4. Attorney Voss

For ten agonizing seconds, the only movement in the room was the slow drift of dust in the morning sunbeams.

Spirit’s hand remained suspended in mid-air, the palm burning as if she had struck an open flame instead of human skin.

The vibration of the impact rattled right up to her elbow.

Then, the stillness was shattered by a low chuckle.

It was Charles.

He straightened up from the doorframe. The coldness in his eyes had changed into something entirely different.

He looked at his brother, then back to Spirit.

“For the first time today, Nurse Browne,” Charles said, “you did something right.”

Spirit’s breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes widened, shock paralyzing her nervous system.

Of all the reactions she had braced herself for (threats, a call to the police, the immediate arrival of the estate’s guards) praise from the most hostile, aggressive brother was entirely off the script.

Charles didn’t wait for a response. He turned on his heel and retreated toward the staircase, disappearing into the upper level.

Left alone with his brothers, the reality of her actions crashed over Spirit.

The rage evaporated, leaving behind a freezing terror. Her hand began to shake violently. She stumbled backward a little, her knees turning to jelly.

Her chest rose faster than normal as she stared at Chase in regret.

One of his large, veiny hands rose slowly, his fingers cupping the side of his face where a red handprint was blooming against his jaw.

His head stayed tilted to the side for a long moment before he slowly turned his gaze back to her.

He was smiling now. It wasn’t the cocky smirk from before. It was a wicked grin mixed with pure fascination.

He slowly drew his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down as his gaze locked onto hers with a look that said wow. He looked utterly impressed, and that terrified her even more.

Without uttering a single word, he rose from the sofa, never breaking eye contact, and drifted silently down the corridor toward the back of the mansion.

“Oh my god,” Spirit whispered, her voice shaking.

“Oh my god, what have I done?”

She collapsed internally, her hands gripping her head as she paced a small circle in the living room.

The clinical simulations, the strict code of ethics, the lectures on professional boundaries—they all screamed inside her mind.

“I’m gonna lose my license,” she spiraled out loud, her voice rising desperately.

“This is a direct violation of patient-client protocol. It’s physical assault. I’m going to be fired before my residency even officially starts…. oh god,…”

“Hey. Breathe.”

A pair of warm hands settled onto her trembling shoulders, instantly grounding her.

Chris was now standing directly in front of her, his gentle touch countering the chaotic energy that had just left the room.

He didn’t look angry; his handsome face was soft with deep, comforting empathy.

“It’s okay,” Chris said softly, his thumbs rubbing reassuring circles against her shoulders.

“You did the right thing.”

“The right thing?!” Spirit choked out a panicked, hysterical laugh, tearing herself away from his grip.

“Why does everyone keep saying I did the right thing! I just slapped a patient! A VIP patient, as a matter of fact! That is a gross breach of professional conduct. My career is over. My life is ruined.”

“He is not a patient, Spirit. We already established that,” Chris countered, stepping closer to maintain his presence.

“And he wasn’t acting like a client. He assaulted you.”

“No, he didn’t,” she argued desperately, trying to find a legal loophole to save her own sanity.

“He didn’t touch me inappropriately. He just… he said some repulsive, disgusting words. It was something I should have overlooked. I should have maintained my professional distance and walked away.”

“No,” Chris said, his voice hardening.

“Chase is not someone you overlook things from. He is a boundary-pusher. He is someone you have to draw a hard line with immediately, or he will take a mile. Do you have any idea how much trouble he has brought down on this family because he can’t control the anatomy dangling between his legs?”

Chris let out an exhausted sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“We’ve warned him a thousand times to stop treating women like conquests, especially the staff and the nurses at Voss Memorial. You didn’t just defend yourself, Nurse Browne. You gave him the exact wake-up call he’s been begging for.”

A small, reassuring smile tugged at the corner of Chris’s lips as he looked at her.

“Look at me. If you wanted to file a formal harassment lawsuit against him right now, you would win this case handily. But… as a lawyer who occasionally has to clean up my family’s disasters, I’m advising you not to.”

Spirit blinked, her breathing finally slowing down a fraction.

“Why?”

“Because Chase isn’t going to pursue this,” Chris promised, his voice dropping into a comforting, absolute certainty.

“He knows he crossed a line. He knows he messed up, and frankly, he’s too guilty to run to Grandpa or HR to complain that a five-foot-four nurse put him in his place. You are safe. I promise you.”

The suffocating weight on Spirit’s chest lifted just enough for her to draw a deep breath. She looked into Chris’s warm eyes, finding an anchor in the storm brewing inside her.

“Come on,” Chris murmured gently, reaching down to pick up her medical kit from the table.

“Let’s get you away from this mess and up to your room. You’re staying until Monday morning, right?”

Spirit managed a fragile nod. “Yes.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

He led the way up the staircase to the upper level of the mansion. It looked like an exclusive gallery. The walls were lined with Venetian plaster and minimalist canvas paintings.

Chris stopped at a door near the end of the eastern wing. He pushed it open, revealing a bedroom that was larger than Spirit’s entire apartment.

A king-sized bed topped with charcoal-grey linens sat against the far wall, flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the estate grounds.

Chris set the kit down on a luggage stand.

“The house intercom is right there on the wall next to the thermostat. If you need anything at all (food, fresh linens, coffee) just press the button. The housekeeper will bring it right up to you.”

Spirit walked in and stood near the edge of the bed, her fingers still faintly twitching, though the panic had settled into exhaustion.

“Thank you so much. I don’t know how to appreciate you.”

“You don’t have to,” Chris shot back.

He walked back toward the doorway, but as his hand settled on the handle, he paused. He turned back to face her, his stunning face framed by a look of genuine admiration.

“Nurse Browne?” he said softly.

She looked up. “Yes?”

“I like you,” Chris said, a warm smile flashing across his stunning features.

“I mean, I like your assertiveness. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.”

Chris’s words left Spirit totally dumbfounded. Her face flamed a bright, rosy red, and any chance of a witty comeback instantly vanished. She couldn’t even form a simple thank you.

She just stood frozen, blushing furiously, as he walked out and closed the door shut behind him.