Page 42 of Lethal Attraction

Then it’s a good thing I know how to handle a brat.

Little Devil:

Those are fucking words, Dr. Dreamy.

Looks like I’ll have to come and scoop you up for our second date soon.

My eyes shift to the time and I curse before typing out a quick message to let Thalia know I’m heading to surgery. I tuck my phone back into my scrubs pocket before tossing my cold lunch and heading out into the main hall of the East Wing.

My walk is rushed as I follow the path to the OR. I’m distracted by the tall glass windows that lead out to the gardens just behind the facility when I bump into someone. My hands reach out on impulse, grabbing the poor woman’s biceps as I prevent her from dropping to the dirty hospital floor.

“I’m so sorry,” my apology is strained once I realize who it is.

Galene Harthwrite, the director of the hospital, is composed and professional in her appearance, but I can see below the surface. She’s dressed in an ironed blouse with an expensive blazer buttoned just below her chest. The slacks she wears cling to her legs, leading to the tall heels she clicks through the halls in. Beautiful diamond earrings dangle from her ears, and her neck is adorned in gold jewelry. She’s the epitome of wealth and greed in the healthcare system.

Her painted-pink lips pull up into a sultry smile as she places her left hand over mine. Her wedding ring, a rock that’s massive and elegant, glints in the light shining from the windows. “Dr. Bellamy! What a surprise.”

I release her quickly, drawing back from her prying touch. “My apologies, Mrs. Harthwrite.”

She waves a hand. “Nonsense! It’s always a pleasure running into you.”

I give a distracted chuckle. “I’m headed to surgery—”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the gala Burton is throwing?” She probes, ignoring my urgency.

“I have.”

Her smile spreads as her eyes flicker to my lips. “My husband is working that day and won’t be able to attend…”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I need—”

She cuts me off. Again. “Oh, you’re not hearing me, Reed.” She places her hand on my chest, her fingers curling into my coat as she gets uncomfortably close. “We should go together.”

I have a hell of a poker face, but not in this instance. My lips twist as I remove her hand from me and step back. “I already have a date, and I don’t appreciate you stepping over a boundary that I’ve put in place since I started here two weeks ago. I respect you as my senior, but I won’t hesitate to report you to HR.”

Obstinacy flashes in her eyes as she draws her hand back. “You’re so funny—”

“I’m not laughing, Galene.”

Her mask falls, giving way to the predator-like stare of a ravenous beast. “No, you aren’t, but I believe you may have forgotten that I own this hospital.”

“You own an object,” I sneer. “Not a person. Don’t mistake respect for obedience. It’ll be your downfall.”

Her eyes narrow. “Very well. I’ll crack you one of these days. I do hold your career in the palm of my hand.”

“Excuse me. I have to get to the OR,” I brush past her, shaking my head. That woman has let the feeble power thrust upon her go to her head. Her threat should rattle me, but all I can think of is how Thalia would react to knowing that a superior is regularly trying to force herself on me.

I can’t stop thinking of the raven-haired beauty all through my surgery. My hands move with methodical stillness, but my mind is elsewhere as I let muscle memory take over. The nurses and scrub techs move around me, conversing as I remain solely focused on my task.

The four hours pass quicker than I expected, and I scrub down before trailing back to the ER. I fish my phone out of my pocket, prepared to text Thalia that the surgery was a success, when her waiting message makes my blood run cold.

Little Devil:

Tell that bitch if she touches what’s mine again, I’ll cut her fucking hands off.

My head whips up, and I glance around frantically with a furrowed brow.

Is she watching me?