Desperately Devastated (Addicted To You, Book Nine) (7 page)

A sourness churned around in my stomach. If this were true – that the drug was even more powerful than they’d already thought – it was cause for celebration. So then why didn’t Carter seem happy? Why had he seemed so tense when Dr. Klaxton was in the room? And why hadn’t he mentioned it as soon as I got here?

“We got more data in?” I asked.

“Yup.” Carter had finished updating the results slide and was now looking at the next one. He’d loaded the powerpoint up onto one of the public computers in the business center so we could both see it on the big screen. His hand gripped the mouse tightly, and for a second, I was afraid he was going to break it.

I tried to compose my thoughts. “I mean…I didn’t know the clinic was going to have another weigh-in while we were away.”

He didn’t answer me. Instead, he just clicked the mouse and moved onto the next slide. And then he began clicking through the slides faster and faster, one by one, not even really looking at them as they flew by into one big blur.

The sick feeling in my stomach folded itself up into a little box, disappeared for one moment, and then immediately bloomed into fear.

“Carter – “ I started.

“Lindsay, don’t worry,” he said. “They did another weigh-in because they wanted to make sure that our data was as up-to-date as possible. Dr. Klaxton wanted to make sure we had enough weigh-ins to be able to show that the drug was still working, even after weeks had passed.”

“Okay.” But of course it didn’t make sense. The weigh-ins were once a week. It was set up that way for a reason. It was controlled. It had to be, otherwise all our data could be called into question.

Not to mention that even if Carter were telling the truth, that they’d done an extra weigh-in to have the most up-to-date results, it would be impossible for their to be an eight percent increase in weight loss from just that one new data point.

Which could only mean one thing.

Dr. Klaxton was lying about the data.

And Carter was in on it.

***

When we arrived at the grand ballroom about an hour later, I was this close to throwing up. There were fluted glasses of orange juice sitting at each carefully set place setting, and I reached down and grabbed one off a random table and took a sip. I was hoping it would help to settle my stomach, but it was full of pulp and burned my throat going down.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be drinking those,” Carter said.

“Yeah, no shit.” I wanted to add,
people do a lot of things they shouldn’t be
doing
, but I stopped myself.

“There you are!” a voice behind us barked. Dr. Klaxton. He shook his head and threw his hands up in the air as if we were an hour late instead of five minutes early.

“Dr. Klaxton,” Carter said. “We just got here.”

“It’s about time.” Dr. Klaxton held his hand out to Carter. His fingers were pale, and tuft of dark hair peeked out from the sleeve of his white shirt. I’d never noticed how hairy Dr. Klaxton’s wrists were. It was ominous somehow, and I took another sip of my orange juice just to have something to do.

“The powerpoint’s all set,” Carter said happily, handing over the jump drive we’d used to save the newest version.

“Hopefully it’s not a complete disaster.” Dr. Klaxton turned and walked out of the ballroom before we had a chance to say anything.

“Don’t you ever get annoyed about that?” I asked. “The way he treats you?”

Carter shrugged. “He’s a doctor.”

“So?”

“So they have a certain attitude.”

I shook my head. “I’m never going to act that way when I’m a doctor.”

Carter gave me a wry smile. “We’ll see.”

“You are? You’re seriously going to act that way?”

“No. I mean, I don’t think I’m going to be a dick. But Dr. Klaxton is a very important man. You think he got there by being nice?”

“So what you’re saying is that you have to be an unethical asshole to achieve anything?” I shook my head again. “That’s ridiculous.”

Carter frowned. “Who said anything about being unethical?”

I rolled my eyes. “Carter, come on,” I said. “I’m not an idiot.”

The skin between his eyes furrowed into a wrinkle. “What are you talking about?”

He was looking right at me and I willed myself not to look away. I wasn’t going to say it out loud. To accuse someone of falsifying data, especially someone as well-known and powerful as Dr. Klaxton, was serious. Especially when you didn’t have any real proof.

“Lindsay, are you okay?” Carter asked. “What are you talking about?”

