by Lissa Del
Ingrid, the Spa Manager, is delighted to see us, toting Leo’s Platinum card, and she greets us warmly.
“Of course I don’t need to explain anything to you,” she winks, as though our one-time previous visit makes us regulars, “so, I’ll just show you to your villa.”
We don’t have the same cottage as before, but the one we are assigned is identical to the first, down to the tiny silver sugar-bowl on the left of the kettle.
“Your treatments tomorrow will be as before,” Ingrid advises before she leaves. “And breakfast is served from seven-thirty.”
“Thank you, Ingrid.”
The second she is gone, I flop onto the king-sized bed, rubbing my cheek against the smooth cotton pillow.
“Tired?” Leo asks from the foot of the bed.
“You have no idea.” I sigh. Leo chuckles and then I hear him move away. I open one eye but I don’t follow him and a few minutes later the bed dips under his bulk. I snuggle into his chest.
“Where did you go?”
“I ordered our dinner in.”
“You are a legend.”
He kisses my forehead. “Sleep, Sarah. You need it.”
I wake up to the feel of his fingers stroking my hair and I smile contentedly before I even open my eyes.
“Hey.” My voice is husky from sleep. “Is it time to get up already?”
“It’s time to eat. Our dinner’s arrived.”
The two-seater dining table beckons, but I pass it by, heading for the patio instead. Leo follows me but we have barely sat down when the sound of his phone ringing breaks the peaceful silence. Leo groans.
“Start without me,” he says, loping back inside.
I pick at my food, half an ear on his conversation. I hear the words ‘hospital’ and ‘operation’ and my curiosity is piqued. Casually I lean toward the open section of the sliding-door and Leo’s voice grows louder.
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you; I won’t do it. I don’t care what he says.” There’s a pause and then, “Yeah, well I’m a surgeon too, and even if I was interested in doing it, the risks are too high.”
I risk a quick glance around. Leo has his back to me and he’s walking back toward the bedroom. His voice fades and I feel an overwhelming frustration. Determined, I get to my feet, but, in my haste my knee catches the edge of the table and sends my fork clattering to the floor.
“Dammit!” I curse, retrieving it and hurrying inside. I’m too late. Leo is walking toward me, his phone nowhere in sight.
“Who was that?” I ask. My contentment has evaporated, replaced by a nagging suspicion that is becoming all too familiar.
“My sister,” he replies smoothly. I turn my back on him so he won’t see the look on my face. He’s lying.
My suspicion stands between me and a weekend of bliss. Not even the strong hands of my masseuse can relieve the tension in my body as I silently battle the feelings of mistrust building inside me. Leo doesn’t seem to notice and my traitorous body responds to his every touch. Leo toys with me throughout the day – a sensual touch here, a gentle stroke there, between every treatment and over a lingering lunch in the cellar where his eyes make promises that have me squirming. By the time we enter the Rasul my body is screaming for release and my mind is all too happy to go along for the ride, letting Leo make love to me so passionately that it obliterates every misgiving I have, even if only temporarily.
“I love you.” He breathes the words into my mouth through the heat and mist, his lips warm and wet as the water drips from his mouth into mine. He buries himself so deep within me that I cry out, my nails digging reflexively into his back and I let myself become lost in him. I let myself drown in him.
“It’s a surgery only he can perform,” Jess whispers confidently. “It has to be.” We are sitting in Noah’s lecture hall, the dull monotone of his voice washing over us. I take comfort in the fact that this is the last semester I will ever be subjected to Noah’s teaching.
“I thought of that, but surely when you stop practicing you can’t just flit in and out of theatre?” I reply. “Don’t surgeons have all sorts of insurances and things? Those would have lapsed!”
“Maybe he kept them paid-up? Or the hospital did – maybe he’s just that good.” Typical Jess, always looking for the attractive option.
“That’s a lot of maybes.” I tap my pen on the blank page before me. “But even if that’s the case, why not just tell me? Now that I know all about his past, why keep it a secret?”
Jess has no answer for this one and I drop the pen with a sigh, rubbing my temples. I look up to find Noah regarding me curiously and I paste a smile on my face.
“We’ll figure this out,” Jess reassures me. “Leo’s one of the good guys, Sarah. I bet there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. But if you need answers we’ll get them.”
“How?”
“You sure you don’t want to just ask him?” she repeats the same question she asked me ten minutes ago and I nod. Between the conversation I overheard at Ellen’s and the telephone call on Friday night, the secrets are piling up. I’m going mental thinking about it all but I can’t bring myself to bring it up with Leo. Partly because I’d have to admit to eavesdropping, and partly because I don’t know if he would tell me the truth. “Okay, then we go to plan B,” Jess says.
“Which is?”
She grins conspiratorially, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “Tom.”
Jess’s plan consists of snooping around the hospital. The details are vague but Tom is required to wear black.
“Why don’t I just walk in with a mask on my face?” he snorts, when she outlines her idea.
“Too obvious,” Jess replies, completely seriously.
“They won’t tell us anything,” I insist, thinking back to my conversation with Doctor Fraser.
