Page 108 of Filthy Elites

She shakes her head as she turns my arm over and begins the process of extracting the IV. “That man has been all out of sorts since he brought you in last night.”

“He has?” I can’t imagine it. Mitchell Vikson taking care of someone? But then … he had been here when I woke up. Even if he’s not my favorite person in the world, it’s better to wake up tosomeonein the room rather than be all alone. Even I have to admit, it was kind of him. I shake my head, warding off the confusing thoughts entering my head. “It’s … I work for him,” I tell the woman in front of me.

The corners of her lips remain up. “Interesting way to form a relationship,” she comments, “but not the worst I’ve ever seen.”

“We’re not—”

“Honey,” she stops me as she pulls the IV free and sets it to the side, putting a plain bandaid over the small hole in my arm after pressing down on it with a cotton ball for a few seconds. “That man is head over heels in love with you.”

I shake my head. “No, he can’t be.”

“I’ve been here all night,” she informs me. “I was there when he walked through the ER doors and demanded someone take care of you right then and there. He didn’t leave you for even a second.”

But that doesn’t make sense. There’s no way he showed up to the club in those clothes last night. “He had to have left to at least go get changed or—”

She pats my arm gently. “He had some scary looking man stop by with a bag for him,” she tells me. “He hasn’t slept all night. Probably why he’s so cranky and scared the crapola out of Dr. Juergen.”

He really hadn’t left? Not once? I sit there, trying to absorb the information this woman has unknowingly given me. Maybe she thinks she’s trying to convince me that he cares, but what she’s really done is something completely unlikely—because for the first time since I met Mitchell Vikson, there’s something other than obligatory respect and lust in my system. Do I actually … like him?

“Alrighty, then,” the nurse says, jerking me out of my reverie as she begins to pack up her supplies, “you’re all ready to go.”

“Can I ask you a random question?” The woman tilts her head and I take that as a positive sign. “Was there … I mean…” How the fuck do I ask? I bite my lip, harder than necessary as anxiety assails me. “I’m not sore, um…” I gesture towards my legs—or rather, the place between them. Understanding dawns on her face.

“Oh, honey,” she says, “we were assured that there was no need to check last night. We can if you would like to be sure.”

“Who told you that you didn’t need to?”

Her eyes slide to the door. She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t need to. I get her meaning. Viks must have told them not to. Relief pours through me.

“What about my clothes?” I ask, changing the subject.

She frowns. “You didn’t come in with much, but check the drawer in the bedside table. If there’s nothing there, have your man friend grab you something.”

I nod and thank the woman and as soon as she’s out of the room, I stand up and round the bed towards the bedside table. I pull open the top drawer and find not my clothes from the night before, but new ones with the tags still on them. From what she said about Viks having someone bring him clothes the night before, I suspect he had them bring these too.

I waste no more time as I pull out the clothes—a soft cotton t-shirt and a pair of leggings, all in black. Whoever grabbed the clothes didn’t think to grab any underwear or bra, though, but that’s okay. As long as I’m covered, I don’t care. I don’t really want to stay in the hospital any longer than necessary and certainly not to wait for some unknown man to grab me a pair of underwear and a new bra.

My muscles creak and scream with soreness and protest as I start to dress. Bruises dot my upper arms and when I look in the bathroom mirror, I realize they’re not the only ones. My neck is one massive blotch of dark purple. It’s hard to look at because it only makes me remember the feeling of being pinned down and helpless. I close my eyes and turn away, hurrying to finish up.

Once I’m done, I head out into the room and move towards the door, pulling it open and glancing out into the hall. Viks kept his word. He’s still there, and when I open the door, he looks up from the nurse’s station a few feet away.

“Ready to go?”

Sucking in a breath, I nod and then pause, looking down. “Actually, do you have any shoes?” I ask.

He frowns when he looks down at my feet. “Shit, no. I don’t know where the ones you had on last night went either.”

“She’ll need to be taken out in a wheelchair anyway,” the nurse behind the station informs us as I step towards them with my bare feet.

"Do I really have to?” I ask with a grimace. “I can walk just fine.”

She gives me an apologetic look. “Sorry, it’s hospital policy.”

“Wait here,” Viks orders as he heads around the nurse’s station. He disappears into a side hallway coming back only a moment later with said wheelchair in tow.

“Viks…”

“You fucking heard her, Hales,” he snaps. “Get your ass in the chair before I tie you to it.”

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