Seduced By The Hero

“Yes,” she said, glancing at the sheets of paper attached to a metal clipboard. “Your CT scan was normal, and you don’t seem to have any lingering effects from the concussion. But I’d like you to see the hospital psychologist before I discharge you.”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

“I strongly advise you not to leave. You suffered a traumatic event less than twenty-four hours ago, and it’s imperative you speak to a professional to discuss the attack.”

“I concur,” Detective Sluggs said, stroking his bushy mustache with tender loving care.

Dionne glanced from the detective to the doctor and rolled her eyes to show her frustration. They were giving her a headache, and she was anxious to get away from them. Determined to leave the hospital, whether or not the doctor signed the discharge papers, Dionne searched the room for her clothes. Her Escada pantsuit was probably ripped and dirty, but it was all she had. Besides, she wasn’t going to a black-tie event at the W hotel; she would be headed to her office. By the time she arrived at Pathways Center, her staff would be gone for the day, so she wouldn’t have to worry about anyone seeing her bruised face.

“I have to return to the precinct, but if you remember anything else about the attack, don’t hesitate to contact me.” Detective Sluggs promised to be in touch and left the room.

Finally. I thought he’d never leave. Dionne checked the time on the clock. Immanuel should be back any minute now. For some reason, the thought of seeing him again excited her and made a smile balloon inside her heart. He’d spent the entire afternoon with her, and talking to him about her career had momentarily taken her mind off the assault. Though he was serious and soft-spoken, he made her laugh and told amusing stories about his life in Venice. He’d offered to go to the store for her, and Dionne eagerly awaited his return, because once he arrived with the items she’d requested, she was leaving. She was tired of being in the hospital and was anxious to leave, but first she had to get Dr. Pelayo off her back. “I don’t need to talk to anyone,” she said, speaking calmly, in her most serious voice. “I have a master’s degree in psychology, and I know what to do to preserve my mental health. Now, kindly bring the discharge papers so I can sign them and leave.”

The silence was so loud it drowned out every other noise in the room. Sunshine seeped through the window blinds, filling the drab, boring space with light, but it did nothing to brighten Dionne’s mood. She was frustrated that Dr. Pelayo wasn’t listening to her and was losing patience.

“Very well,” the doctor said after a long moment. “If you insist.”

“Thank you, Dr. Pelayo. I appreciate everything you and your staff have done for me.”

“I’ll have the discharge papers waiting at the front desk within the hour. Who will be picking you up and driving you home?”

Confusion must have shown on Dionne’s face, because Dr. Pelayo continued.

“Someone has to pick you up upon discharge and escort you out of the building,” she explained, tucking her clipboard under her arm. “The policy was put in place decades ago to ensure that all patients at Atlanta Medical Center remain safe after their stay—”

“I’m not a child,” Dionne argued. “And I won’t be treated like one.”

The intercom came on, and the women fell silent.

Sitting in bed, doing a slow burn, Dionne pictured herself jumping out her fifth-floor window and running away from the hospital. Who do I have to bribe to get the hell out of here? she wondered, trying to keep her temper at bay. And who came up with this stupid discharge policy? It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, and I won’t adhere to it.

“I have to release you into the care of a loved one, preferably someone who can stay with you for the rest of the day.” Dr. Pelayo’s face softened with concern. “Victims often feel fearful after an attack, so it’s important you’re not alone over the next twenty-four hours. Isn’t there a friend or family member I can call to pick you up?”

“I don’t want anyone hovering over me. I’d rather be alone.”

“I understand, Mrs. Fontaine, and I’m not trying to be difficult, but it’s hospital policy, and if I break the rules I could lose my job.”

Disappointed, Dionne collapsed against the pillows. Will this nightmare ever end?

Chapter 4 (#ulink_89b928e2-6b27-5d51-9264-a0f8c031ae0f)

Dionne had no argument left in her and reluctantly gave up the fight. Arguing with Dr. Pelayo wasn’t helping her cause, so she considered her options. She thought of calling a taxi to pick her up, but remembered she had no purse, no wallet, no money. Phoning her assistant or one of her senior life coaches was out of the question. She didn’t want anyone to know about the attack and hoped to keep it a secret. Sharleen was in Fiji with Emilio, her sisters were home with their kids and her parents were at work. Though retired, they both worked part-time to stave off boredom, but Dionne knew if she called them they’d drop everything and rush to the hospital. The problem was, she didn’t want them there. She felt ashamed, embarrassed that the mugger had attacked her, and wanted to put the whole ugly incident behind her as quickly as possible.

