I am, and for me to not have the pleasure of your name.”

“Tad Harding.” He holds out a hand that I don’t take because this is not a friendly conversation. It’s not even polite. Dropping his hand, he regards me with a look that reeks of his knowledge that he’s hit a nerve. “And yes, Starla’s relationship with you. It’s awfully convenient, don’t you think, that someone who had a quite intimate relationship with Starla as a minor, who disappeared fifteen years ago, shows up right around when she’s come into being the wealthiest woman in New England? And charms his way into her bed?”

Bile churns in my stomach, and it feels as though all the blood drains from my face. I hope I’m not turning green, but it feels that way. “You think I’m taking advantage of Starla?”

The idea is sickening. I despise the idea of anyone taking advantage of her, but for it to be me? When all I’ve ever tried to do is protect her, even if I had to immolate myself to do it? I stayed away from her for far longer than I wanted to, and all to satisfy myself that I wouldn’t be taking advantage of her.

No wonder nausea is overtaking me. I wish we were closer to my car so I could put a hand on it to steady myself.

Harding shrugs. “You do have a history of marrying women who are far wealthier than you. Maeve Maxwell’s worth a pretty penny. Why wouldn’t you do the same with a girl—and let’s face it, she would’ve been a girl when you got to know her—”

Would serve this dickhead right if I punched him in the throat. But that wouldn’t help anyone. I’ve got to keep my cool. For my sake, for Starla’s. This is ridiculous.

“Yes, my ex-wife came from money, but if you’ve done as much research as you’d like me to believe you have, you know I left that marriage not much wealthier than I came into it. Maeve and I had a rock-solid prenup which I did nothing to dispute when we divorced, and should my relationship with Starla progress to that point, I’d expect the same. I’m not after her money.”

Harding shrugs as though it doesn’t matter to him either way, though he’s clearly devoted some resources to finding out this information. I’ll have to call Maeve later, see if he contacted her and apologize if so. No need for her to get dragged into this mess, especially since I’m unsure of how big of a mess it might be. At least he doesn’t seem to know anything about Starla having met with Jerome Garrett. Or perhaps he does and this is his last-ditch effort to keep that from happening?

“Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. To be quite honest, I don’t really care. If Starla wants to buy herself a daddy, what does it matter to me?”

The riot in my stomach is worse than when the Black and Whites played at home and lost. How does this tosser know anything about that?

“My point is that it’s not going to look good to the board, and I can make it look worse. I can plant seeds of doubt about her capabilities, about her intellect, her sanity. She is regularly suicidal, isn’t she?”

This man is lucky I love Starla and my job so much. If it weren’t for the prospect of losing Starla or my license, my fist would be scattering Tad’s teeth all over the pavement and sending some down his throat as well. I was never much for fisticuffs as a boy, but my brothers got into some scrapes I felt obligated to get them out of, Saint Lowry be damned.

“That’s grounds for involuntary commitment, isn’t it? Being a threat to oneself?” Tad strokes a finger across his chin, acting pensive. “Perhaps Starla isn’t in any position to be making decisions about her own person, never mind a multibillion dollar corporation…”

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