Surrender My Love Read Online Free PDF Page B

nursing supervisor’s voice. In clipped tones Nurse Wall asked her to come in to work an hour early and report straight to Dr. Markson’s office. She said they needed to speak with her, but offered no details. Chloe numbly agreed then signed off the phone.
    Fear pounded in her brain, drumming along every nerve ending. She stood still, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. This was it. Dr. Markson was lodging a complaint. No doubt encouraged by Nurse Wall. Whenever an official complaint was lodged, the nurse had to be spoken to by the accuser and was required to sign official documentation. The next step would be speaking to Mrs. Pardon, her nursing director, to recommend her discharge.
    Seeming to sense her anxiety, Richard sidled up next to her. “ Is everything okay?”
    Chloe p ressed back the rush of tears, determined to be, as usual, the strong and steady rudder in the turbulent storm. She embraced her brother, clinging to his thin shoulders. Eventually she pulled back and offered him a synthetic smile.
    “Ice cream! Ice cream!”
    “Please start looking for a job, Richard. It’ll be fine.” Her head swerved towards the door to her mother’s room. She turned back to her brother and started to quickly run down her verbal list of reminders. Ignoring the insolent roll of his eyes, she headed to the bedroom to say goodbye to her mother.
     
     
    Brad stalked in to his medical suite, his steps muted on the plush burgundy carpet. The suite was traditionally appointed in sleek dark wood, imposing furniture, and expensive reproductions. It conveyed strength and unquestionable confidence—at least that’s what the decorator had told him. The expansive space of reception appeared to be a room in some stately mansion instead of an exclusive wing of a metropolitan hospital.
    Upon seeing him, his secretary rose from her des k and followed quickly, her short steps shuffling to match his long-legged stride.
    “You’re done with rounds already? Your next patient isn’t for an hour,” Bea asked as they entered his private office and approached his large mahogany desk.
    “I didn’t make i t to rounds,” he explained, circling his desk and picking up a stack of mail awaiting his attention.
    “What? Why not?” Irritation threaded through her voice.
    “I just didn’t, ” he mumbled, shuffling through envelopes. Peripherally he could see his secretary root a hand on her hip, getting ready to shower him with attitude. He held up one of the envelopes, recognizing the sender.
    “What’s this?” h e asked, looking into his secretary’s smooth, dark-brown face.
    “The invitation to the Omega Pharmaceuticals dinner. I told you it was coming. The dinner is in two weeks.”
    “I’m very selective about the lectures I attend. I’m not going.” With a flick of his wrist, he callously sent the envelope sailing onto his desk.
    “ Yes, you are.”
    “ It’s not really for cardiologists anyway. It’s a lecture on Alzheimer’s.”
    “I know, but I’ve already RSVP’d for you. A lot of your patients are elderly. Mr. John Fusso will be there. He called personally to ask if you’re attending. I think you have a seat reserved next to him.”
    He snorted at the mention of the wealthy investor , then made a face and continued flipping through the mail.
    “John’s just angling for an introduction to my parents. He wants in on their latest project. He’s an opportunist.”
    He heard Bea’s cell phone buzz in her pocket.
    “How’s Jason?” Bea had left work early the day before because her five year old son had a stomach flu.
    “He’s fine now, thanks, ” she said, but her face pinched with annoyance as she stared him down. She pressed some buttons on her phone as she spoke, then tucked it back into her pocket. “Hold up, you’re not getting off that easy. Don’t change the subject. What do you mean you didn’t make rounds?”
    “I had something else to take care of,” he grumbled.
    “ Great! Now I’ll