Lured In (Dark Paradise, #1) (3 page)

We usually had family dinner on Sunday nights at a different family member’s home. I had cooked all of our favorite foods and bought our favorite wines and champagnes as usual. Of course, my family was very surprised by my sudden Wednesday dinner, but they went along with it. After we all ate and drank well, I assembled everyone on the third level of my penthouse. I poured everyone of age more bubbly and told them the reason for the midweek dinner.

“I know every one of you is wondering why I called you here tonight, so I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. I asked you here to talk about the health of Capitol Health.”

“Gosh, Abi. I knew you were up to something. Leave the health of Capitol Health to those of us that know what we’re doing—those of us who’ve been there since its establishment,” Lauren, my evil stepsister, harshly commented. She was tall with a medium build. She had blue eyes, shoulder-length brown hair, and a natural olive skin tone.

I looked at her pointedly and said, “I’ve been working at Capitol Health long enough to know that business isn’t looking good, inside or out. Cash flow could be—”

“Really, Abi? Do you always have to create a problem when there is none? Why do you even care about cash flow? Gabe makes sure you and Gabi are well taken care of,” Lauren commented again.

I ignored her and continued. “I’m not talking about me, Lauren. I’m talking about the cash flow at the practice, which could be better than what it is now. Also, most of the staff is horrible. Only a handful of them take pride in the work they do, and the others lack work ethic, proper training, and are very insubordinate, which is evident by the negative public reviews. Needless to say, we need immediate restructuring.”

“Restructuring?” Both Lauren and Richard exclaimed together.

“Yes, restructuring. I—”

“Sweetie, sit down and let it go. Your dad, stepdad, Uncle Ernie, and sister were managing the practice very well before you joined. Not everything can be as perfect as you have it here,” my mom said sarcastically, waving her hands in the air at my penthouse. She continued her sarcasm. “This is the first job you ever had, so you’re experiencing what it’s like to actually work and just comparing everyday work life to the easy and stress-free life Gabe spoiled you with all these years.”

Before I could address my mom, my dad got up. “Darling, the practice is doing well,” he said. “Sure, some of the staff don’t take their work seriously enough, and I agree that this is an issue, but they’re getting the job done.”

“And that is my point, Dad. You allow and think substandard is fine when it’s not. Inferior is inferior, and until you stop camouflaging it with getting the job done, you and the practice will always have negative public reviews.”

“What negative public reviews are you talking about?” my stepdad asked. “This is the first I ever heard of any.”

Lauren opened her big mouth yet again to make another smart-assed comment. “Dad, you know the girl blows more smoke than her favorite idol, Willie Nelson. She doesn’t have anything to support her claim of these so-called negative public reviews.”

“Huh! Willie and I aren’t the only ones blowing a lot of smoke these days. Are we, Lauren?” I arched my brow in her direction.

I looked at Lauren, frustrated as hell. I grabbed my Dell XPS, logged in, and went online to
vitals.com
, a website that provided public information about physicians and their practices. It provided the public with patient reviews, both positive and negative. I connected an HDMI cord to the back of the laptop to display the patient reviews on the TV mounted on the wall.

“Is this enough smoke for you, Lauren?” I asked with just as much attitude as she had given me since starting the discussion. While most of the reviews were bad, only a handful were actually positive. Some of the negative reviews mentioned our abnormally long wait time, inconsistency in patient care from one staff member to the other, unprofessionalism from most of our staff, the lack in following up with the patients following a procedure, and how they honestly felt that they were not getting the best possible care.

My stepdad, understandably upset, asked, “How the hell did this go unnoticed? How many damn patients are we losing behind these negative reviews?”

“A lot. We all know very well that this affects the cash flow, which equals less revenue,” I said, looking at everyone’s faces. “I know how we can increase revenue tremendously and undo our negative image.”

“You lack the degree and experience. I doubt—”

“Let her talk already, Lauren,” Melissa said. She was my other stepsister from my dad’s marriage to Elizabeth. “Go ahead, Abi. Tell Dad and Richard how you can help revitalize the practice.”

“I’m far from being inadequate to discuss Capitol Health’s dire need just because I don’t hold an MBA or have the years of experience that you have. You’re proof enough that I don’t need either,” I said, looking directly at Lauren, still fuming at her remarks. “No, I haven’t been with the practice since the doors opened more than four years ago, but I do have a lot to offer, despite this being my ‘first job’ or so you think.” I looked at my mother, referencing her sarcastic comment. “I don’t know why my opinion—that of someone who knows very little about the company—upsets you when I give a little constructive criticism. Now if I may, I would like to introduce Capitol Health’s clean bill of health—the new business plan.”

I exited
vitals.com
with its negative reviews and said, “Those reviews are unacceptable and will be addressed.”

“You’re damn right they will be,” my stepdad said.

I loaded PowerPoint and launched the restructuring presentation I had created.

“First things first: we are expanding from just family medicine to a multispecialty group practice—a one-stop-shop facility with everything under one roof and within our group practice. No more referring out…that’s money we could have in our pockets. We—”

“Sweetie, we are not specialists,” my dad interrupted.

“I am aware of that, Dad. Please allow me to finish so you can understand the new business plan.”

“Sorry, princess. Go ahead.” He nodded his head.

“As you can see, by converting our current business structure to one that offers more services, we not only retain our patients but also increase revenue by not referring out. By doing this, I expect a net of more than thirty million dollars…a huge turnaround in revenue, in a year, maybe less. And as we start adding more specialties to our group practice, that thirty million will more than triple over the next two years. After that, well, you can do the math.

