Page 97 of Sucker For You

Brrrriiinng!

She was choosing to call Chase. The neurologist hadn’t harassed her into contact. She was calling because she needed something from him. This was practical. Again:her choice.

Brrrriii—

“Bella?” The call connected. “Babe?”

Fuck.

Wes had already detested this man for how he’d mistreated Isabel.Idiot. But hearing Chase’s voice—suave, smiling with expensively white teeth? He could just see the doctor mouthing apologies while stepping out of a conference room that overlooked lights and cars on the glitzy Las Vegas strip, possibly straightening his tie after a gin-and-tonic lunch, rolling his eyes toward his colleagues and pointing at his left hand—where despite everything, he probably had the ego to imagine that Isabel still wore his stupid diamonds. The sound of Chase’s greeting grated on his brain like coarse sand.

His free hand made a fist; it wasn’t half as fierce as Isabel’s grip on him.

“Babe,thank God. I’ve been calling and texting for days, but you haven’t answered. I didn’t know where you were or what happened to you, or—”

The nerve of this fucker.

Isabel’s restraint was better than his. She had more practice with Chase, enough to sit back (metaphorically, since her spine remained straighter than the venomous needles of a lionfish) while the man vomitedbabes and concerns. She listened without interrupting his justifications for why he’d left early for Las Vegas, why he was still in Sin City two weeks later, regardless of his apparent concern for her. It wasn’t like Chase gave her an opening to participate in the conversation, anyhow.

Was this what she’d dealt with before in their relationship?

“. . . because BioPulse’s marketing head had a change in her schedule and needed to meet a day earlier than we’d planned or we couldn’t meet at all, and then Research and Development wanted a consultation after the marketing brief—but you didn’t answer any of my texts about moving up my timeline here, and—I walked out in the middle of an R&D two o’clock sync when you called, babe.”

Isabel’s silence was confirmation:yes.

“I was worried after you left the yacht club. Do you know how long it’s been since you picked up your phone? Because that’s the thing about clinical trials, Bella. Even in Phase Three, we’re still assessing Ceretobicin’s side effects. Brain fog was one of them in Phase Two. You need to tell me if you’ve had an episode. Or if you don’t remember what’s happened. If you don’t remember my calls. How great we are together. I need to make sure you’re safe,” and now his voice softened, turned persuasive and patronizing. “Babe. . . migraines cancause hallucinations. I know you were upset at the club. But whatever you think happened, whatever you think you saw, you know I’d never jeopardize—”

His career and endorsements.

God, WeshatedChase.

He knew Isabel well enough to see that her tight-fisted patience with the doctor’s jawing wasn’t indifference, either. Her quiet was hostile while Chase ran his mouth, ran out of breath, and eventually ran out of excuses.

“. . . Bella? Babe, you still there?”

“You’ve met with BioPulse’s Research and Development team.” The words she finally articulated over the line were little more than a hiss, inflectionless. “What do you know about the company’s experimental practices?”

“What?”

She didn’t repeat herself.

“. . . Bella?” a second time.

Nothing.

Just a pause, coagulating.

The silence on the call thickened and lengthened for thirty seconds, then a minute with a background hum of Las Vegas air conditioning. It stretched long enough for Chase to recover his wind—and apparently more; when he spoke again a full ninety seconds later, his justifications and caveats were gone. So were his sweet words.

“All of BioPulse Pharmaceuticals’ research complies with both state and federal regulations. The corporation even adheres to voluntary industry best practices regarding lab safety reporting, as well as post-trial support for test subjects.”

Slick, practised, corporate.

No one talked like this! Not unless they were reading off a cue card. Or had just attended a seminar on brand voice? Or had been trained on a response to this exact question.

Shit.

“Yes, I believe that BioPulse is in compliance with current industry regulations.” Isabel’s counter was steady, while the tips of her ears flamed. Her fingers clenched tighter around Wes’s hand; regulatory compliance and ethics weren’t the same. “But have you seen these research practices in action?”