Page 32 of Consequences
“We won’t keep you in suspense,” Cris says—thank fuck. “Il Padrone has worked with our artist friend to create a visual ofthe man who patched me up. Like Il Padrone, I vaguely feel as if I should know his face, but I can’t place him.”
That is a surprise. Cristian, amongst his many other irritating talents, is very good with remembering faces and placing them. “So, we’re hoping you’ll recognize him as part of the larger medical community.”
I scoff. “The medical community hates me and my ‘back alley clinic’, remember? But sure, I’ll give it a go.”
“Maybe it’s your attitude they hate,” Sarah mutters. I shoot her a look, but let it go.
Really, I should get a fucking medal for ignoring all the backhanded comments she’s been making about me. Most people would have gotten a scalpel shoved up their ass. But…I respect Sarah and her work. I might disapprove of the value she places on hospital culture, but that’s my own issue, not hers.
Still, I can’t say the comments aren’t getting under my skin. Pulling the scalpel from my sleeve, I begin twirling it between my fingers. It's more of a nervous habit than anything, but I do love the reaction it gets me.
Cristian, of course, rolls his eyes, used to my bullshit. Allesandro narrows his gaze, as if assessing the type of threat I could be. If he doesn’t take it seriously, well, that’s on him. I’m sure the rumors of how I killed Nikolai Petrov with a scalpel have gotten out. Whether they choose to believe them or not is their problem, not mine. I’m always happy to give a demonstration.
The portrait is handed over to Sarah first, and she spends a considerable amount of time looking at it before finally shaking her head. “No,” she says. “Sorry, I don’t know him.”
Daddy takes it next, though he spends less time studying the drawing. “Neither do I, though I was sure I wouldn’t. My father preferred that I stayed out of the eyes of others, since I was such a disappointment to him.” The bitterness in Daddy’s voice makes me wish I had spent longer on killing Nikolai, but it wassadly a me or him situation, and I’m selfish enough to choose life.
Daddy waits until I put my scalpel away before handing me the portrait. It only takes one glance for me to recognize the bastard, and I sneer, before taking a longer, more considerate look to make sure I’m not wrong. Sadly, I’m not.
Looking up at Cristian, I’m sure he can see the disgust written all over my face. “I can’t even enjoy Beha’s mastery with a pencil because of this asshole.”
Cristian snorts. “Call Sinclair and ask nicely if you can commission another piece from her. Who is he?”
I sigh and decide I’m going to do just that, even though I hate talking to the lawyer more than I do my fellow doctors. Bastard is far too smug and psychopathic for my tastes, and that’s saying something, considering who my friends are. He’s also the only point of contact for Beha and her art, as she’s part of his team and he is… Protective is not strong enough of a word. I decide Cristian is going to be paying for my next art piece, and answer his question. “Donald McCormack the Third, though he prefers to go by Cor. Anyway, he’s a smug asshole who only got into med school because his parents paid his way.” I look at the portrait again, considering. “The stitches in your side are passable, which proves he’s not a complete moron.
“He actually graduated when we were supposed to, though I’m still not convinced he didn’t cheat his way through completion. Neither is Murry, it’s probably the only thing the two of us agree on. His family runs in the same circles as mine, which is probably why he’s familiar to you, Cris, even if you didn’t know his name. You would have met his parents at the charity ball a few times.”
Cristian nods. “Yes, Mary-Grace and Donald the Second, I remember. They usually have seats either with or near your parents.”
“Yeah. My mother and her best friend talk shit about his in private—which doesn’t give you much, because my mother talks shit about everyone, even her supposed best friend. But his family, while they're monetarily on the same level as mine, and those closest to them, they are notsociallypopular. Probably why they bought Cor’s entrance into med school. Not only was he lazy as a student, but he didn’t have the right connections for the university we attended.” I curl my lip at the absurdity of it all.
“What can you tell us about him?” Allesandro asks.
I shrug. “He got a job at the same hospital as Murry about ten years ago, but it didn’t last long before he was…recruited to a more prestigious one across the country.”
I smile a little at that. The careful manipulations Murry and I had to do, in order to get that done, still brings me joy.
“I had no idea he was in town, but if he’s working for those assholes…it’s not good.
“Unlike my family, his will bail him out of anything. So he either got himself into deep shit with the feds, and they’re using him to pay off a debt, or he’s got some stupid notion that being an asshole is cool or something. Either way, it’s not good. He is…a loose cannon, but one we could possibly exploit if we’re able to catch him.” I smile wickedly. “In case it wasn’t clear, he’s not all there upstairs. And the only loyal bone in his body is to his family trust fund. So…”
“So he might be useful,” Allesandro finishes, the quiet promise of retribution in his voice.
“Exactly.”
“Anything else?” Cristian asks.
I sigh, long and loud. “Since I didn’t know he was in town, that probably means very few people do. He’s the type of guy who would want to make his presence known, unless given express orders not to, and even then, you’d need to be doublysure he didn’t run his mouth about something. But…I know someone who would know for sure.”
“Who?” Allesandro barks.
I look at Cristian when I answer, hoping he can see that he owes me big time for this. “His mother. Cor is the biggest fucking mommy’s boy ever. Probably because she keeps his bank account full.”
Cristian at least has the decency to look sorry as he says, “You know what you have to do.”
I nod and grimace, reaching for my Daddy’s hand at the same time I set the drawing down and pull my scalpel back out. “Yeah, I have to callmyfucking mother and pretend I’m interested in high society fucking bullshit gossip.”
Fuck my fucking life.
