Possessive Doctor

“Do they live in Fort Knox or something? Are they aliens and you’re keeping the secret from me?” She grins a little. “Are you going to abduct me?”

“And probe you.”

“Okay, don’t be gross.”

“Sorry. No, it’s none of that. They’re just… look, they’re very wealthy, okay?”

“Wealthy.” She frowns. “That’s what rich people say when they’ve been rich for a long time.”

I don’t respond to her. I just give her a flat, level stare.

She doesn’t know the half of it. She has no clue what wealthy really means.

There are rich people in this world. People that don’t have to worry about money or really work if they don’t want to. Then there are people that have rich parents. They have some money too, but it’s not endless. Their grandkids likely won’t be rolling in it.

Then there are the select few in America that are truly, truly wealthy. The select few that have had money and land since this country was founded. The select, lucky few that have hoarded it all, saved it all, fought to keep every penny for generations. The select few that have bent policy to their will, made governments weep for their whims.

My family is one of those.

“Oookay,” she says. “That doesn’t change anything. If you don’t want to go, we won’t go.”

I step closer to her. “I’m going to do what’s best for you. And I know the best thing is to go to Lofthouse Manor.”

“Your house is named… after your family?”

“Of course.” I run a hand through my hair. “Really, my family is named for the house, if you want to be technical about it.”

“Lofthouse…” She raises an eyebrow. “Is it one big loft?”

“No. Sort of. Not really.” I clench my jaw. “Just listen, okay?”

“Okay. I’m listening.” She perches on a stool and blows on her coffee before drinking some again.

“My family is wealthy. Obscenely wealthy. But we don’t exactly get along.”

“So we don’t have to—”

I interrupt her. “But that doesn’t matter. Lofthouse Manor is like… a fortress. My parents are incredibly paranoid. Private security, private staff, cameras all over. We’ll be safe there. I might argue with my parents, but we’ll be safe.”

She lets out a breath. “Brent…”

“I know I’m making this harder than I need to.” I walk over to her and take her hands. “But after last night, I’m sure we need to go.”

“If you want to do this, I’ll come with you. But I just want to make it clear that I’m okay with anything else.”

“I know you are.” I smile at her. “But you don’t have much of a choice. You don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“No, I do not. And I don’t have any clean clothes.” She looks down at herself.

“Ah, well, I took care of that. A little bit, at least.” I walk over to a bag and open it. Inside are a bunch of new bras, underwear, and some shirts and pants. “More or less your size. I had to guess.”

“Where did you get all that?”

“Called in an order last night and had it delivered this morning.”

“What… how?”

I give her a flat stare. “Obscenely wealthy family, remember? That’s the sort of shit rich people love to do. Bending the rules, making things happen that otherwise shouldn’t.”

She chews on her lip then walks over and looks inside. She picks out some underwear, a plain sweatshirt, and a pair of shorts. “These should work.”

“Go get changed. We’ll leave when you’re done.”

“Can I shower?”

“Sure. Probably a good idea. It’s a long drive to Virginia.”

Her eyes go wide. “We’re driving to Virginia?”

“Yep.” I laugh a little bit. “It’ll be fun.”

“I’m not sure you know what that word means.”

I look at her, a little smile on my lips. “Oh, I definitely do.”

She shakes her head but gets upstairs with my help. She showers and I pack the truck. When she’s done, she comes back down and smiles. She’s wearing the new clothes, simple shorts and a black fitted crew neck sweatshirt, and they fit pretty good. She looks fresh and gorgeous, although she’s leaning on a cane.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Ready. Come on.”

We head outside. I help her down the steps and toward the truck. As we go, she glances over at the ax lodged in the tree stump.

“Is that… my phone?”

“It was at one time, yes.”

“You murdered my phone.”

“We’ll get you a new one on the trip.”

“But… my phone. It’s murdered. You ax murdered my phone.”

I laugh and help her up into the truck. “I did what I had to do.”

I shut the door and climb into the driver’s side.

“I’d hate to be on your bad side,” she says.

I just smile, start the engine, and pull out.* * *“It’s only a twenty hour drive,” I say about four hours into the first day.

“Wait—what?”

“Twenty hours,” I repeat. “And we’re doing it in two stretches.”

She groans and rubs her leg. “No way.”