Chapter 94
Ethan
I was deep into reviewing quarterly reports from Black Investment Group when the door to my hospital room burst open. The sudden intrusion nearly made me choke on my morning coffee. There stood Noah, hair disheveled, his expensive shirt wrinkled and stained, and his face—Jesus Christ, his face looked like he'd volunteered as a punching bag. Angry red welts and purple bruises decorated his typically flawless features.
"Black," he groaned, dramatically collapsing onto the leather armchair by my bed. "I'm wounded in the line of duty. You owe me compensation for this shit. Look what happened to my face while gathering intelligence for you!"
I calmly continued slicing the organic apple on my breakfast tray, fighting to keep my amusement hidden. "Did you take an early morning trip to a beehive? Or perhaps you mistook a wasp nest for a pillow?"
Noah scowled, which only made his swollen face look more ridiculous. "Fuck you. This," he gestured wildly at his face, "is what friendship with you costs. I hope you appreciate my sacrifice."
"Enlighten me," I said, popping an apple slice into my mouth. "What exactly happened to your pretty face?"
"Olivia Bennett happened," Noah muttered, gingerly touching a particularly angry-looking welt on his cheek. "I was trying to arrange that meeting like you asked, and she completely lost it. Did you know she keeps a tennis racket in her trailer? Because I fucking didn't."
"I couldn't help but feel inexplicably cheerful this morning. Perhaps it was seeing Noah suffer a bit, or perhaps it was knowing Amelia was somewhere in this very hospital. 'Would you like some breakfast? Organic fruit, whole grain toast, freshly brewed coffee? I can ask Michael to go buy it."
"You're enjoying this," Noah accused, slumping further into the chair. "I get assaulted trying to help you, and you're offering me fruit?"
I studied him thoughtfully. "So Bennett's sister beat you up? Olivia's temper is apparently more explosive than I anticipated."
"I didn't do anything!" Noah protested. "I simply mentioned that you wanted to speak with her about Amelia, and she went ballistic. Started ranting about how you'd hurt Amelia enough and how she wouldn't let you anywhere near her again."
He winced as he touched another bruise. "I need medical attention. I should find Amelia to take care of this."
My good mood evaporated instantly. "Go find a nurse," I said coldly.
Just as Noah was about to argue, James pushed open the door.
"Morning, gentlemen," James greeted, before stopping short at the sight of Noah. "Did you spend the night at a beehive in Central Park?"
I couldn't help but laugh this time. "Great minds think alike."
James set the bags down on the small table and started unpacking various containers. "The Blue Note is doing well. We're looking at expanding to the Upper West Side by next quarter." He glanced at me. "How's the recovery coming along? You look better today."
"I feel better," I admitted. I needed to get out of this hospital bed soon if I had any hope of properly pursuing Amelia. My plan to win her back couldn't be executed from a hospital room.
Noah was still fixated on his injuries. "Does anyone care that I'm wounded? I need medical attention, preferably from a certain pretty doctor named Thompson."
"Drop it, Randall," I warned, my voice taking on an edge that made both men look at me. "James, go to the nurses' station and get some antiseptic and bandages."
James raised an eyebrow but nodded. "I'll be right back."
As soon as James left, Noah shifted uncomfortably under my glare. "What? I'm just saying she could take a look at these. It's her job, isn't it?"
"Find another doctor," I said firmly. If anyone was going to engineer a 'coincidental' meeting with Amelia, it would be me. On my terms. When I was ready.
James returned with a small medical kit and tossed it to Noah. "DIY time, pretty boy."
"You've got to be kidding me," Noah complained, fumbling with the kit. "I don't know how to use this stuff."
James sighed dramatically and took the kit from him. "Fine, I'll do it. Sit still and try not to cry."
I leaned back against my pillows, watching with amusement as James dabbed antiseptic on Noah's injuries. Noah hissed and cursed with each touch.
"Blow on it," I suggested innocently. "I hear that helps with the sting."
To my absolute delight, James actually leaned forward and blew gently on Noah's cheek. The sight was so ridiculous that I couldn't help myself—I reached for my phone to capture this blackmail-worthy moment.
Just as I was about to snap the picture, the door opened again. I straightened up immediately, my finger freezing over the camera button as Amelia walked in, followed by several young doctors in training. My heart practically jumped into my throat at the sight of her, professional and composed in her white coat, clipboard in hand.
I watched her eyes widen slightly at the scene before her—James bent over Noah, lips pursed as he blew on the man's face—before her expression settled back into professional neutrality. God, she was beautiful when she was being clinical.
"Dr. Thompson," I said, my voice coming out softer than I intended. "Good morning."
Her eyes flickered to me briefly before addressing the room at large. "Good morning, Mr. Black. I'm conducting rounds with our residents today." She gestured to the young doctors behind her. "We'll be brief. How are you feeling this morning? Any dizziness or discomfort?"
"None at all, thank you for asking, Dr. Thompson," I replied, deliberately making my voice gentle and compliant. I wanted her to see that I could be a model patient for her.
She nodded, making a note on her clipboard. "Your vital signs from the night shift look good. The medication seems to be working effectively." She turned to the residents. "Mr. Black was admitted with stress-induced hypertension and minor injuries from a fall. His treatment plan includes..."
I barely heard the medical jargon she was explaining to her students. I was too busy watching the way her hands moved as she spoke, the professional confidence in her posture, the way she maintained eye contact with her students rather than looking at me.
After a few minutes of explanation, she turned back to me. "Do you have any questions about your treatment, Mr. Black?"
"None," I said, still watching her intently. "Thank you, Dr. Thompson."
She nodded curtly and turned to leave, then paused to look at James and Noah, who had frozen in their awkward position since she entered.
"You gentlemen can continue," she said with the barest hint of amusement in her voice. "Just try to keep the noise down."
As the door closed behind her and her entourage, I finally let out the laugh I'd been holding in. Noah covered his face with his hands, which only made him wince again from the pain.
"I'm ruined," he moaned. "This will be all over the Upper East Side by lunchtime. I'll never be able to explain this."