It was weird – he would have to be an idiot to not know what Dr. Klaxton was doing. But something about his tone made me think that maybe I had it all wrong.

Suddenly, I was confused. I wanted to ask him. This was Carter. He wasn’t bad. He was nice and smart and sweet and he wouldn’t knowingly be a part of something as horrible as changing the data set on a drug. He wouldn’t risk his career for something like that.

Just ask him. He’ll tell you it’s all a mistake, he’ll give you an explanation.

But before I could say anything, the doors to the ballroom swung open and people began trickling into the ballroom.

The kickoff meeting had begun.

***

I ended up at a corner table, the table where they were putting the castoffs. Since I hadn’t exactly been invited to the kickoff meeting, it wasn’t surprising. There were three other people at my table – two men in dark pinstripe suits who immediately took out their blackberries and began typing away, and a woman doctor with short bleach blonde hair. The men didn’t acknowledge my existence but as soon as the woman sat down she looked me up and down. Then she sighed and looked away, obviously dismissing me as someone totally unimportant.

“I knew I’d end up at this table,” she complained loudly. “You rearrange your whole schedule just to get here, and this is how they repay you.” She blew out a big of breath, then pulled off the cropped jacket she was wearing over her suit. The blouse she had on was creamy and sleeveless, and her arms were cut and defined.

She picked up her orange juice and sniffed it. Then she turned and smiled at me magnanimously. “What’s your name?”

“Lindsay,” I said, letting out a sigh of relief that someone was going to talk to me.

“Lindsay Cramer. I’m -- ”

“Can you please take this orange juice away?” she asked. “And find me a Perrier?”

I started at her blankly. Was it possible she thought I worked here? I knew I wasn’t dressed as well as everyone else, but the waiters and waitresses were all wearing black pants and white shirts with silver vests.

“I’m Dr. Klaxton’s research assistant,” I said.

Her eyes flickered with slight interest at Dr. Klaxton’s name, but then she must have realized that if I was anyone important, I wouldn’t be sitting at this table. “That’s sweet,” she said. “And if you could get me a Perrier, I’ll be sure to tell him how helpful you’ve been.”

She turned away and began talking with the man who was sitting on her right.

What else could I do? I got up and went in search of Perrier.

The bar wasn’t open this early, so I followed one of the waitresses into the kitchen and begged her for a Perrier. As she handed me the bottle, I heard someone talking into a microphone in the ballroom, asking everyone to take their seats for breakfast and the opening speeches. I started to hurry back to my seat, but the kitchen floor was slippery, and before I knew what was happening, I’d slipped and fallen.

The bottle fell out of my hand and broke into a million pieces.

“Shit,” I swore. I stood up. I wasn’t hurt, thank God. But the water had soaked through my skirt and tights, leaving dark black spots all over my dress. I looked like I’d wet my pants.

Tears filled my eyes and threatened to spill down my cheeks.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” the waitress who’d helped me said, looking down at the mess.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just –“

She thrust another bottle of Perrier at me. “Here. Just go.”

So I did.

***

The day didn’t get any better.

What was supposed to be glamorous and exciting turned out to be cooperate and boring. I got a slight thrill when Dr. Klaxton presented his powerpoint, but it was short lived. Carter was busy taking care of Dr. Klaxton’s every whim, and most of the doctors were snobby -- no one seemed to care that the drug was actually going to help people.

All they could talk about was profit and how the drug getting approved was going to mean publication in some of the biggest journals.

All the doctors cared about was getting published and all the corporate bigwigs cared about was the stock price of the company once the drug got approved.

I hated it – the meetings, the cooperate bullshit, the networking, everything.

The whole time, all I could think about was the couple I’d seen on the subway the other day, the one sharing the same newspaper. At the time I’d wished me and Justin were like that. That we were both doctors, or that we were at least on the same path in life.

