Page 64 of Living on the Edge

It’s nothing serious, but I let it get out of control.

“You should have come in sooner,” he says patiently. “But we’ll take care of this. We’ll get you set up with two IV’s—one with fluids and the other with a strong antibiotic. Then we’ll send you home with a ten-day course that should fix you right up.” He pats my shoulder in a paternal way and leaves the room.

“I’ll pay you back,” I tell Angus. “Whatever it costs.”

“Stop it.” He shakes his head. “I’ve already given them my payment information. You just focus on getting better. Technically, your magazine should be covering this, but don’t worry about the money.”

Ihaveto worry about the money.

I don’t like owing anyone.

Especially not him.

He’s been extremely kind tonight, but that doesn’t make up for the way he behaved. I already like him a little too much, so I don’t need to fall under his spell a second time—he showed his true colors that night.

I just don’t have the energy to argue about it.

After I’ve had forty-eight hours to get my feet back under me, I’ll tell him what I think of him.

In the meantime, I can’t keep my eyes open.

* * *

When I wakeup the following morning, I’m in my bed at the hotel—and Angus is fast asleep beside me. We’re both mostly dressed, me in my T-shirt and panties and him in shorts. But it’s jarring to see him sleeping next to me.

Memories of our sexual encounter come rushing back, and I close my eyes again, willing them to go away.

No matter how badly he treated me, it was the best sex of my life.

Between the champagne, the vibrator, and his massive penis, I was well-sated. If I hadn’t been so hurt by the way he left things, I probably would have been begging for more.

That would have been a mistake, though, so maybe it’s better.

Maybe he did it on purpose for that very reason.

Because he’snota bad guy.

Distant, arrogant, and not the politest guy I’ve ever met, but by taking me to the hospital last night, he proved he has a soul. That he cares, even if it’s only superficially. Considering the family that raised him, his behavior makes sense.

The Hollingsworth family isn’t known for beingnice.

At least he’s trying.

I quietly slide out of bed and make my way into the bathroom. I have to pee and freshen up. I don’t even remember getting back to the room last night, but I already feel better.

The antibiotics must be working and now that I’m not dehydrated anymore, I’m actually hungry. I don’t know if I’m ready to go downstairs to the restaurant, but since Angus took care of the emergency room bill, I can splurge on room service.

When I walk back into the room, Angus is awake and sits up.

“You look better,” he says.

“I feel better,” I admit. “Like night and day. Thank you for taking me to the hospital.”

He nods. “Someone had to. I wish you’d told us you felt that bad.”

I get back into bed, but I’m propped up on pillows now, instead of nestled in the blankets like I’ve been the last two days.

“It’s embarrassing to admit you don’t have health insurance,” I say.

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