LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER ONE

      THE HOLLYWOOD SIGN flashed intermittently into Abi’s peripheral vision as she wound her way up into the Hollywood Hills. Her heart rate accelerated as she drew closer to her destination and she felt her palms go clammy as her nervousness increased a notch or two. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, not wanting her hands to slip as she fought back the wave of panic that threatened to overwhelm her. She hadn’t expected to feel quite so terrified today. She’d rehearsed this, she’d prepared for this. She could do this.

      She had debated about catching a cab for her first day but had decided that if she could drum up the courage to drive that would give her the freedom that waiting for a taxi wouldn’t, and in order to prepare she’d done a trial run yesterday with Jonty. She’d needed to know where she was going and she’d needed to make sure it was safe. Bringing Jonty yesterday had given her courage and confidence but today she was travelling solo.

      One more corner to go and then she was able to turn off the steep, winding road into the staff parking area for The Hollywood Hills Clinic. The iconic Hollywood sign loomed large above her again, its fresh white paint stark against the dull green and brown of the hillside and the shrubby flora that sprouted there. She swiped her card at the gate and waited nervously for it to open. The staff car park was secure, fenced and gated, and she was relieved to see the addition of good lighting and CCTV cameras. She breathed a sigh of relief as she squeezed her second-hand, two-door, soft-top 4x4 between two immaculately shiny sports cars.

      She took a moment to sit quietly in her car as she summoned up the nerve to get out of the vehicle. It had taken all her courage to get into her car this morning and now that she was here she needed to find some more. Starting a new job and meeting new colleagues was going to test her limits. She was in the rebuilding phase, trying to cope with the stress of life, and anything unexpected could, and often still did, unsettle her. She needed to find the strength to get out of her car. She closed her eyes and rehearsed the process her psychologist had taught her. She imagined herself walking—no, not walking, striding—confidently into the building and introducing herself to her new colleagues. It would be fine. She could do this. This was a safe environment. She had a plan and she had to believe things would go accordingly.

      She gathered her bag, took a deep breath and opened her door very carefully, mindful of the pristine paintwork of the car beside her. She’d made it this far this morning, she’d found the strength to negotiate the LA traffic and now she was here. She held a conversation with herself in her head as she stepped out into the morning sun and followed the sign to the clinic. A short path took her to the front of the building and as she rounded the corner the vista took her breath away.

      The view was incredible. The crisp, blue February sky was clear of smog, just one of the bonuses of winter, and she could see over Los Angeles out to the coast where the Pacific Ocean shimmered in the morning sun. She turned her attention to the building itself. It was long and low, sleek and white. A massive wall of windows, shiny and gleaming, faced west, taking in the stunning view, and a semicircular driveway swept around in front of the glass separated from the building by a wide plaza bordered by sculpted, orderly, perfectly manicured gardens and hedges.

      There was a low, unobtrusive sign of silver lettering on a white background that read ‘The Hollywood Hills Clinic’ in front of the building. Despite its name, the overall impression that she got was that she was about to step into a five-star resort, not a medical clinic. The sign didn’t need to be large. Everyone who arrived here knew exactly where they were. No one’s arrival at the clinic would be unplanned or unscheduled.

      Her job interview had been conducted by phone and although she’d been on the internet and done her homework on the clinic and its management, nothing had prepared her for the reality. The first impression, from the exterior of the building alone, was definitely one of privilege, wealth and exclusivity.

      Abi could see her reflection in the glass facade as she approached the front entrance and she self-consciously straightened her navy jacket and made sure her shirt was tucked into her pencil skirt. Her civilian clothes felt unfamiliar. The fabric was slippery and light compared to the thicker, more robust fabric of her army uniform and tended not to stay in place quite so firmly. Her low heels clicked on the pavers as she crossed the plaza area and she wondered if she was underdressed. If the luxury cars parked in the staff car park were any indication, she suspected her colleagues were going to be a hell of a lot more sophisticated than her. She suddenly felt like a country bumpkin on her first day in the big city.

      You grew up in LA, she reminded herself. You can do this. You are an excellent doctor, you will be a valuable member of staff.

      She didn’t have to fit in; she just had to do a good job. She needed a job, this job, as her money wasn’t going to last for ever and her psychologist had suggested, rather strongly, that it was time for her to start testing her reserves and her limits.

      As the glass doors slid open Abi noticed a helicopter landing pad positioned at the far end of the building. It wasn’t on the roof, neither was it tucked away discreetly out of sight, but instead it sat out the front, making a bold declaration that this was a place for the privileged and wealthy. Were people planning on making a statement as they arrived? That wouldn’t surprise her given the sensational appearance of the clinic itself. The building alone certainly looked as though it was out to make a statement. Time would tell her what that statement was.

      An expansive, modern foyer greeted her. A reception desk stood at one end in front of a wide window that looked out to the city below and on the opposite side of the foyer was a large courtyard with a central water feature and several oversized sculptures. More sculptures were displayed in the foyer itself and artworks hung from the walls. The look was reminiscent of a contemporary art gallery that had been merged with a very expensive and exclusive hotel. The artworks were beautifully lit and the foyer was sleek and modern.

      She approached the reception desk, which was a long slab of marble. An enormous flower arrangement was positioned at one end and two chandeliers hung above it. The more Abi saw, the more the clinic looked like a five-star hotel—six-star, even, if there was such a thing. There wasn’t much to indicate it was a medical facility. Even the woman behind the desk looked as if she had stepped out of a fashion magazine. Her hair was styled in a neat bob and her make-up had been expertly applied, and Abi felt more and more like the country cousin who expected to be evicted for not being glamorous enough.

      She tried to ignore her misgivings as she introduced herself to the receptionist and explained that Freya Rothsberg was expecting her. Abi knew the clinic was owned by Freya and her brother, James. James was a world-renowned reconstructive surgeon who specialised in cosmetic surgery, and, from what

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