Charlene dug her nails deep into her palm, her face going pale. ”Bren!” she called out as she stepped forward. “The media is here! We have to go—now—before someone notices you here in the hospital and we have no idea how to explain it!

A storm of impatience and frustration pooled in Brendan’s eyes. Why was the media here?

He turned to Deirdre sharply. “Come back to me. There’s still time.”

“No, thanks, Mr. Brighthall,” Sterling parried pointedly. His back—his entire body, in fact—still hurt from the impact, but he would not compromise when it came to protecting Deirdre. He hugged her even more tightly.

He shot Brendan a steely glare, his eyes sharp as daggers. “You have no reason to trouble yourself, Mr. Brighthall. I’ll take care of Dee just fine.”

“Sterling Fuller! You son of a b*tch! You think you’re worth jacksh*t to be able to defy me?!” Brendan bellowed. He was livid.

Then, the media broke inside, getting stuck on the backdoor in a stampede. They wielded their camera stic