“So Lauren, you and I are going to update our practice information with all the insurance carriers so that we are indicated in their systems as a multispecialty group. Once we get the update confirmation letters from the payers acknowledging the change, we can start with the expansion of hiring of specialists. We can also start renegotiating our contracts for higher reimbursement rates.”

After I went through the presentation and new business plan, everyone agreed with my plan to operate with multiple specialties, which included family medicine, OB-GYN, sports medicine, hematology and oncology, radiation oncology, radiology, durable medical equipment, pharmacy, elective surgery, and a few more.

Lauren looked at me, then at my dad and stepdad, then back at me, and said, “Abigail, sweetie. It’s completely impossible to add all these specialties. We don’t even have the facility to accommodate your idea.”

“She’s right, honey,” my dad said. “I’m sure I can speak for Richard when I say your proposal sounds great and lucrative, and we would love to move in that direction if the funds were available.” He kissed me on the forehead.

I looked at him and asked, “If you had the funds, would you really move forward with my plans?”

After looking at Richard, he said, “Yes.”

“Good!” I said, pulling the $10 million check from my pocket and placing it in his hand. “Because I’ve got you covered.”

My dad looked at the check twice before handing it off to my stepdad, who looked at it for about a minute before handing it off to my mom, who passed it along. The check went around the room, and every time it passed from one hand to another, they looked at me with their mouths agape.

My mom finally asked, “Where and how did you get your hands on this much money?”

The check had a date of December 14, 2011, and a check number of 10290724. It was made to the order of Abigail M. Winterfield, President, Capitol Health, Inc., though I wasn’t president. It was made out for exactly $10 million and no cents.

I explained to my family what I had done and I how I’d done it. “I was working with Uncle Ernie one day, and when he left for lunch, he left all of the financial and business documents on his desk. I knew in my heart that the practice could and should be doing better and wanted to do something to see it thrive. So I made copies of the documents, studied them, and created a new—falsified—set of documents. I finagled the numbers a bit—OK, a lot—and took the falsified documents to the bank along with that proposal you were just watching, and here we are.”

“You falsified documents and lied to a banking institution to get ten million dollars?” my dad asked.

“Yes, I did.”

“This is a crime, Abigail,” he said, taking the check from Lauren’s hand and holding it up at me. “Why did you do it?”

“Crime? I wouldn’t necessarily call it a crime. Just a very concerned daughter and stepdaughter securing needed funds to grow and maintain the viability of her dad and stepdad’s medical practice.”

Now, nine months after I’d finagled some numbers to get what was needed to expand the practice, I was still damn proud of it. After all, had I not done it, we would not have had a $32.7 million business today for which to talk merger.

“See you in fifteen,” my stepdad said before he and my dad headed to the conference room. They were both enthusiastic about the merger deal. I put my right hand up just above my head and nodded in response, never meeting their eyes.

With five minutes to spare, I printed all the materials that I needed for the merger and called the assistants into my office to help me quickly put together the presentation binders. It was 3:45 p.m. sharp when Timothy, one of the administrative assistants, buzzed me in my office. He told me that the attendees of the meeting were all waiting for me.

“I’d be there already if I wasn’t here talking to you,” I said, trying to make light of the fact that I was late. “We can use your help hauling these binders up to the conference room.”

Somehow we had prepared all forty-three binders for the meeting attendees in five minutes and were rushing to the conference room, which was on the fifteenth floor. We arrived at the conference room at 3:51 p.m., and while the assistants issued the binders to the attendees, I apologized to everyone for my tardiness, looking specifically at my dad, stepdad, and Uncle Ernie. I sat to the left of Uncle Ernie, not paying attention to any of the other people in the room.

The last binder was issued, and the assistants quickly left the conference room to return to their normal work duties. The silence that had fallen over the room was broken by the warmest breath I had ever felt. And the sexiest, most sensual, gentle, comforting, and mesmerizing voice I’d ever heard whispered close to my left ear, emphasizing each word, “Now we can start.”

My heartbeat had picked up speed in a second, and I sighed while biting my bottom lip. My eyes darted to the left before I turned my head. I gasped out loud—it was Mr. Sexy from the boutique.

Holy fuck!

He looked intensely at me with his burning gray-green eyes.

A few seconds later, Uncle Ernie whispered in my right ear, “He hates it when people are late for meetings and has a very low tolerance for it. Just take what he says, smile, and move on.” Apparently Uncle Ernie thought Mr. Sexy was giving me an earful about being late and that my reactions were the result of his scolding. Never turning my equally burning gaze away from Mr. Sexy, I nodded my head in slow motion at Uncle Ernie in response to what he told me about Mr. Sexy being turned on by me being late and how I must smile and tolerate his burning eyes. I thought that’s what he’d said.

Mr. Sexy wickedly winked at me and finally released me from his burning gaze. Addressing the meeting attendees in a poised, I’m-ready-for-business tone, he said, “We will start the meeting now.”

At that point I was already overheated and saturated in my own sweet juices from the burning whisper of Mr. Sexy’s voice and the thought of his gaze. I had never felt that way about anyone, especially someone who had taken interest in Carmen. I’d been celibate for three and a half years and turned down every guy who had showed the slightest interest in me. But none of those guys had ever made my body respond the way it just had. What was Mr. Sexy doing to me? I cringed inside at the thought that a love interest of Carmen’s had gotten me hot and bothered. I squirmed in my chair at the thought of him.
Focus, Abi. Focus.

“Please turn to page one.” That voice brought me to focus. I glanced to the left of Mr. Sexy’s gorgeous self to see Matt.
Holy shit!
I grinned, and a few people noticed, including Matt himself, who briefly returned the grin.