The Ruthless Caleb Wilde

Caleb’s jaw tightened. Her face was the color of milk, just as it had been after the attack that night.

She walked toward the nurse. Caleb hesitated, then fell in behind her. The nurse raised an eyebrow.

“And you are—”

“Caleb Wilde. I’m the attorney of record.”

“Not my record,” Sage said coldly.

“I represent the client who ordered this test.”

“And?” the nurse said politely.

And, Caleb thought, what in hell are you doing, Wilde?

“And,” he said, in his best courtroom voice, “I’m going to sit in with Ms. Dalton until it’s time for the procedure.”

The nurse looked at Sage. “Ms. Dalton?”

Sage shot him a look filled with hatred.

“He wants to make sure I don’t change my mind and go out the back door.”

“That’s not—”

“Of course it is,” she said. “Sit in, by all means, Mr. Wilde, while I do whatever it takes to get you out of my life.”

The doctor’s consulting room was small and efficient.

The doctor was the same.

She shook hands with both of them, motioned them into chairs across from hers.

“Are you sure you want to permit Mr. Wilde to be present during our chat, Sage?”

Sage shrugged her shoulders.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Her voice was low. Not quite as steady as before.

“Well, then,” Fein said, picking up the papers Sage had filled out, “give me a moment to look these over.”

Fein began to read. Sage sat straight in her chair, feet together, hands folded in her lap.

Caleb watched her. Little bits of her self-control were slipping. She was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. Rubbing one thumb over the other.

Now, she was trembling.

Something twisted inside him.

“Sage?” he said softly.

She looked at him. He cleared his throat.

“Are you all right?”

Now she looked at him as if he were insane.