“Tom can charm the pants off any woman who lays eyes on him,” Jess reminds me. Tom, who has his Mission Impossible face on, nods in sage agreement.
“You think this is a good idea?” I ask him.
“I think you need answers, Sarah. And if Leo’s not going to give them to you, then we’ll have to find another way.”
CHAPTER 29
“If they ask why you want to know tell them you’re a friend of his sister, Trisha, and you want to get in touch with the family,” I hiss, as Tom and I walk up to the automatic doors at the Jansens Hospital. “You and Trisha are about the same age so it’s not too much of stretch to believe you went to school together.”
“Just leave it to me!” he snaps back. “I know what I’m doing!”
“Don’t let them know you’re gay!” He flaps his hands at me in a very non-straight way and I shut up. As we reach the familiar half-moon counter I veer left, pretending to be on the phone. I risk a peek at the two receptionists on duty and breathe a sigh of relief. They’re not the same night-shift brunettes who were on duty when Jess was admitted.
“Hello,” Tom greets them both. The woman on the left merely glances up and then continues sorting through the stack of patient files before her, but the one on the right’s face splits into a beam and Tom subtly shifts his body towards her. “Nicky?” he asks, having clocked her name badge. “I wonder if you could help me.”
“Of course, Sir, what do you need?”
“Well, for starters, my name is Tom, not Sir,” he is unabashedly flirting, “but I’ve been known to answer to both.” I think he might be overdoing it a bit, but Nicky seems delighted.
“What can I do for you, Tom?” For a name with only a single syllable she manages to drag it out into a purr.
“It’s about Doctor Russell,” he begins, but before he can go any further, she speaks, eager to impress.
“Sure, third floor, Suite 3C.”
I blink in confusion and even Tom falters. “I thought Doctor Russell was no longer practicing?” he stammers, and I turn away in dismay at his complete meltdown under pressure.
“Oh, that Doctor Russel
l,” she giggles, and I relax, “sorry, but you’re right. He’s taken an extended leave of absence.”
Tom feigns genuine disappointment, “Any idea when he’ll be back?”
Nicky’s eyes narrow slightly, but I can see her fighting an internal battle between wanting to please him and doing the right thing. Her companion shows no such compunction. Sliding a hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone she’s now speaking into, she leans across the counter until she’s under Tom’s nose.
“May I ask what this is in connection with, Sir?” She deliberately refrains from calling him by his Christian name.
“I’m a friend of the family,” Tom replies smoothly, “I was at school with his kid sister, Tasha.”
I stifle the urge to scream. Trisha, Tom, it’s Trisha! Fortunately, it doesn’t appear these women know the difference. “I’m in town for a visit and wanted to get in touch with her,” Tom continues, “but she’s unlisted. I remembered her brother worked here, so…” he lets the obvious conclusion hang in the air. It’s a lame argument given that he’s just admitted he knows Leo no longer practices. The bolshie receptionist seems to come to the same conclusion.
“I’m sorry, Sir, we aren’t permitted to disclose any personal information about members of staff,” she states bluntly. Nicky gives Tom an apologetic look.
“That’s okay,” Tom says, drumming his fingers twice on the polished wood surface. “Thank you for your time, ladies.” He saunters away and I rush to meet him at the main doors.
“Well that didn’t go as planned,” Tom admits.
“You think?” I sigh. “What do I do now?”
“You ask him straight up. This is ridiculous Sarah – just ask Leo.”
Over the next few weeks I try on numerous occasions to bring it up but my courage fails me. Leo is more attentive than ever, and with the deadline for my thesis submission looming, I find myself leaning more and more heavily on him for emotional support. Dianna will be submitting our final projects to the Selection committee mid-May and in the three weeks leading up to D-day I am operating on an average of three hours’ sleep a night.
“You look terrible,” Leo sympathises on the morning of the fifteenth, handing me a cup of coffee in bed. I accept it gratefully, wondering if the caffeine in my system will get me through the day. “How are you feeling?” he asks, climbing onto the bed beside me. The mattress groans in protest under the additional weight.
“I’m just glad it’s finally here. The only good thing about having to prepare earlier than everyone else is that I can basically coast through the rest of the year.”
“There’s that silver lining. Why don’t we go out for dinner tonight to celebrate?” It’s a sweet gesture but he takes one look at my face and bursts out laughing. “Or we could just stay in,” he offers. “Pizza and a movie?”
“That sounds amazing.”
“Good. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“What?”
“Not now,” he says, getting to his feet, “we’ll talk later.” He looks almost uncomfortable.
“Now you’ve got me worried.”
“Don’t worry,” he gives me the benefit of his crooked grin, “it’s a big day. I just wanted to mention it so I don’t chicken out later.”
“It’s going to bother me all day.”
“Well then I suggest you hurry home.” He kisses me again and leaves to me to get ready.
My stomach is in knots as I enter the campus building. This thesis is the culmination of years of hard work. I’ve had my heart set on the Burke & Duke internship since the first day I set foot on the Holmes campus, since before I even enrolled, and it all comes down to this. If I lose, I could probably still land an entry-level position in a smaller firm, but I want to work at Burke & Duke. It’s the Mecca to my pilgrimage.
