Page 4 of The Confidentiality Clause
“Maybe she should move back here, or tell your parents, or both.” I stiffen at the thought. “You’retwenty-four, Brock. If you’re struggling with this, it has to do with the lifestyle you’re living. Sutton is nonstop talking about how worried she is about you. Shaw, too. Why haven’t you told anyone?”
I hate the concern in her gaze. It’s exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid with all my friends and family.
“Because I’m fine. I don’t want anyone to worry unnecessarily.”
She shakes her head. “What did the doctor say? How did you find out this was a problem?”
I grit my teeth and turn to face the windows behind my desk. Downtown Charlotte is laid before me. I used to feel as though I was a king surveying my kingdom. Now I feel like a bee in a hive, always working, never resting.
“I had a…scare,” I say after a moment of silence. “I went to the hospital for it a few months ago, and they told me I had high blood pressure. It’s not severe, but enough to warrant medication.”
“And what did they say about your lifestyle?”
I clench my fists at her accusing tone.
“Nothing. They gave me a prescription and said to come back if it gets worse,” I lie.
In reality, they referred me to atherapist, of all people. They said I should sleep more, work less. Take deep breaths and a bunch of other unhelpful and unrealistic nonsense. I’ve been taking the prescription, but I have no plans on carving an hour out of my week for some shrink to ask me how I’m feeling. I know I’m tired and overworked, but a therapist can’t change that for me. Besides, I’ll be able to slow down soon enough.
“You’re not a very good liar, Carolina,” Ariel says softly. “I’m sorry, but I have to tell Sutton. Your health isn’t something to mess around with.”
I turn back around, trying to keep my breathing level. If Sutton finds out…my whole life will be upended. She’ll come to North Carolina with Shaw and whoever else she can drag out here. They’ll force me to stop working, and everything I’ve worked so hard to build will collapse. The very thought has my chest tightening.
Ariel’s expression is soft. She doesn’t ever look at me this way. I’d rather she insult me than pity me.
“Is there any way I can convince you not to tell her?” I’d offer money if I thought it would help. She’s a hyper-successful realtor, though, so she’s not hurting for cash. Even if she was, she’s too loyal to Sutton to take it.
Ariel looks down at the pill bottle on the desk. Something in her countenance tells me she’s at war with herself. I wait with a knotted stomach to hear what she has to say.
“I could hold off,” she starts. I draw in a breath of anticipation. “If you agree to let me help you.”
My brow furrows. “Help me? What do you mean?”
“You need to relax more and treat yourself better. If you let me organize a few activities that will help you with that, I’ll keep quiet. But–” she gives me a hard look. “If you don’t participate or you get worse, I’m making the call.”
“Why?” I ask the one question bouncing around in my brain.
She sighs. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened and I knew but Sutton didn’t. But if I’m helping you in the way she would–just a little less invasive–then I can sleep at night.”
I suck in a breath and let it out in a whoosh. “What kind of activities are we talking about? And how often? I can’t miss work.”
She places her hands on her hips. The movement emphasizes the natural curve of her waist. I tear my gaze away from her figure and focus on the annoyance radiating from her gaze.
“No more details. I promise I won’t be too disruptive, but that’s all I’m telling you. No negotiations. Final offer.”
“That’s not how contracts work,” I say with a wry smile.
“Good thing this isn’t a contract, then. It’s an oath. You have my word, and I have yours.”
I push my hands into my hair and tug on the strands. It’s either let Ariel pester me on occasion and hope she gives up, or have Sutton uproot her life and mine in the name of healing me.
“Fine, you’ve got a deal.”
She sticks her hand out, a cheeky grin on her face. I give her a flat look, but slide my palm over hers and shake her hand. The touch is brief, but there’s something weighted about it that makes me wonder how much I’m giving up.
I might have just made the worst deal in the history of my career.
Chapter three
