Page 7 of Psychotic Obsession
I shake my head. "That works fine. Are you staying near the hospital?"
"My house is about fifty minutes away."
I sip my drink. "Do you drive?"
"I do. I usually pick Justin up on the way here."
"Is he the other assistant?" I ask, knowing he has been assigned to Gabriella. Which, in all honesty, I feel bad for him. She might be fun on the outside, but she's a bossy bitch and extremely demanding when it comes to work. It suits her, gets her to where she wants to be with her workload, so I just wave it off whenever she's being moody.
"I was actually supposed to be your colleague’s assistant, but Justin insisted he would work better with her."
I snort. She will eat him alive.
By the time we finish and my shift comes to an end, I say goodbye to everyone and head to the hotel.
Gabs won't be back for a few hours–she has a date she matched with on her dating app, so the chances of her coming home at all are slim to none.
I bathe in the hotel bathtub and relax with music playing, reading a book. I'm fully immersed in my fictional world when the first message comes through.
TobiasWork: I want to apologize again for tripping you the other day. I was looking at a test Ivy Dermot had a few months back. Is it possible to call and discuss it with you?
Me: Which one? We can look over her files tomorrow.
His reply comes through while I dry myself with a towel and settle into bed.
TobiasWork: She had Pharmacogenetic tests done in April. Was that for the seizure medication you had her put on?
I'm starting to think he's just trying to talk to me. This isn't even slightly necessary, definitely something that can be discussed during work hours. I entertain him by replying with a yes, and then I place my phone on its charging station.
It's nearly ten, and I'm usually asleep by now, but each time my phone dings, I pounce for it. For the next two hours, it's a back and forth discussion about tests and trials that have already been looked at. When I finally tell him this should be something we should be talking about in a meeting or in my temporary office, he quickly apologizes, followed by a "goodnight, Doctor".
Me: If you call me doctor one more time, I will make your position as my assistant hell.
TobiasWork: Oh, really? Is that a threat?
My bottom lip traps between my teeth as I reread the words. This isn't professional at all, right? If someone were to read these messages, they’d assume there was some sort of flirting going on. A shot of excitement runs up my spine at the thought, but I shake my head and reply.
Me: Yes. I wouldn't get on my bad side, Tobias.
TobiasWork: Sounds like a challenge, Doctor.
I send a smiley emoji so he knows I'm not too serious, slapping myself on the forehead when I realize it definitely is flirting. When he replies with a wink, I toss my phone to the floor with a groan.
As soon as we get into work the following morning, Gabriella has made plans for us tonight.
Tobias sits on his phone most of the day instead of helping me, and every time I ask him to look at something, he apologizes and rushes out of the room.
I understand emergencies, but a little communication helps a lot.
I'm left to do all the paperwork, all the phone calls, and my assistant seems to have vanished off the face of the Earth.
Not the flirty one in the messages at all. He seems stressed and anxious. He fidgets, runs his hands through his hair, and stares at the same page for nearly two hours on the opposite side of my desk. He simply hums when I ask if everything is okay.
When Gabs comes in and says it's time to go, he gets to his feet and doesn't spare either of us a glance as he leaves the room.
Gabriella raises a brow. "What's up his ass?"
Chapter 3
