The head nurse looked like a cornered rat. She pressed her lips together, weighing whatever resistance she might receive from her superiors against the obscene amount of money involved.
The scales weren't even close to being balanced.
She gave a terse nod. "Very well, I'll do my best." An unyielding glare. "Just understand that you're forfeiting Mr. Karr's right to medication. None can be administered without my supervision."
"I'll do one better than understanding it. Put it in writing."
"Excuse me?"
"I said, add that to the document you prepare. It's more than fine with me. In fact, I insist. Because, as I specified, Mr. Karr is to receive no, I repeat, no medication. Not only is he highly allergic, as his records indicate, but he becomes extremely agitated when he even sees pills, needles, or intravenous equipment. He's had terrible experiences with all of them. So include that in your document. It will protect Mr. Karr, and it will protect you against a crushing malpractice suit."
"I suppose that can be done." Miss Rivers seemed to perk up at that suggestion, probably because Victoria had just given her a great way to stifle the flack she was about to receive. Malpractice protection—it was the perfect out.
"So that eliminates our final obstacle," Victoria concluded.
"Yes, apparently it does." Gloria Rivers regarded Mr. Karr's counsel with more than a touch of admiration, silently recognizing that Catherine Hughes had her over a barrel. The woman was a pro, just as her background check had revealed. "Why don't you have a seat with your client, Ms. Hughes? I'll leave the paperwork for you two to review. Beatrice will stay; I'm sure Mr. Karr will find her presence reassuring. I won't be long."
Nodding, Victoria went over to the conference table to give her client the welcome news, while Miss Rivers hovered near the doorway, tapping her foot and awaiting Beatrice's return.
"Where's Mother?" Zach demanded instantly, jumping to his feet. "Why isn't she ..." He broke off as Beatrice hurried back into the room, a dampened washcloth in her hand.
"Here we go." She sat down next to Zach, gesturing for him to take his seat, and angling her chair so she could face him. Once he'd complied, she mopped his brow with the washcloth. Simultaneously, her trained fingers found the pulse at his wrist, checking to see just how agitated he was. "Is your heart racing a little?" she murmured.
"It was. It's slowing now."
"Good. Just sit and relax. I'll stay with you." Her glance flickered quickly from Victoria to Miss Rivers. The head nurse issued a terse nod to Beatrice's unspoken question.
Satisfied that everything had been settled, Beatrice continued speaking to Zach in a soothing tone. "Ms. Hughes has some papers to go over with you. After that, Til take you to your room. Is that all right?"
His entire body seemed to sag with relief. "Yes. That's great." An enormous sigh. "I'm so glad you're here."
That seemed to clinch it for Miss Rivers. She snapped into action, crossing over to the table and producing a manila file folder, which she handed to Victoria. "I'll see to that new document. I won't be long."
She shut the door behind her.
As agreed, Zach, Victoria, and Beatrice stayed in character. They had no idea whether or not they could be seen or heard. And they didn't intend to find out the hard way.
Victoria settled herself on Zach's opposite side. She opened her briefcase, taking out a copy of the power of attorney she'd forwarded to the Institute, along with evaluations by two of the fictitious doctors the FBI had conjured up for Karr's medical records—evaluations stating that, in their opinion, David Karr was harmless to himself and to others, and required only several months in a stress-free environment to facilitate his recovery. Listening with half an ear as Beatrice spoke quietly and gently to her patient, Victoria set aside her papers and began methodically sifting through the Hope Institute's legal documents.
None of them was a surprise. They were replicas of the boilerplates she'd copied from her father's computer. With one difference.
Rather than a blank line at the end of each document, her father's signature was penned neatly in the spaces provided.
Swallowing her nausea, she handed the papers to Zach one at a time while briefly explaining the terms and conditions. He gave an occasional absent nod and scanned a page here and there. Mostly, his gaze kept darting to Beatrice to ensure she hadn't left.
Finally, having finished reviewing the documents, Victoria folded each one over to its respective last page— the page with the signature lines. She then laid out the documents in a row, waiting for Miss Rivers's return so they could be properly executed and witnessed.
