Page 65 of Careless Whisper

“You need makeup, good lingerie, heels, and a very full glass of champagne,” she insisted.

I shoved oatmeal inside my mouth and shook my head vehemently as I chewed.

“Besides…” She shot me a look, mischief dancing in her eyes. “I’ve arranged a littlespecial entertainment.”

“What does that mean?” I narrowed my eyes when she only beamed at me. “Please tell me whatever you’re doing is legal.”

“Of course it is,” she snapped haughtily. “I checked with Roy.”

I rolled my eyes. She was doing something that she needed to clear with the family lawyer—God help us all!

“Now, take a shower and…you know what, we’re going to get our hair done today.”

“Byour,you mean mine, don’t you?” I said sullenly.

“You’re such a smart girl.” She tweaked my cheeks like I was a child, and I growled for effect.

“Andwe’re going to go shopping,” she sang, already walking away, flowers in one hand, mischief in the other.

I leaned back on the dining chair and looked at the cashmere throw on my lap.

I clutched it in my free hand.

It’s time to let your security blanket go, Reggie.

I set the throw aside, sighing melodramatically like a heroine from a Victorian film.

My reprieve from regular programmingwas over—I needed to get back to my life, whatever shape it was in, and figure out my future.

CHAPTER 24

Elias

Ididn’t want to be at the damned gala.

My father had texted me no fewer than six times with increasingly pointed variations of ‘it would mean a lot to your mother if you showed up,’ which was code for putting on a suit and pretending to care about cocktails and donors so we look like a united medical dynasty.

I loathed these events, the forced smiles, the endless small talk. But I couldn’t get out of it—I knew my duty as a Graham. All the families in our social circles were the same. There wasdutyandobligationand that damned question, ‘What will people think?’

I stood at the back of the crowded ballroom, trying to stay away from the people I was supposed to mingle with—people who tossed around “philanthropy” like it was currency.

I felt like a fucking rat on a wheel—trapped at theGraham Medical Innovation Fund’s benefit in a glass-walled ballroom at the top of the Prudential Center, staring out over the Charles River, wearing a tux that didn’t feel like mine, drinking too-warm champagne, and trying not to scream.

My father stood by the donor wall, talking shop with the head of a biotech firm. My mother was circling potential funders for her latest cardiac research push. I’d already ducked out of three conversations with my mother’s friends who introduced me as “our Elias, the heart surgeon!” like I was a show dog, which I was. These were the times I wished I wasn’t an only child. Maybe if I had siblings, their focus would be diluted, perhaps someone else could betheirfucking heart surgeon.

Maren was with her parents, gleaming in a silver dress like she’d stepped out of aTown & Countryspread. She’d been circling all evening, trying to pin me down for a conversation, but I was avoiding her. She knew she was under investigation—hell, maybe I was too by now. I’d created a toxic work environment for Reggie and made it worse by not getting Maren under control when I had the chance.

She finally cornered me near the bar and smiled like we were still co-conspirators. “How’s your week been?” she asked lightly, swirling her drink. “Because mine has been a shitshow, thanks to mybossallowing the hospital to investigate me. Do you know how bad this looks, Elias?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I replied flatly.

Mrs. D had been clear with me that I was to discuss the investigation into Maren with no one, especially her. It suited me well. I didn’t want to talk about it.

“Elias?” She put a hand on my arm.

I shrugged it away.

Her smile didn’t flicker. “Oh, Elias. You’re upset. I get it. But once you think it through?—”

---