The Billionaire’s Past (His Submissive #10)(3)
Author: Ava Claire

But I wouldn’t use this against her. That’s not who I am.

I reached out and put a hand over hers. “I’m sorry that happened to your sister, but I’m sure she knows you love her. That you were just trying to do what was best for her.”

“Rehab at sixteen. That’s what was best for her?" Missy said with a bitter laugh.

“If it kept her from making a mistake at eighteen that couldn’t be fixed without permanent damage.”

I couldn’t believe I was about to say this, but like it or not, Missy was being genuine. I didn’t think she could pull this off, turning her makeup to soup, losing it in front of me with some sort of ulterior motive. She’d made a mistake with her sister and obviously another with Mia. The fact that she was here was proof that she wasn’t all bad. That there was hope for Missy Diaz yet.

The driver pulled up to the entrance of the hospital and I turned to Missy, giving her hand a squeeze. “Ready?”

She tilted her chin up, a look of determination on her face. “Let’s go.”

Armed with larger than life bouquets, we avoided the flashing bulbs, heading toward the sliding doors. Some gangly, strung out looking guy was grinning big in front of the crowd, talking about Mia. He was updating the press, letting them know that she was conscious but under close watch with no visitors except for family. I felt anger catch fire in my veins when I realized this was the ‘friend’ who found her. The ‘friend’ who had no problem selling her out if the price was right.

“Another time, Leila," Missy said, picking up on my desire to pummel him. "Right now, let’s check on Mia.”

For once, me and Missy agreed on something.

As soon as we breezed to the waiting room area disinfectant and the odorless smell of sick washed over me.

There was one nurse behind the desk and I could tell she was no joke. Built like a mountain, with eyes like jagged rocks and arms like boulders, she looked dead at us and smirked like we weren’t getting what we wanted before we even got it out.

“Good afternoon,” Missy said warmly, disregarding the woman’s demeanor.

The nurse grunted. I gave her an uneasy smile as my eyes dropped to her badge. Nurse Deadwood. Of course that was her name.

“We’d like to visit a patient. Her name is Mia–”

“You and every other Tom, Dick, and Harry with a camera,” Nurse Deadwood interrupted with a snort. “If you ain’t related to the girl, you can march right back on out of here and join your pals.”

“How much?”

Nurse Deadwood narrowed her beady eyes. “They’ve already been raining twenties around here like this is a strip club. You can leave or I can call security.”

“How about a thousand dollars?” Missy countered smoothly.

All those zeroes made my eyebrows jump but I yanked them back down before the nurse glanced at me, sure this was some sort of ruse.

“That’s a lot of money for a photographer to be throwing around.”

I almost corrected her, but I had a feeling that if she knew what company we worked for the price would double. Nurse Deadwood looked around and when she was satisfied no one was watching she gave Missy a nod. The envelope was pulled covertly from Missy’s clutch and handed it over. It was way too bulky to hold a check.

I gulped. She’d just forked over 1k in cash and the nurse didn’t even bat an eye. I wondered what kind of haul she got when she had celebrity patients in the hospital.

She typed in our names and printed out our visitor badges. Her face scrunched when I said mine but she shrugged her shoulder like I couldn’t be that Leila Montgomery.

She slid the badges across the counter with two sausage sized fingers. “One person at a time. The other can wait out here.”

We put some distance between us and the warden, pressing the adhesive to our chests.

I almost asked Missy if she usually carried around that kind of cash for these types of situations, but the first rule of Fight Club is you don’t talk about Fight Club. Besides, the means didn’t matter. We were gonna see Mia. That was priceless.

Missy fumbled through her clutch and pulled out a small container of hand sanitizer. “I have a feeling she’d want to see your face before mine. If she wants to see mine at all.”

I wheeled toward the secured entrance, eyeing Nurse Deadwood. She gave me a strange look before she hit the button that sent the doors swinging outward.

“Leila?”

I stopped just inside, turning back toward Missy’s voice.

She gave me a rueful smile. “Tell her I’m sorry.”

Section 2

I couldn’t even recognize her.

Mia’s cheeks were drawn, gaunt like her skin was pulled too tightly over bone. Her eyes were down, staring at the hands bound beneath the restraints, but I could still see the swollen bags beneath. Her dyed blond hair looked fluorescent against her pale skin. The hospital gown clung to her frame. Swallowing her.

I tapped hesitantly on the open door. “Mia?”

She didn’t even look up. “I told you I’m not hungry. Isn’t it enough that you have me strapped to this bed like an animal?”

I moved into the room until I was in full view. “I’m not a nurse.”

She slowly tilted her chin up, those same swollen blue eyes from earlier widening with recognition. “You!” She looked to her left where the nurse call string dangled just out of reach. “I don’t want you here. This doesn’t have anything to do with you. Scott was supposed to keep you people out.”

I remembered the guy at the entrance, smiling for the camera and milking his five minutes of fame. A part of me wanted to reveal him for the ass**le he really was, but she already felt cornered. The last thing I needed to do was out one of her friends as a fake.

“I’m not here as a rep of Whitmore and Creighton.”

“Oh really?” she scoffed, looking like herself when she arched her eyebrow and gave me her best ‘bitch please’ face. “Why are you here?”

“Because I meant what I said at the meeting,” I answered, crossing the divide and dropping my bouquet on the side table. “I’m here to help."

Surprise flashed in her eyes but she erased it with an eye roll. “I don’t need your help.”

The fact that she’d been found in a pool of vomit surrounded by empty pill bottles and was strapped to the bed The Exorcist style begged to differ, but I knew she wasn’t gonna welcome me with open arms. She’d been living in denial for too long.