The Reckless Secret, Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire In Love BBW Romance) (2 page)

I
t happened again
. No one said so, but the vibe in the air was
knowing
. People whispered; the girls at reception eyed her strangely when she came off her rounds. At one point, Maggie thought she caught sight of a police officer slipping into Dr. Stevens’ office. Her entire insides twisted with anxiety.

It wasn’t her—of course, it wasn’t. And yet, once again, it had happened on her shift. But she wasn’t the only one who worked this shift. How could Dr. Stevens be so sure she was the culprit? How could so many of her colleagues give her such accusing glances?

The evidence must have been pretty clear, but…how? Even if there was a giant neon sign flashing MAGGIE’S THE THIEF, the fact remained she hadn’t stolen the drugs. She just hadn’t. That was all there was to it.

And she’d say that in court, if she had to. With full conviction.

Oh God, please don’t let it go to court
, she thought as she walked past a couple of whispering nurses, and then she stopped walking, and she straightened her back, and she turned and looked those gossiping nurses straight in the eye, stared them down until they both glanced away uncomfortably. Because she wasn’t going to act guilty, not when she had nothing to feel guilty
about
.

“
I
t’s hard
, though,” she said to Ashley two days later, sounding to her own ears all downtrodden and pathetic. “Putting up with the stares and the whispers all day.”

Ashley snorted and flipped shut the magazine she’d been perusing. Beside her on the bed, Cami finished detangling the silver chain she’d been fiddling with for the past twenty minutes and held it up to Maggie.

Both Ashley and Cami had shown up within an hour of each other this morning, sacrificing their Saturday to help Maggie get ready for her dreaded cousin’s wedding—Cami swinging by after dropping off her daughter at a birthday party, and Ashley answering an “Oh my God, I don’t know which dress to wear” SOS text from Maggie at stupid o’clock that morning. And, dress chosen, they’d apparently stuck around to listen to her moan, because she hadn’t managed to stop since they’d arrived.

“No one
really
thinks you’re the thief,” Ashley said, and Cami nodded.

“Yeah, it’s just hot gossip. The first bit of excitement that place has seen in months. Especially since your dad is on the board of trustees for the hospital.”

Maggie gave her a flat stare, midway through attempting to clasp the necklace around her neck. “It’s only a title, really. He never goes to the actual board meetings—he delegated that responsibility to his designated representative or something like that. In favor of golf, most likely. Plus, we deal with people who’ve been in car wrecks and gun fights,” she said—which, while not quite as horror-movie-like as she’d made it sound, was the truth. The three of them were ER nurses, and life in the emergency department was hardly ever boring.

Cami waved a hand. “You know what I mean. We’re not exactly
Grey’s Anatomy
, are we?”

Ashley quirked an eyebrow at her. “As if you’d even notice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Cami, her tone arched and indignant.

“You’re too loved up to pay attention to anything these days.”

Cami’s face melted into one of dreamy happiness. “Yeah,” she said with a floaty sigh, staring off into the middle distance.

Ashley and Maggie rolled their eyes good-naturedly at each other. It had been weeks since Cami and Drew confessed their mutual love, and still the honeymoon phase persevered.

Maybe it’s not the honeymoon phase,
Maggie thought, turning to look at herself in the mirror.
Maybe that’s what people in love look like.
Not that she’d ever know—she couldn’t imagine ever trusting a guy enough to let him into her heart the way Cami had invited Drew into hers. She’d seen first-hand how easily an untrustworthy man could destroy the woman who loved him, still remembered those long nights filled with nothing but the sounds of her mother’s quiet but incessant crying. How her eyes never quite regained that spark she’d carried with her for so many years of blissful ignorance, married and raising her children and entirely unaware of her husband’s second life of women and alcohol and debauchery.

They all found out in the end, learned the whole truth during one explosive evening that left them all reeling and scattered like shards of glass, a broken vase tipped carelessly onto the unforgiving ground by the hand of Duke Emerson. He didn’t stay to pick up the pieces—didn’t care enough to. There was an air of relief about him in the moment of truth, happy at last to stop faking this family life.

It was Grant who helped put Maggie and their mother back together, Grant who dealt with the transition of their father moving out, Grant who hugged Maggie and kissed the crown of her head and told her he would always look after her.

He’d been Maggie’s rock ever since.

Which made today even worse. He was supposed to be doing this with her—weathering the nightmare that was a family function. Him letting her down like he had was so out of character that she still wasn’t quite sure what had happened. He hadn’t even given her a reason.

She smoothed her hands down her hips, flattening the material of her dress against her skin, looking for an awkwardly visible panty-line or marks on the pale-gold fabric.

“You look amazing,” Ashley said. “Way better than that brown thing you were gonna wear.”

“It was
sand
,” Maggie said for what felt like the hundredth time.

She did look pretty good, she had to admit. The dress hugged her voluptuous curves in all the right ways, gave a soft and sensual roundness to her hips and breasts, cinched her in at the waist, the hem just grazing her mid-thigh. And the heels, a patent black she’d bought months ago and never got around to wearing, lifted her an inch—or four—and lengthened her newly bronzed legs like magic. Spending ninety percent of her life in a nurse’s uniform, it wasn’t often she felt glamorous and sexy. But seeing herself in this dress, with her hair teased into tumbled curls and her lips slick with matte red, she couldn’t help but think,
Yep, you got it.