She'd just completed arranging her lineup when Miss Rivers reentered the room, a single-sheet document in her hand.
"The agreement you requested has been drawn up," she said, looking flustered, as if she'd been through the mill. "It's ready for your perusal."
"Good," Victoria replied. She extended her hand, took the sheet of paper, and pored over it.
The terms of the agreement, as per her instructions, provided that, for a period of two weeks' time and barring any unforeseen circumstances beyond the Institute's reasonable control, Beatrice Groves would be David Karr's sole medical attendant, and that for the duration of that time, Mr. Karr would not be permitted to receive medication of any kind and in any form, including intravenous. Any extension of the agreement had to be in writing, signed by Walter Kensington for the Hope Institute, and Catherine Hughes for David Karr, as per his power of attorney. Compensation for the specified considerations was an initial payment of $25,000, plus $10,000 per week for each week that Beatrice Groves acted as exclusive caretaker for David Karr, the entire amount of which was in addition to the agreed-upon monthly sum of $250,000.
Everything appeared to be in order except that, in this case, the bold line at the bottom designated "Walter Kensington, Esq., Attorney of Record, Hope Institute," was lacking a signature.
"Your attorney will be executing this?" Victoria inquired in a tight, crisp voice.
"Of course. His office faxed us this copy for your approval. As soon as you've given it to us, a duplicate set of originals, signed by Mr. Kensington, will be prepared and messengered to the Institute. You'll have them before leaving Mr. Karr in our care."
"Very well." Another quick glance at the page. "Everything appears to be in order. Have Mr. Kensington deliver the executed originals." Victoria nearly choked on her father's name. "I'll sign your standard papers, in the interim."
"I'll act as your witness. Give me a minute to call Mr. Kensington's office." Gloria Rivers left the room, returning a minute later to join them at the conference table. "Everything's been arranged."
"Then I'll sign these and let Miss Groves get Mr. Kan-settled in."
Zach began rubbing his trouser legs again, sniffing uneasily as he did. "Did you arrange for my mother to be the only one taking care of me?" he asked Victoria. "Otherwise, I'm not staying."
"I did, Mr. Karr. She'll be your sole caretaker," Victoria told him reassuringly. "I'll sign the papers and you can go to your room—with your mother."
He looked quickly at Beatrice for corroboiation. She gave it, giving his arm a gentle pat. His sniffing stopped, and he stopped rubbing his trousers, sitting quietly while Victoria completed her business.
Gritting her teeth, Victoria signed each document with the new handwriting she'd mastered, and passed it to Miss Rivers for witnessing. Each time she wrote "Catherine Hughes," she stared at her father's signature beside it and felt a knot of betrayal twist inside her.
Dear God, Father, what have you done? How deeply involved are you? How much have you thrown away—and for what?
None of her inner turmoil showed on her face as she passed the final document to Miss Rivers. "That's everything but the new agreement."
The head nurse examined the forms. "They're all in order."
Beside Victoria, Zach began fidgeting again. "Do I need to wait for all the legal details to be ironed out?
I'm tired. I didn't sleep well last night. And as long as my mother's taking care of me, the rest doesn't matter." That slightly frantic look returned to his eyes. "I really need to be away from all this commotion, all these people. I need to lie down, to be in my room."
Gloria Rivers assessed him with a practiced eye. Victoria could almost read her thoughts: too much stimuli. Patient is showing symptoms of stress.
"There's no reason for you to wait," the head nurse replied. A quick, consenting signal to Beatrice. "Why don't you take Mr. Karr to his room? Ms. Hughes can wait here until the agreement arrives. She'll sign it and be on her way."
Beatrice rose. "Good idea." She helped Zach to his feet and led him over to the wheelchair. "Come, Mr.... David," she corrected, remembering who she was supposed to be. "I'll take you upstairs. You've got a lovely, sunny room on the second floor. It's nice and big; there's more than enough room for a cot. I'll have one sent up for me immediately."
"Good." He sank into the wheelchair, looking utterly drained. 'Then you'll stay with me while I nap."
"I'll be right there. And when you wake up, we'll have lunch."
