Eli pressed his lips to my ear, whispering like he was saying something sexy. “Cyanide requires a specific antidote to save you. But you’ll be dead long before he figures out which poison you ingested.”
He did that on purpose, I realized. Wanted to kill me in front of Blake, in a way where Blake would know I was dying and wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Wouldn’t be able to diagnose it fast enough. All while slipping Blake poison too.
I tried to pull away, but my muscles had turned to water. Through dimming vision, I watched the man and Blake continue talking, unaware I was actively dying.
He shoved me away suddenly, and I felt myself falling. The edges of my vision went black, and as I crashed to the ground, one last coherent thought raced through my heart a second before everything went black.
I need to warn Blake.
68
BLAKE
I glanced back at Tessa, praying my face didn’t betray my raw disdain for Eli. I didn’t want to be that guy. The perpetually threatened boyfriend who couldn’t handle his girlfriend’s past. Yet here I was, wrestling with an inflammation of jealousy I couldn’t seem to suppress.
That’s what this had to be, right? Jealousy?
Having never been in a relationship before, I had no reference point for this visceral urge to insert myself between them, to create distance. This burning need to separate them.
Okay, fine. I also had the urge to relocate his teeth.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.
“Two glasses of champagne.”
“Dr. Morrison.” Dr. Elias Vaughn, chief of surgery, appeared to my left. His steady hands, more accustomed to scalpels than scotch glasses, held his drink with the same precision he brought to the OR. Even here, amid the wedding’s exuberance, his presence commanded attention—the kind of authority that could make or break careers.
Case in point: he was a commanding force on the committee choosing the new chief of emergency medicine.
“Dr. Vaughn,” I said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Father of the groom and I go way back.” He swirled his scotch, ice clinking against crystal. “You know how it is. Hospital board, country club, the circles overlap. You?”
“My girlfriend is the wedding planner.” I motioned toward the vision in emerald.
“Girlfriend.” His eyebrows lifted, but his expression remained calculated. “I was under the impression the—what do they call you, Iceman? —didn’t have a girlfriend.”
“I suppose things change.”
“They certainly do.” He studied me over the rim of his glass, gaze sharp despite the casual setting. “The committee has been following your career closely, Blake. Your outcomes data is exceptional. Lowest mortality rate in the ER’s history, and your residents’ success rates are unprecedented.”
“Thank you.”
“You know what impresses the board most? Your consistency. Crisis after crisis, you maintain absolute clarity. Take last month’s bus accident. You orchestrated that response like conducting a symphony. No emotional decisions, no protocol exceptions. Pure, clinical efficiency.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Do you know how rare that is? Most chiefs eventually crack. They start making exceptions, letting emotion cloud their judgment. One tearful family member, one child that reminds them of their own, and suddenly, they’re bending protocols, reallocating resources based on heart rather than head. Bad for the bottom line. Plus, they expose the hospital to liability. One emotional disclosure to a grieving family, one promise we can’t legally keep. The ripple effects are devastating.”
“And that strict adherence to protocols, does that drive better patient outcomes?”
Silence. For several seconds.
“One could assume so,” he allowed.
Unbelievable.Assumeso. Why hadn’t they studied patient outcomes to the extent they did the financial benefits? Weren’t we here to serve patients first?
I took a slow sip of my drink, buying time to choose my words carefully. “And if that approach isn’t always what’s best for the patient?”
He studied me for a long moment. “Are you suggesting your methods haven’t been effective?”
“I’m suggesting that medicine isn’t one size fits all. Sometimes, protocols need adaptation. Sometimes, listening to instinct, or, yes, emotion, leads to better outcomes.”