“Please reconsider calling your husband,” Dr. Pelayo urged. “I understand that you’re separated, but you need his love and support now more than ever.”

No, I don’t. I need a glass of Muscat and a hot bubble bath.

“Tragedies have a way of reminding us what’s important in life and bring us even closer to the people we love. I think your husband would want to be here with you.”

A sharp knock on the door drew Dionne’s gaze across the room. Immanuel entered in all of his masculine glory and nodded politely in greeting. Dionne stared at him. So did Dr. Pelayo. The physician was wearing a dreamy expression on her face, one that indicated she was head over heels in lust. Immanuel had that effect on everyone—nurses, housekeeping, doctors—and seemed oblivious to the commotion he caused whenever he entered a room. That made him all the more appealing in her eyes.

“Sorry I took so long to return. Traffic was crazy on the freeway...”

He spoke quietly in a smooth, sexy tone. His voice was seductive, his cologne, too, and when their eyes met Dionne had to remind herself to breathe. He moved with confidence, like a man who had the world at his feet—and he probably did.

“How are you feeling?”

Better now that you’re here, she thought, but didn’t say. Immanuel was the calm in the midst of the storm, and Dionne was glad he was back. “Almost as good as new.”

Immanuel was holding a shopping bag in one hand and a garment bag with the Gucci logo in the other. He placed both items on the bed. “These are for you. I hope you like them.”

“What’s all this? All I asked for was shampoo and body wash.”

“You’re going home today, and I figured you’d need something nice to wear.”

The shopping bag was filled with sweet-smelling toiletries, everything from deodorant to scented oils and perfume. Dionne unzipped the garment bag, and a gasp fell from her mouth. A navy pantsuit, and a silk scarf were inside. Inside the shopping bag was a shoe box with black red-heeled pumps.

Dionne couldn’t believe it, thought she was dreaming with her eyes open. How did Immanuel know her size? Who’d told him that Gucci was her favorite designer? She’d tried on the same outfit last week at Saks Fifth Avenue, but couldn’t justify spending thousands of dollars on clothes when Jules was fighting her about money. Touching the lapel of the jacket, she admired the intricate design along the collar of the white ruffled blouse, then quickly re-zipped the bag. “Immanuel, I can’t keep this. It’s too expensive.”

“It’s a gift.”

“But it cost forty-five hundred dollars.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, his tone firm. “You had a rough night, and I think you deserve to leave the hospital in style. Don’t fight me on this.”

Dr. Pelayo’s eyes lit up, and Dionne knew the physician was impressed. So was she. Not because of the staggering cost of the outfit, but because Immanuel—someone she’d just met—had done something kind for her, something her ex never did. Jules had relied on his secretary to buy her gifts, even had her sign the cards on his behalf, regardless of the occasion. If Jules had been more thoughtful and attentive, our marriage wouldn’t have fallen apart—

“Have you been discharged?” Immanuel asked.

Dionne blinked and broke free of her thoughts. “No, not yet, but I’m working on it.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Before Dionne could answer, Dr. Pelayo told Immanuel about the hospital discharge policy and expressed her opinion on the matter. “Mrs. Fontaine is going to need a lot of emotional support in the coming weeks, so it’s imperative she reach out to her friends and family for help,” the doctor explained. “I’m trying to convince her to call her husband.”

Immanuel turned to Dionne.

The heat of his gaze left her breathless and tingling all over. Dionne smoothed a hand over her hair, and winced when she felt tangles in her wavy dark locks. Is that why Immanuel’s staring at me? Because I look a hot mess?

“Is that what you want? For Dr. Pelayo to call your husband?”

Hell no. Knowing her response would raise eyebrows, she swallowed her retort and shook her head. Dionne wasn’t calling Jules, and she wished Dr. Pelayo would stop pressuring her to do so. Besides, Jules would never come pick her up. Work was all that mattered, all he cared about, and that would never change.

“I can drive you home.”

Dionne met his gaze. “You can?”

“It would be my pleasure.”