Read Online The Reckless Secret, Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire In Love BBW Romance) by Alexa Wilder - Free Book Online
Authors: Alexa Wilder
Ads: Link
conversation and go bury herself in bed for the rest of the day. When she’d hoped that Grant might make her feel better about all of this somehow, she never considered that he might instead confirm Declan’s shitty behavior.
“Look, he’s got a reputation,” he continued. “He’s known for this. I’m just saying—leave it at that, okay? Don’t get involved. That’s not who he is.”
“You’re saying he’s a player.”
“Of course, he’s a player,” Grant said, impatience in his tone, like she was an idiot for even having to question it. “He’s Declan Archibald. The guy every pretty young thing wants. There’s no way he’s ready to give up the perks of that particular label.”
Ten minutes later, Maggie took the flowers outside and down the street and chucked them in a dumpster behind a Chinese restaurant. She didn’t even want the smell of them in her home.
8
Maggie
M aggie had barely taken three steps into the hospital when Dr. Stevens cornered her, as if he’d been loitering in the wings, ready to pounce.
“Ms. Emerson.”
She jumped, coffee spilling and burning her fingers, her hair a total rat’s nest from the strong winds they’d been hit with that morning.
Her stomach filled with dread at the badly concealed smugness on his face.
“What’s going on?”
“Come to my office, please,” he said, and then marched off, leaving her reeling.
Oh shit . This didn’t feel good. This didn’t feel anything close to good. Clearly, whatever was about to happen, it delighted him. That look on his face said he was going to enjoy every single moment of it. And considering how much he disliked her, that could only mean one thing: she was screwed.
Heart in her throat, she made her way up to his office. She was the only one working today, so she didn’t even have Ashley or Cami to gather strength from. At least she didn’t have to face Ronald—he was nowhere to be seen as she ambled through the ER ward, desperately trying to get her racing heart under control before she took whatever Dr. Stevens planned to throw at her.
When she entered his office, it wasn’t the sight of him that filled her with overwhelming, ice-cold panic. Standing in front of the window, hands clasped behind his back, and framed by weak sunlight like something straight out of a made-for-TV crime movie, was a stocky gentleman wearing jeans and a leather jacket…with a police badge clipped on his belt.
Maggie swallowed past the rising tide of fear creeping up her throat, and said, “Is this about the—”
Dr. Stevens cleared his throat. “Please sit down,” he instructed, doing a terrible job of hiding his glee at the situation.
She remained standing and looked at the policeman expectantly. He stepped forward. His voice was thin and reedy when he spoke, but not unkind.
“Ms. Emerson, I’m Detective Sanders.” He paused, as if waiting for her to greet him in return, but she said nothing. After an awkward beat, he pulled a notebook from his pocket and flipped it open to a page somewhere in the middle. “Can you take a look at this list and tell me where you were at each of these times?”
With a shaking hand, she took the notebook from him and stared at his list. At first, she couldn’t see anything, the panic making the letters run together like spilled ink, blurry and indistinct. But she needed to get a grip on herself, find some courage, because acting meek and tremulous would only make her appear guilty.
She blinked her vision clear and read the list.
And then fought the terror filling her entire body at the sensation of the walls closing in on her.
“Here.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I was here,” she said firmer, looking back up at him. There was no point lying. On this, at least, they had her over a barrel. “These were my shifts in the past month.”
“All of them?” he asked, taking the notepad back from her. His question confused her a little. Or maybe the panic had removed her ability to
“Look, he’s got a reputation,” he continued. “He’s known for this. I’m just saying—leave it at that, okay? Don’t get involved. That’s not who he is.”
“You’re saying he’s a player.”
“Of course, he’s a player,” Grant said, impatience in his tone, like she was an idiot for even having to question it. “He’s Declan Archibald. The guy every pretty young thing wants. There’s no way he’s ready to give up the perks of that particular label.”
Ten minutes later, Maggie took the flowers outside and down the street and chucked them in a dumpster behind a Chinese restaurant. She didn’t even want the smell of them in her home.
8
Maggie
M aggie had barely taken three steps into the hospital when Dr. Stevens cornered her, as if he’d been loitering in the wings, ready to pounce.
“Ms. Emerson.”
She jumped, coffee spilling and burning her fingers, her hair a total rat’s nest from the strong winds they’d been hit with that morning.
Her stomach filled with dread at the badly concealed smugness on his face.
“What’s going on?”
“Come to my office, please,” he said, and then marched off, leaving her reeling.
Oh shit . This didn’t feel good. This didn’t feel anything close to good. Clearly, whatever was about to happen, it delighted him. That look on his face said he was going to enjoy every single moment of it. And considering how much he disliked her, that could only mean one thing: she was screwed.
Heart in her throat, she made her way up to his office. She was the only one working today, so she didn’t even have Ashley or Cami to gather strength from. At least she didn’t have to face Ronald—he was nowhere to be seen as she ambled through the ER ward, desperately trying to get her racing heart under control before she took whatever Dr. Stevens planned to throw at her.
When she entered his office, it wasn’t the sight of him that filled her with overwhelming, ice-cold panic. Standing in front of the window, hands clasped behind his back, and framed by weak sunlight like something straight out of a made-for-TV crime movie, was a stocky gentleman wearing jeans and a leather jacket…with a police badge clipped on his belt.
Maggie swallowed past the rising tide of fear creeping up her throat, and said, “Is this about the—”
Dr. Stevens cleared his throat. “Please sit down,” he instructed, doing a terrible job of hiding his glee at the situation.
She remained standing and looked at the policeman expectantly. He stepped forward. His voice was thin and reedy when he spoke, but not unkind.
“Ms. Emerson, I’m Detective Sanders.” He paused, as if waiting for her to greet him in return, but she said nothing. After an awkward beat, he pulled a notebook from his pocket and flipped it open to a page somewhere in the middle. “Can you take a look at this list and tell me where you were at each of these times?”
With a shaking hand, she took the notebook from him and stared at his list. At first, she couldn’t see anything, the panic making the letters run together like spilled ink, blurry and indistinct. But she needed to get a grip on herself, find some courage, because acting meek and tremulous would only make her appear guilty.
She blinked her vision clear and read the list.
And then fought the terror filling her entire body at the sensation of the walls closing in on her.
“Here.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I was here,” she said firmer, looking back up at him. There was no point lying. On this, at least, they had her over a barrel. “These were my shifts in the past month.”
“All of them?” he asked, taking the notepad back from her. His question confused her a little. Or maybe the panic had removed her ability to
Similar Books
