The First Invitation

Clara walked beside Adrian as far as the ambulance doors. Titan tried to climb in after him. It took everything Marcus had left to coax him toward the car waiting alongside it.

“I'll take him to the vet,” Marcus told her. “Price is riding with Adrian. We'll get you another car, if you can still help the hospital with the handoff.”

She agreed. Only when the driver asked whether she needed the heat turned up did she realize she was shaking.

At the hospital, she explained what she'd seen, answered the staff's questions, and found herself staring at a coffee machine without remembering whether she'd pressed a button.

Marcus found her there later.

“He's in surgery. They said getting him here when we did made a difference.”

Clara braced her hands against the counter.

“What about Titan?”

“Cuts on his paws, exhaustion, and a vet who's going to charge me for emotional distress. Hers, not his.”

A short laugh escaped her. Then her eyes began to sting.

Marcus looked away, giving her a moment.

“Did somebody call my agency?” she asked.

“Price did. Your patient is with her family, and another nurse has taken over. You're not going to get in trouble for staying.”

It was a small worry compared with everything else. The relief nearly made her cry anyway.

By the time she got home, there were seventeen dollars in her wallet and two messages from her building manager about the heat. She showered, scrubbed the remaining blood from beneath her nails, and fell asleep before finishing a piece of toast.

Over the next few days, she worked her scheduled shifts. The hallway returned to her at inconvenient moments: when a dog barked on the street, when she closed her eyes on the bus, when she found a dark stain on a pillowcase.

Marcus texted on the third morning. Adrian was stable. Titan had already tried to steal a compress. Attached was a photograph of the dog lying with one paw bandaged, looking profoundly offended.

Clara saved it.

Six days after the attack, Price asked her to come in and complete part of the emergency record. When they finished, she found Marcus standing outside a private room.

“He asked to meet you.”

“He or the dog?”

“One of them asked. The other has been trying to open the door since he heard your voice.”

Titan appeared the moment Marcus let him out. Clara bent her knees, surprised by how quickly that enormous body reached her. He pressed his nose into her coat and let out a forceful breath.

“I missed you too,” she admitted, rubbing his neck once he'd settled.

“That explains a few things.”

The voice came from inside the room.

Adrian sat in an armchair by the window, a dark robe covering his hospital gown. His pallor and the careful way he breathed made it clear he was still recovering. His eyes, however, looked anything but fragile.

Clara straightened.

“Good things, I hope.”

“That depends. Do you usually win over my staff before speaking to me?”

“Only the friendly ones.”

Marcus coughed behind her. She decided not to look.

Adrian offered his hand. She shook it carefully, noticing a small scar near his thumb.

“Clara Bennett. I wanted to thank you in person.”

There was no speech. That surprised her.

“I'm glad you're doing better.”

“Price told me what you did. Marcus told me what you refused to listen to.”

“He was worried.”

“He still is.”

Marcus excused himself to make a call. Titan lay across the doorway, occupying nearly all of it.

Adrian watched him settle.

“He doesn't do that with anyone.”

“Maybe your visitors aren't very interesting.”

A small smile appeared. Clara found it disturbingly attractive before remembering whom she was looking at.

“Do you know who I am?”

“I know what people say about you.”

“And that doesn't concern you?”

“It does. But you were unconscious the other night. I didn't have much opportunity to assess your personality.”

He laughed and brought a hand to his side. Clara moved to call someone, but he lifted a finger.

“Don't start treating me before you accept the job.”

“What job?”

He explained that he'd be discharged when his doctors approved. Price would coordinate his recovery at home, a team would cover the shifts, and he wanted Clara to be part of it.

“You'll need to go through my agency,” she said. “And I already have patients.”

“We can pay more.”

She met his eyes.

“That isn't what I said.”

Adrian went quiet. Somewhere in the hall, a cart rattled past.

“Then tell me what you are saying.”

She explained her availability, her commitment to the patients she'd already agreed to see, and the fact that she wouldn't be on call around the clock. She liked doing her job well. That required sleep, time at home, and the ability to turn off her phone when a shift ended.

He listened without interrupting.

“All right. Marcus will work with your agency within those terms. If you don't like the offer, you can turn it down.”

She'd expected bargaining. Possibly an arrogant remark. His straightforward acceptance left her briefly without a response.

“I'd also want to know whether that house is safe.”

His expression changed.

“I'm not going back yet. When I do, you'll have the information you need to make that decision.”

It wasn't an empty guarantee. She liked that more than she'd intended to.

They talked about Titan for a few minutes. Adrian knew every inconvenient habit the animal possessed. He seemed sincerely indignant when she mentioned that Titan had behaved beautifully for the vet once she'd offered him a warm blanket.

“Six years buying expensive beds,” he muttered. “Apparently all I needed was a heated towel.”

Clara smiled. The man in the armchair was becoming harder to reconcile with the news stories.

Her phone vibrated with a reminder about the bus she needed to catch.

“I have to go.”

She picked up her bag. Titan got up ahead of her and planted himself in the doorway.

“Excuse me,” she told him.

He sat down.

Adrian watched with undisguised satisfaction.

“This isn't funny,” Clara said.

“A little funny.”

“You could call him.”

“I could.”

She raised an eyebrow. His smile softened, and his next question was unexpectedly direct.

“Have you eaten?”

She thought about the yogurt she'd been carrying in her bag since that morning.

“Technically.”

“Stay for dinner. I can order something better than hospital food.”

“Is this part of the interview?”

“The interview's over. I'm asking you to have dinner with me.”

Titan pushed his nose into her hand, as though he considered the matter settled.

Clara checked the time. Then she looked at Adrian.

“If the food's bad, I'm blaming you.”

He picked up his phone.

“That seems fair.”