But now, all I could think of was how insignificant all of that was. Were the guys at this meeting the kind of guys I could see myself spending my life with? The kind of guys who worked twenty-four seven and got excited at the prospect of research not because they wanted to help people, but because it would allow them to make more money or have the most articles in big medical journals?

The whole day had been a huge dose of reality. It was like I was a kid again, realizing Santa didn’t exist. When the day was finally over, and they announced that cocktail hour was going to be starting in the adjoining ballroom, I couldn’t take it anymore.

My whole body felt like one bit knot of stress and anxiety.

I just wanted to forget about everything.

Everything except Justin.

So when everyone else got up and wandered toward the bar, grabbing drinks and making small talk while they tried to one up each other with stories about how important they were, I slipped out of the room and headed for the elevator.

***

I was at the room before I realized he might not even be there. He might have taken off again. The thought was too much to bear, and I slid my card into the door hastily and pushed it open. But he
was
there, sprawled on the bed, his legs a tangle in the sheets, the comforter in a ball on the floor.

I watched him sleep for a moment, his chest moving up and down as he breathed.

He was so beautiful I could hardly take it. It seemed inconceivable now that I’d thought science and school was the most important thing, the thing I wanted as my refuge.

Yes, Justin drove me completely crazy, but when I was with him, I’d never felt more alive.

I sat down on the bed and ran my fingers through his hair, brushing it back from his forehead.

He opened his eyes and blinked.

“Hey.” He sat up. He grinned at me sleepily. “It’s you.”

“It’s me.” Now that I was here, that we were together, all I wanted was him. I wanted him to make me forget about this horrible day, to erase everything that had happened between us, the weirdness that had permeated our interactions ever since we’d gotten to New York.

Only Justin could make me forget that everything I’d been working on with Carter and Dr. Klaxton was probably a sham, and that the people who worked in the field I wanted to go into someday were nothing but a bunch of snobs and jerks.

I kept my eyes on his, willing him to read my thoughts.

His gaze burned into mine, and I watched as intensity flickered in his eyes, growing until it seemed to take over the whole room. He reached up and slid his index finger down over my lips, and then he pulled me down on top of him. His lips were on mine, soft at first, and then hungrier, his tongue pushing into my mouth, taking me.

His hands slid down my body, and I could feel him getting hard through his sweatpants. I pushed my hips into his, loving the feel of him against me. I ran my hands up under his shirt and his chest was taut, hard, smooth. God, he was so beautiful. I felt like crying. I couldn’t believe I’d thought anything was more important than this, than the way I felt right now.

“Wait, wait,” Justin said softly. He grabbed my hands and held them at my sides.

“Shouldn’t we talk about last night? Because all I did was get drunk—“

“No.” I leaned down and kissed him again. “No more talking.”

“Lindsay – ”

“No. Please. No more talking.”

He hesitated, and I knew what he was thinking. He wanted me badly, but he knew things were weird between us, that we needed to talk, to figure things out. But his body overrode his mind and I saw the switch flip inside of him.

He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me down on the bed, then turned us over so that he was on top of me. My skirt was pushed all the way up now, and he started to grind against me. Heat pulsed through me and settled in between my legs, making me warm and wet. Justin inched my dress down over my shoulders and then kissed the top of my breasts where they swelled out of my bra.

He pushed a strand of hair behind my ear and looked into my eyes.

“Lindsay,” he murmured. “God, I want you so bad.”

I didn’t trust myself to speak. My breath was coming in short gasps. I looked at him again and my eyes said everything.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m sure.”

He took me in for another long moment, and then his lips were back on mine, his hands tugging my dress down and off. His fingers dipped into my panties, teasing me.

The emotions running through me were like nothing I’d ever felt before, pushing and pulling, but somehow always leading me toward him. I was on fire, my skin charged with electricity.

When we were finally naked, he stopped for a moment, poised on top of me.

He looked at me again, and I was afraid he was going to tell me he couldn’t, that he didn’t want to. But he didn’t.

Instead, he kissed me again. And then he looked into my eyes and whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” As I said the words, I realized how true they were. I loved him.