"In my room," he qualified. "No more people."
"In your room. Just the two of us." She maneuvered the wheelchair toward the door.
"Get well soon, Mr. Karr," Victoria called. "I'll be back next week for a visit."
"Hmm? Okay, But I'll be fine. My mother's here . . ." Zach's head was already drooping when Beatrice wheeled him out of the room.
* * *
31
Victoria tossed and turned all night.
The bed was unbearably empty without Zach in it. And the knot in her stomach was even more unbearable.
She was up before dawn, sitting in the hotel suite's cozy dining area, drinking coffee.
The rest of the admission process had gone like clockwork. Miss Rivers had acted as her sentry for the half hour until the agreement arrived. The originals, complete with her father's signature, had been delivered to the conference room, where they'd been signed by Catherine Hughes, witnessed by Gloria Rivers, and added to the stack of papers Victoria packed in her briefcase when she left.
Atkins had asked a few questions, then delivered her back to the service entrance of the Plaza Athene'e, where she'd transformed herself back into Victoria Kensington— minus her engagement ring, which she slipped into her purse for later—and dashed off to Waters, Kensington, Tatem & Calder.
Walking into her father's firm that day had been one of the hardest things she'd ever done. Facing him would have been even harder.
Thankfully, she hadn't had to. He'd been at lunch when she arrived, then tied up in meetings all afternoon. She'd spent most of the afternoon with Ian Block, helping him research a corporate litigation case he was handling. Ian was his usual charming, sharp-edged self, challenging her legal knowledge at every turn—whether to instruct her or test her abilities, she wasn't sure.
He had thrown her off balance once. And it hadn't been in their legal discussions. It had been when he'd asked her about Zach.
"We haven't had much occasion to talk since Saturday night's party," he'd said lightly, leaning back in his desk chair. "So tell me, are you and Zachary Hamilton an item?"
Victoria had been perched at the edge of Ian's desk, her pen gripped between her teeth as she skimmed some pages that had just come off the printer. She lowered the pages, removed the pen from her teeth, and arched her brows. "An item?"
Ian's smile was rueful. "Am I overstepping?"
"That depends. Why do you want to know? Idle curiosity, friendly interest, or harmful intent?"
His smile vanished, and a cool sort of wariness came over him. "Meaning?"
"Meaning, don't bother keeping track of my social life to score points with my father. I'm an adult. I go out with whomever I choose to. My father never interferes. Nor does he worry that my work will suffer. He knows better. Besides, he's already aware I'm seeing Zach. So there's no mileage there."
The wariness disappeared as quickly as it had come, and a spark of dry humor flickered in Ian's eyes. "Interesting," he murmured, hunching forward to prop his elbows on the desk. "Now that particular course of action never occurred to me. Although I suppose it should have. Your father is extremely proud of you. He thinks you're a brilliant attorney. That was obvious Saturday night. I imagine he'd view very few men as being worthy of you. If I brought to his attention that you were seeing one of those unworthy men, then helped him do away with the cad, I'm sure it would earn me high marks."
Normally, Victoria would have been amused by Ian's caustic wit. Today she hadn't been.
"I'm beat, Ian," she'd said, coming to her feet. "I don't mean to be abrupt, but it's been a long week and I'm not in the mood to spar. Can we please get back to work?"
"As you wish." He'd eyed her speculatively. "Any answer to my question?"
"Why are you interested in Zach? From what I gathered, you two don't even know each other."
"We don't. Other than through reputation and other Harvard alumni."
"Then why the questions?" Victoria had shot him a taunting look of her own. "Unless, of course, you were thinking of asking me out?"
"And if I was?"
That had elicited a smile. "You're too smart for that. Fraternizing with Walter Kensington's daughter? Too risky. If we broke up and things got messy, it could ruin your chances at that big office down the hall."
Ian had chuckled. "I suppose you're right." A shrug. "My loss."
