Naomi
“You can sit up now.”
I pushed myself into a sitting position, tugging the dress back over my knees as the OB stripped off her gloves and threw them in the trash. I was in an exam room somewhere in downtown LA, having been ushered through a private side entrance into an expensive office building. Dr. Kipley was her name, and her warm smile had immediately put me at ease.
The man in the corner, however, still had me tied up in knots.
“Well?” Gavril asked, lounging in the chair that he had recently sat in and refused to leave during the examination. “How is she?”
Dr. Kipley appeared to be unruffled by his rough tone as she typed away on the laptop before her, cataloging whatever she had found. I couldn’t help but wonder how many of these private visits she had done or who her clie
