Page 21 of Don't Lie To Me

Waiting for him to enlighten me, I shoot him a piercing glare, but he just takes off the cuff and places it back in his bag. “Show me where you hit your head.”

I lift my hair so he can take a better look at the side of my head.

He feels around. “Are you still feeling lightheaded?”

“Not right now.”

“That’s good.” He pulls out a little flashlight. “Can you look at the light for me? I just want to check a couple more things.”

I nod, and he instructs me on where to look, flashing the bright light into my eyes.

“Are you on any prescription medication at the moment?”

“Nope,” I say a little too quickly.

Ricky looks me over. “Are you taking medication that wasn’t prescribed to you?” he asks a little more slyly.

I sigh heavily. Lying to a doctor is probably bad karma or something, but I don’t want him talking shit about me to my brothers. “Can you swear whatever I tell you will stay between us? You can’t even tell Harley.”

“Doctor-patient privilege, your secrets are safe with me.”

I stand up and walk over to my desk drawer, retrieving the bottle of Xanax one of my staff had stolen for me, and hand it to him.

He scans the bottle, his face growing more concerned as he reads. “How many of these are you taking, Sloane?”

I twirl a long strand of hair through my fingers, trying not to meet his piercing gaze. From the tone of his voice alone I know he’s not happy with me. “Just the odd one when I’m feeling extra stressed.”

Rising to his feet, he moves until he stands directly in front of me so I can’t look away from him this time, his eyes intense. “How many did you take this morning?” he demands.

I glare back, the unspoken truth hanging in the air.

“How many, Sloane?” He raises his voice to a scary tone I haven’t heard from Ricky before.

“I had a stressful morning, alright? I took a couple,” I admit, knowing I sound stupid, but he doesn’t know the shit I have to deal with on the daily.

He looks unimpressed, a slight frown furrowing his brow. He rummages through his bag before pulling out a crumpled prescription form. “This is the wrong dose for you. Especially if you take two or more at a time. You have low blood pressure, and that could be caused by the medication, but I would like to monitor you for the next few weeks just to see. In the meantime, go and get this filled. It’s the correct dose for you to start on. We can up it if you really need to, but let’s start you off and see how you’re feeling.” He takes the other bottle and places it in his bag.

I glance over the prescription for Lexapro, wishing it was that easy. “Ricky,” I call him back.

He turns back to me, his eyes narrowed in thought.

“Thanks, but I can’t go get that filled.”

“Why?”

“My life is so public; I do anything, the whole fucking world knows about it. My bodyguard, my brothers, you get it, right? I can’t be the crazy bitch who has to be medicated. It’s a fucking sign of weakness to them.”

He stares back at me, and I can see him thinking it over. He knows I’m right. “I’ll get it sorted for you.”

“Thank you.” I offer him a half smile, really appreciating his help with this.

“You’re lucky I owe you a favor for looking after Harley when she needed it.” He smirks, and it makes it all the way to his boyish dimples. We both know he would have done it for me either way. He’s one of the good Morettis.

“Ricky, can I ask you something?” I nibble my lip, wondering if this is a terrible idea or not, but I have to know what I’m up against, and he’s his cousin, so he must know something about him.

“Anything.”

“What is the go with Romeo?”

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