“The point is, Mags,” Cami said, picking up the thread of their earlier conversation, “you shouldn’t worry about what everyone at work thinks. They all know you wouldn’t do it—right now they’re just getting swept along in the gossip. And you know these things always—oh my
god
, Grant, you scared the life out of me!”

Maggie swung around and there he was—her brother, standing in her bedroom doorway, pocketing the door key she’d given him the first day she moved into this apartment.

“What—I thought you were busy today.” There was a flatness to her voice, even as her entire insides were melting with relief. Surely, this meant he would be accompanying her to the wedding, keeping her sane in the face of a hundred-strong throng of the upper-class.

He didn’t answer her, too busy smiling and greeting Cami, who’d hopped off the bed to meet him and kiss his cheek, quickly followed by Ashley, the three of them devolving into a catch-up chat. It gave Maggie enough time to get a good look at him, and what she saw made her chest tight.

He didn’t look good, not at all. Shadowed beneath bloodshot eyes, skin pale and stretched tight over bones that were definitely more prominent than the last time she’d seen him. He looked up at her then as if sensing her concern and offered her a smile that spoke of a kind of awkwardness they’d never had between them before.

“You look nice, sis.”

“Thank you,” she said, and then, “Wish I could say the same.”

He gave a chipped laugh. “Yeah, I know,” he said almost bashfully, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “This damn flu I couldn’t shake.”

“Flu?”

“You do look ashen,” Cami said. She touched his cheek, a frown on her face. “Are you sure you should be out today?”

Gently, he lowered Cami’s hand from his face and gave it a little squeeze. “I’m fine,” he told her, and then he released her hand, pushing away from the doorway to approaching Maggie. “Couldn’t let my baby sister down, could I?”

He stooped to kiss her cheek, and she returned it, confusion still clouding her mind. If he had the flu, why couldn’t he have just said that on the phone, rather than get angry with her and shut her down?

He pulled back and looked her in the eye, a strained smile on his face that made uneasiness wash through her. She couldn’t help but feel like she was missing something.

“We’ll leave you to it, Mags,” said Ashley, awkwardness in her tone and in the way she tugged on Cami’s sleeve to get her moving too. Whatever atmosphere lingered in the air, it was enough for Ashley to feel like she needed to get out of the way.

“Yeah, we’ll, uh—” stuttered Cami, catching on. “We’ll see you at work.”

They didn’t stop to say goodbye—just swept out of the room and, a moment later, through the front door, shutting it softly behind themselves and leaving Grant and Maggie in a thick, deafening silence.

“That’s a nice dress—”

“What’s going on, Grant?” She crossed her arms and tried to fix a no-bullshit look on her face. It must’ve worked, because his own expression sobered.

“Honestly, I’m fine,” he said, reaching out to give her shoulder a bracing squeeze. “I’ve just had a bad week with this flu—really knocked it out of me, you know? I’m sorry I was such an ass to you about it.”

The earnestness in his voice—the sincerity—sounded exactly like the Grant she knew, the big brother who’d always been her rock, and she stepped forward to hug him. “I was really worried about you,” she mumbled into his ear, and he offered a breathy laugh that sounded like relief. “Should’ve come to me if you were that bad. I could’ve helped.”

“I know,” he said on a sigh. “You know me, though. Never like to make a big deal out of things.”

Always the strong one. Even after his horrible skiing accident last year, he’d still refused to admit that he needed any help. Grant Emerson looked after Maggie, not the other way around, no matter how much Maggie tried.

His ribs were sharper than normal, digging into her as she hugged him.

She squeezed him tighter.

“
M
aggie
, dear, I’ve got a comb in my bag if you’d like to—” Aunt Gemma announced, rushing towards her down the center aisle, elbowing the wedding party out of the way as she went.

Maggie clenched her jaw. “I’m fine, thank you. It’s supposed to look like this.”

“I’m sorry?” said Aunt Gemma archly, coming to a stop in front of Maggie and Grant. She gave Maggie the once-over.

Maggie pointed at her hair. “I said it’s supposed to look like this.”

“Oh,” said Aunt Gemma. She looked at Maggie’s head like it’d grown a twin.

Grant cleared his throat. “She looks lovely, doesn’t she?”

Aunt Gemma glanced at him sharply, then back to Maggie. “Yes. Oh yes. That’s a very
brave
dress, isn’t it? You haven’t left yourself much room.”

“Form fitting,” Maggie said tightly, and then quickly, “If you’ll excuse us.”

“Breathe,” Grant murmured to her as they walked away, sounding entirely too amused. “She’s the easy one.”

“Oh God, here it comes.”

It was as if Grant had conjured her—no sooner had he finished his sentence, the much-less-appealing version of Aunt Gemma broke away from a crowd and made a beeline for them. Aunt Constance, the mother of the bride, and Maggie’s biggest detractor.

“Ah, Maggie, dear, I’m glad you’re here. I’ve got someone I want you to meet. Hello, Grant, lovely to see you. Goodness, you look ill. Now, Maggie—he’s an investment banker, somewhat socially challenged but you’re in no state to be choosy—”

She’d said it all without pausing, and as she spoke, the giant feather pinned into her hat waved around so dramatically that Maggie couldn’t help but stare at it.

“Are you listening to me? Maggie.” Aunt Constance snapped her fingers in Maggie’s face. Beside her, Grant snorted.

“Yes, sorry. Investment banker.” Then the words caught up with her, and she widened her eyes. “Oh God, no, sorry. I’m not interested.”