“Sarah,” Dianna greets me as I walk through her office door. I set down my 3D model on her desk, along with my perfectly-bound thesis document. It hits the desk with a thud and she nods in approval, but her lips are tight. She gets right to the point.
“I had a chat with one of my ex-colleagues at Burke & Duke last night. I called in to confirm the submission requirements. She had some interesting information to share.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“She mentioned that one of their staff is dating someone here at Holmes.” She gives me an arch look and my heart sinks.
“Noah?”
“It looks that way.”
I cast my mind back to that afternoon when Noah threatened me with his friendship with one of the Burke & Duke panellists.
“Is this woman’s name Amanda, by any chance?” I ask Dianna wearily.
“Indeed,” she confirms. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, but, given your history with him, I hope you heeded my advice. Of course, our personal lives should have no bearing on our professional lives but as you know it doesn’t always work that way.”
“Noah wouldn’t sabotage my career,” I say. I cast my mind back to the last time I saw him – in the parking-lot outside this very building. He had been amicable enough toward the end, but I couldn’t forget the look of anger on his face when he saw Leo and I together, or the viciousness he’d displayed the night he learned we were dating.
“Are you sure about that?”
No, not really.
“If anything were to go wrong couldn’t you speak to your colleagues?” I ask nervously.
“The apprenticeship selection falls wholly under the appointed panel. My colleagues are not likely to get involved with a junior position placement and to ask them to do so would be, quite frankly, insulting. It would also reflect badly on me.”
“Of course, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“I’m sure everything will be fine, I just wanted to let you know what I’d heard.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
The second I’m outside I call Noah’s number on my phone.
“Sarah!” he doesn’t sound half as shocked as I thought he’d be, hearing from me.
“Hi,” I keep my voice calm, “how are you?”
“Good. What’s up?”
“I… there’s no easy way to say this, but I heard that you were dating someone from Burke & Duke.”
“Amanda? Yeah, she works at Burke.” He says it lightly but I can hear the satisfaction in his voice, knowing that he’s rattled me.
“Noah, you know this internship means everything to me.”
There’s a long silence. “Sarah, are you asking me to influence Amanda to vote in your favour?” His indignance is so fake I feel sick.
“Of course not! I’m asking exactly the opposite.”
“So you think I’d plot against you?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m just asking that you don’t do anything, either way. Please.”
Noah laughs. “So now that you want something from me you’re prepared to be nice – is that how this works?”
“I don’t want anything from you, Noah. Please, just… just leave it alone. You know how hard I’ve worked for this.”
“As has Samantha,” he points out.
“Yes,” I grit my teeth. “As has Samantha. I want it to be a fair fight.”
“I really don’t know what you expect me to say, Sarah.”
“Forget it, I’m sorry I called.”
“Hold on a second.” When he speaks again his voice is further away. “It’s my ex-,” he says. I hear a woman speaking in the background and then he’s back.
“I’m sorry, I have to go. Amanda isn’t pleased.” He hangs up and I feel the bile rise in my throat. I’ve just blown it.
CHAPTER 30
By the time I get home I’m fuming. Noah set me up, the bastard! I replay the conversation in my head, cringing at how it must have sounded to Amanda, who was, no doubt, sitting beside Noah throughout.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” I yell, hurling my purse at the table in the hall. It slides across the smooth surface and drops innoce
ntly to the floor with a dull thud.
“Hey!” Leo pokes his head around the corner, “what’s up with you?”
“I think I just lost the internship.”
“But aren’t they only announcing the winner next week?”
“Noah’s dating one of the selection committee.”
“Only one of them?” Leo raises his brow. “He must be losing his edge.”
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s kind of funny. Hey,” he pulls me toward him, his strong arms coming around my waist, “Why are you so upset?” For the briefest moment he looks horrified, as if, perhaps, I’m jealous.
“I called him,” I admit, and the jealousy festers. Leo arms begin to withdraw, “to ask him not to get involved, not to influence the panel.” I explain quickly and he relaxes. “She was with him.” I finish.
“Oh shit!”
“Yeah.”
“Surely she wouldn’t be petty enough to hold it against you. I mean, you guys are over.”
“It’s not that. Noah made it sound like…”
“Made it sound like what?”
“Like I was trying to cheat. He twisted my words around and she was listening.”
“Oh, Sarah,” he sounds oddly disappointed. “Why did you call him?”
“I don’t know! I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to screw this up for me! He’s been so angry, and I… I need this, Leo. I’ve worked for it. I could out-design Samantha with my eyes closed!”
“I know that; you don’t need to prove anything to me, but bringing her down isn’t the right way to go about it.”
“I’m not bringing her down I’m just saying it how it is.”
“Could you calm down, please, I’m not the one who got you into this mess, neither is Samantha, for that matter. Your phone call to your ex-did that.”
“Seriously? You’re saying this is my fault?” I pull away from him, storming through to the kitchen.
“Sarah…” he watches as I open a bottle of wine, pulling the cork out with such a vengeance that I hit my hand on the overhead cupboards. “Maybe you shouldn’t drink that. I know you’ve had a bad day but drinking isn’t going to fix anything.”