His eyes drift to my desk. “Oh, is that the Hoffman report?”
He leans over to grab it, but as he does, his hand brushes along my shoulder. It’s subtle, even as it’s not, especially when he lingers on my skin just a beat longer than is appropriate.
It feels like even the blood in my veins crawls at his touch. And I don’t breathe until he moves back, clutching the folder in his hand. “I wouldn’t mind having a look at this before we sit down for the call. Thanks, Alexis.”
I grit my teeth. “Of course, but I prefer being called Lexi.”
His eyes are bright in a way that feels threatening, even though he is not doing anything. Everything about this man just pisses me off.
“Sorry. I forget. Your real name is so pretty. I don’t understand why you don’t use it.”
There it is again. A comment wrapped in silk even though the paper covering it is barbed. My skin itches. “Lexi is fine.”
“I’ll see you in the boardroom later,” he says before he skulks off to his corner of the floor.
I sink down into my chair, the headache blooming behind my eyes growing stronger. My skin feels wrong where he touched me.
Tasha pops her head around the side of my cubicle. “He is such a dick,” she hisses. “I’m starting to think he’s calling you that to rile you.”
I rub my gritty eyes. I would give anything to be back in bed right now. “He’s just a small man with a small personality.”
She studies me. “Are you okay? You look pale.”
“I’m fine. Just a rough night and… Now a rough day.”
She doesn’t believe me. I can tell by the way her brow inches slightly up her forehead, but she also doesn’t call me on it, which I appreciate.
As soon as it hits 1 PM, I’m out of my chair, shrugging into my jacket as I move toward the elevator. My appointment is at 1:15 PM, which means I’m going to be cutting it close to get there. My legs are already tired, my body drained, but somehow I push through and arrive at the clinic winded with two minutes to spare.
Then they make me wait an additional five minutes on top of that before my name is called. I’m sitting on the edge of the table, my legs swinging slightly when Dr. Singh walks in. She’s been my physician for the last four years, and so her brows come together when she sees me.
“You look terrible. You’re not feeling well?”
She immediately grabs the thermometer out of the drawer, pressing it against my forehead until it beeps.
“I’m not just being dramatic when I say this, Dr. Singh, but I feel like I’ve been chewed up and spat back out.”
She makes a low rumbling sound in the back of her throat, swapping the thermometer out for a blood pressure cuff. “Symptoms?”
I snort. “Where do you want me to start? Nausea, tiredness—I’m so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open. I nearly fell asleep yesterday at my desk, which, if you knew my boss, would be a really bad idea.”
The cuff tightens around my bicep, squeezing the bone to the point of pain.
“Any headaches? Have you actually been sick? How’s your appetite?”
“Yeah to headaches. And no. I haven’t thrown up, although I’ve wanted to. And my appetite is trash.” I stare at the machine as the numbers climb. “Do you think it’s a virus?”
“I’m not sure yet.” She turns to look at computer, scanning through my notes. “You had a Mirena fitted three years ago… You’ve not had that taken out, have you?”
“Nope,” I pop the P.
“Right.” She smiles. “Let’s get a urine sample to start, and then look at bloods after that. Find out what is going on.”
She hands me a pot with a smile and I slide off the table to use the adjacent bathroom. As I’m peeing, all I can think is Casey is going to go ballistic when he finds out I came to the doctor and didn’t tell him. But what exactly am I going to tell him? I don’t know anything yet.
I return to the room, handing over my pee like it’s contraband, and Dr. Singh carries it to the counter at the back of the room.
I slide back onto the table, the paper crinkling beneath me, and check the time. If I’m late back, James will set fire to my desk.
