Page 22 of Scars of Silk

“Don’t be.” I chuckle a little as I open up the cupboards and try to find some food. “He’s a pain in the arse.”

“Talking of trashy gossip, I haven’t seen you in black and white print recently. Normally The Sun likes to snap a candid of you in your tracksuit buying your milk at the weekend. Have you not been attending any events with your father?”

My stomach clenches with a will of its own. “Not as many as I should, but I think people have lost interest in me since Elijah and I called it off.” Oh crap, my stomach lurches. I ignore her muttering about whether I’m talking about the real engagement with Elijah which was part farce or the actual pretend second one. “Shit.” I cut her off. “I’ve got lunch tomorrow at my parents.”

There’s an expectant pause which Melissa fills. “And? That’s not a problem is it? As foul a mood as Elijah is in, I don’t think he expects you to work all weekend.”

“No, I guess he doesn’t.” My teeth automatically munch on my bottom lip. The problem I have is that I don’t want to leave the angry man alone. I don’t trust him not to reduce himself to a corpse at the first available opportunity. Not that I should care. Not that I do, anyway.

“What’s going on? You sound funny.”

Shaking my head, I try to lighten my tone. “Nothing, gossip queen. Listen, I’ve got to go.” The fall of steps on the stairs echoes through to the kitchen and I peer around the edge of the doorway. I wave to the doctor as he comes around into the kitchen.

“I’ll be sending some bills through to you. These are mine and payment needs to transfer from my personal bank account. Don’t put them through the Richards' finances.”

“Okay.” She doesn’t sound sure though.

I go to hang up, but then have another thought. “And can you tell Saskia I can’t make sushi on Tuesday?”

“Sure. Anything I can help with?”

“No. I’ve got to go.” I hang up before she can ask anything else. No one can know where I am. Especially not my father.

“Hi,” I say to the doctor. “Sorry, I was just discussing your payment with my secretary. Thanks for coming again. He seems better, doesn’t he?”

The doctor, Findlay, nods but his expression speaks volumes. “He should be in hospital, really.”

“I know. He would just rather be here. I can help and you can call again can’t you if we need more help?” This isn’t really a question at all. I’ll pay so he will call. It’s not up for discussion.

“He says he has no history of substance abuse, but I don’t know if I believe him. If that’s true though, you need to keep him on regular medication to allow him time to heal.”

“Yes.” I nod. I know this. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know four-hour painkillers were the only way to put on a normal face.

Findlay hesitates and his professional demeanour slips. “The young man upstairs seems deeply troubled. He needs help. I can refer him to a counsellor if you need it.” He pauses and lets out a breath. “Or he needs hospitalisation for mental instability. And I’d say soon.”

I nod understandingly, but my heart is hammering a rapid pace. It’s not like I haven’t thought it—but having him confirm my suspicions makes me uncomfortable inside. “I will let you know if I think we need the referral.”

“Within the next couple of days.”

I nod. Wow, he’s not taking this lightly.

“Yes.” I slide him the piece of paper with Melissa’s email on. “Can you bill me here please?”

Findlay nods and tucks it into his briefcase. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Regular painkillers.”

“And fluids.” I add.

He looks at me with interest before snapping his indifferent mask back into place.

I see him out and then run back up the stairs.

“What did he say? Am I going to make it?” Dan looks drowsy and sounds drunk.

“He says you’re an utter dickhead.”

He sneers but it’s half-hearted. “I could have told you that.”

Unable to stop myself, I step closer and run my hand across his hair. His eyes flutter shut almost instantly, and I assume Findlay has given him something for the pain.