BILLIONAIRE FOR KEEPS: Book 3 (Point St. Claire, where true love finds a way) by Robyn Grady Page B

please―”
    Another person rushed into the room.
    Nevil Tremont was her father’s long time doctor. Tremont had also cared for Vanessa’s grandfather, the Toomey patriarch who had gone to his maker after coronary episode number three. Now Tremont placed his medical bag on the floor next to her father’s chair. Lean and tall in his Hawaiian print weekend shirt, the doctor looked down his bifocals at his old friend.
    “What have you been up to this time, Ronan?”
    Her father found a frustrated grin. “Minding my own business last time I looked.”
    “He needs rest,” Vanessa said. “He needs to understand how serious this is.”
    “We all need to stay calm ,” the doctor pointed out before he smiled, reassuring them both. “Wait outside,” he suggested. “I’ll check his vitals. An ambulance is on its way.”
    Vanessa gave her father’s clean shaven cheek a heartfelt kiss before heading out. She passed Griffin at the door. His shoulders were still squared, but for once, he looked blindsided. Downright shaken. 
    Out in the adjoining room, Vanessa wandered over to an unlit fireplace. A moment later, Griffin was there, resting a supposedly comforting hand on her shoulder. His deep rich voice was too close to her ear.
    “I’m sorry. Nessa, I didn’t know.”
    Staring blindly ahead, she lifted her chin. “Well, now you do.”
    “I’m sure Ronan will be fine.”
    Edging away, she moved to a window and a view of the grounds where she had played as a girl, back when there were three of them. When everything was a game and death was an abstract reserved for gnarly queens in fairytales.
    Griffin tried again. “If there’s anything I can do―”
    “There’s not.”
    She heard him groan. “Nessa, we need to move past this―”
    “ Don’t tell me how to feel, Griffin.”
    “I’m sorry we argued.”
    She turned to face him. He looked so darkly handsome. So vulnerable and human.
    She’d fallen for that one before.
    “What are you still doing here?”
    A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Ronan and I have a collaborative deal to close.”
    “On a Sunday?”
    So typical of her dad. Sure, she’d been on the clock today too, but she was also forty years younger, and minus a heart condition.
    The second her father’s office door opened, Vanessa shot forward.
    Tremont spoke to Griffin. “Mr. Hayes, Ronan wants to see you.” Vanessa started for the door too, but Tremont held up a hand. “Ronan asked to see Mr. Hayes alone.”
    Vanessa watched, speechless, as Griffin strode back into the room. As the door closed again, she crossed her arms, shook her head.
    Unbelievable . In the wake of a heart attack, and all Ronan could think about was closing some deal. It was different when she was little, when her mom was alive. Her dad had still worked hard, but he was always home for dinner. Always had time to listen to her stories. On weekends, she’d help him assemble his model boats, handing bits over as he asked. If ever she wanted his opinion on a doll dress design that she’d drawn, he had always offered a thoughtful response.
    Then there were those summers spent in a quiet seaside town north of here.
    Griffin’s hometown. 
    Vanessa was ready to rap on that door―the waiting was driving her insane―when the sound of an ambulance siren echoed up from the driveway. A moment later, Wendy brought the team through at the same time Tremont threw open that office door.
    As she edged forward, Vanessa’s head began to prickle. The tips of her fingers went numb. The doctor had wanted calm. But suddenly now everything was rushed and noisy and turned upside down. People calling instructions. Wendy gasping then breaking down. And Griffin was there in her face, telling her everything would be all right. Ronan would be fine.
    But her father was splayed out on the floor, shirt torn open. When resuscitation paddles were placed on his bare chest―skin that looked so pale―Ronan’s body convulsed. Then the paddles were applied