Fix Me

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, and practically ran from the room.

That had been stupid. Paul could have been the one to walk in. I didn’t want to embarrass her or myself. Paul was a powerful man. He could ruin me. He could start rumors, give me a bad reference or even accuse me of rape. I had to remember she was my client. If she wasn’t interested in getting the surgery, I needed to find another job. It was clear I couldn’t be away from her.

I walked to the cottage, still feeling a little freaked out about what could have happened. I would have to be more careful in the future. The stolen kisses were one thing, but sex in her bedroom was another. I walked through the door at the same time my cell phone rang.

“Hello,” I answered, recognizing Austin’s number.

“What are you doing right now?” he asked.

“Right this minute I just walked through the door. Why? What’s up?”

“Let’s go out,” he said.

I laughed. “If by out, you mean to your house, no thanks. I’m still recovering from the last night at your place.”

“This is a benefit thing. I need a date.”

I scoffed. “I don’t want to be your date. Thanks.”

“Come on, I need a wingman. I need someone to talk to that won’t ask me for money or a job.”

I laughed. “You poor thing.”

“Do you have a tux?”

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. “No, I don’t have a tux. I’m a normal person. Normal people don’t have tuxes in their closet. Only rich guys do.”

“You can borrow one of mine,” he said without missing a beat.

I groaned. “When?”

“Get your ass over here now. I’ll call my tailor and have him do a quick job on the tux.”

It wasn’t like I had anything better to do. “Fine, but I’m not drinking.”

“There will be champagne. Drink responsibly and you’ll fine.”

I chuckled at the thought of me drinking irresponsibly. He had been the one to pressure me into drinking the hard stuff. Not that I protested a whole hell of a lot. “I’ll be there in thirty. I need to jump in the shower first.”

“Hurry up,” he said before ending the call.

I had attended benefits before for my old hospital, but they weren’t swanky. They were low-key events made semi-mandatory for the staff that who were then asked to pony up our hard-earned cash to essentially pay ourselves. It never made a lot of sense. I hopped in the shower, my mind going back to Bree.

I felt like shit for making her feel so bad. She was battling some demons and I didn’t know how to help her. I didn’t want to pressure her to get the surgery and I didn’t want to let it go. She was feeling insecure. I wasn’t sure how to address that. All I could do was let her know how much I cared about her.

Part of me blamed her father. He saw her as broken and she knew it. The more he thought of her as something to fix, the worse she felt. She had confided in me about fearing for her father’s wellbeing if something should happen to her. It was noble and sweet, and Paul had no idea what she was doing for him.

I finished showering, did a quick shave and dressed in shorts and a tee. I had worn a tux exactly one time in my life—at prom. I owed Austin a favor and figured putting on a tux and shaking hands with a few rich people was the least I could do.

When I arrived at Austin’s, I was ushered into a spare room, stripped down to my boxers and stuffed into a tux. All the while, an old, Italian man complained about being rushed to do his job. Austin popped his head in and burst into laughter. “We’re even after this,” I growled.

He wrinkled his nose. “Maybe.”

“Do you want a drink?” he asked.

“No. I’m staying sober. I can’t be dragging my ass in all hungover again.”

“How much longer, Dino?” Austin asked.