Page 81 of Dirty Little Secrets
I roll my eyes. “If you say so.”
“I do,” he says. “You said you were late for an appointment?”
I check my watch. Shit. “Yes, I have an echo scheduled for, well, two minutes ago.”
He nods toward the elevators. “I’ll walk you.”
“There’s no need.” He places his warm palm on the small of my back, and I give in. “Fine.”
“So, you’ve had a heart transplant,” he muses as we wait for the elevator doors to open.
“Yup,” I say, dreading another inquisition. “Ask away, Doctor. I’m sure you’ve got loads of questions.”
“Not really,” he hums, standing beside me as we pile through the doors. “I’m glad you were able to find a donor. Has your health improved?”
“Seriously?” I shoot him a knowing side-eye. “You tell me, Doc. Prior to the surgery, I could barely walk up a flight of stairs without getting winded.” I smirk. “How would you rate mystaminanow?”
Quinton’s jaw ticks as I verbally teleport him back to Club Hades. “I’d give you a solid three out of five.”
I scoff. “A 3? Need I remind you?—”
“No need.” His eyes harden, and my tongue freezes as he shifts his weight, looming over me with debilitating power. He lifts his hand, stroking my hairline. “I remember it quite well, darling.” He swallows, gaze floating across my stunned features. “However, to achieve a five requires great practice, and you’re still…” He pauses, the corner of his lips quirking into a taunting grin. “A novice.”
“I guess I’ll just practice more,” I mumble, offended by his arbitrary grading system. “A lot more.”
He smirks, clicking his tongue. “You can practice for decades, darling, but if you don’t have the right partner, your efforts will be futile.”
I frown at him, both intrigued and surprisingly protective. “I quite like my current partner.”
He chuckles. “And I like crème brûlée, but you don’t see me eating it every day. Simply because you like something, little Emery, doesn’t mean it’s good for you.”
“Is that your professional opinion, Dr. Marquis?” I ask, cocking my head. “I thought researchers aren’t supposed to be biased.”
“Ah…” He holds up a finger as the elevator doors ping open. “But we do posit a hypothesis, don’t we? And this is mine.”
“Well good luck with proving your theory,” I say, rolling my eyes despite my amusement. “Might be hard without a willing participant.”
“Oh, I think the participant is more than willing, darling,” he says, leading me toward the cardiology wing. “In fact, I’ve already begun amassing incredible data. It’s all very promising.”
“Fascinating,” I hum, stopping in front of the department doors. “Maybe one day, you can share your findings with me.”
“Oh, I intend to share every sordid detail.” He opens the door for me. “After you.”
“Thanks, I got it from here.” Unable to shake Quinton off, I approach the reception desk. The MOAglances up at me. “Hi, I have an appointment for an echo. Emery Jones.”
“Oh, yes.” She peers down at the computer. “I have you scheduled for a TOE with Dr. Newman. Room three. He’s ready for you.”
My face falls. “A TOE? No, Dr. Yang said it’s just a basic TTE. I don’t?—”
The MOA scrunches her nose, double-checking. “Mmm… It says transoesophageal echocardiogram.” She glances up at me. “I could call Dr. Yang’s office and?—”
“It’s fine,” I sigh, a lump forming in my throat. God, when will it end? “Room three, you said?”
“Mhmm.” She motions down the hall. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I turn around, facing Quin. “Well, thanks for… I’ll see you around.”
He frowns. “You’re scared.”