"More likely, your gain. At least that's what you're hoping—career-wise, that is." Victoria finished glancing through the printed pages, marking the pertinent points. "Good luck in your quest. After a week here, I can still confirm I don't want that partnership. It's all yours." She'd handed him the highlighted pages. "Look at the bright side. I'd be terrible for you, anyway. I'm not the lady-on-the-arm-of-a-successful-megabucks-attorney type. I'm independent. I have my own ideas and my own legal practice. Our schedules would clash. So would our priorities. Oh, and I'm a lousy cook."
Laughter had rumbled in Ian's chest. "I'm relieved. Now I won't feel so deprived on my lonely trek to the top."
"I doubt it'll be lonely." She headed for the door, to return to her own office and to continue the on-line research she'd been conducting. "You'll just be smart enough to choose the right companion along the way."
He would, too. One thing about Ian, he had his life plan in order. Whatever woman he eventually selected as his mate would fit right into it. His professional future would come first—always. And his partner would love that idea. She'd be beautiful, poised and elegant, and happy to spend Ian's money, appear on his arm, and bask in his limelight. The perfect trophy wife.
Well, that description sure as hell didn't fit her.
So much for the prospect of Ian being interested in her. And hopefully, so much for his questions about her and Zach, whatever his reasons were for asking them. He'd know the status of their relationship soon enough—after she told her father. Which she wasn't ready to do at this tenuous time. In fact, she wasn't ready to speak with him at all.
To that end, she'd spent the rest of her hours at Waters, Kensington, Tatem & Calder closeted in her office so she wouldn't run into him. At four-thirty, she'd shot out of there like a bat out of hell, after explaining to Ian that she had a late-afternoon meeting at her own firm.
That hadn't been a lie.
Victoria took another sip of coffee, smiling a little as she remembered the scene she'd created when she'd burst into London, Kensington & Stone, thrilled to find that both her partners, as well as Paige, were still there.
She'd paused outside the door just long enough to slip her engagement ring back on before marching in to deliver her announcement.
It didn't take a prophet to figure out who'd notice the ring first.
"Oh my God." Paige had slammed down the phone on whoever she'd been talking to, and practically lunged across the front desk to grab Victoria's hand. "It's gorgeous! And it's
huge! It must be two carats. I bet he got it at Tiffany's. It screams Tiffany's. Am I right?" She didn't wait for an answer. "I knew this was coming. I could tell by the way he looked at you, and the way you've been mooning around. I knew it!" She twisted around to shout, "Paul! Meg! It's urgent! Get out here right away!"
They'd exploded out of their offices simultaneously, practically colliding in the secretarial area.
"Jesus, Paige, it's just Victoria," Paul had said in exasperation. "What if I'd be in there with a client, and you—"
"It's not just Victoria," Paige had interrupted, holding Victoria's hand high in the air, displaying it as if it were the Heisman trophy. "It's Victoria and this." She whirled back to Victoria, her blue eyes wide. "Did you know this was coming? How did he propose? Did he get down on one knee? That would be so cool, and so romantic. But Zach's the romantic type. I could tell by the way he demanded to see you when he first walked in, then ignored my protests and marched right down to your office. Meg says you two have been in love forever. She didn't want to tell me, but I dragged it out of her. Wow, Victoria, that's like something out of a movie. When's the wedding? And what about your honeymoon? Are you going to an island, or—"
"Paige!" Paul bellowed. But he was grinning as he silenced her, rolling his eyes good-naturedly as he walked by her desk to inspect Victoria's ring for himself. "This is for real then," he said, giving Victoria a questioning look.
"Very for real." It was the first time Victoria had spoken since Hurricane Paige had descended. "And you guys are the first to know." She'd accepted Paul's hug, then gazed past him, watching as Meg walked over, a huge smile on her face. "Go ahead," Victoria had invited, "say 'I told you so.' "
"No way. I'd rather say I'm so happy for you." Meg hugged her. "But I am glad you came to your senses," she'd muttered for Victoria's ears alone. "Where's Zach?" she asked, drawing back and speaking in a normal tone. "I want to tell him how lucky he is."
"Unfortunately, he's tied up on work-related stuff for most of the weekend " Victoria had replied, not having to feign her regret. "Which, according to him, is his loss and your gain. He insisted I take you guys out for a drink to celebrate—on him."