Dr. Do-Right (Occupational Hazards)

7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

“Malachi!” A man’s booming voice sounded from somewhere behind Mal. I glanced around to find its source. Instead, I saw a woman eyeing us from a huddle of people to my right. I guess I’d have to wait to find out what he was going to do now that his hands were all over me.

“I think we’re causing a scene,” I whispered, inching away just far enough to look up at his beautiful face. His dark eyes were nearly black. Sharp and hungry.

“I’m about to cause a scene, if someone tries to pull me away from you,” he muttered, his gaze skimming down my face to my chest where the silk fell in a daring vee.

“There you are, my man!” The voice came closer.

Mal’s eyes lingered on my skin. “Too late to ditch this place?”

“Aren’t you the keynote?” I murmured, even though I’d love nothing more than to drag him away to somewhere private and yank the tux right off his body.

“Ah, no wonder you took off in such a hurry.”

Mal sighed, his breath stirring a few curls laying across my shoulder. With one last, lingering stroke down my back, he stepped away, hauling me close to his side while we both faced the vaguely familiar middle-aged man who’d approached us.

“Frank, allow me to introduce my girlfriend, Marija Sanchez. She’s a nurse over at Ced…ar…” His words ended in an awkward cough. In the process of introducing me, Mal had finally gotten an eyeful of the rest of my dress.

It was little flashy without being totally slutty (not that I minded slutty, depending on the day). Thin straps held up the deep panels of the bodice, cinching at my waist before giving way to a fall of red silk and a slit that was, admittedly, a little on the sluttier side of flashy.

I barely had the wherewithal to enjoy the look on his face. My brain was still replaying him calling me his girlfriend. A shiver worked its way through me. Mal’s fingers clenched tighter on my waist.

“Well, of course I know Marija. Carl’s girl!” The man leaned forward to offer his hand, unaware of the delicious tension he was interrupting. “You might not remember me. Franklin Pearce.”

I blinked, wrenching my eyes away from Mal to the man in front of us. No wonder he looked familiar. He was the president of the medical school over at Northwestern and a prominent member of the Chicago medical scene. “Dr. Pearce. Of course I remember you. Lovely to see you again.”

He pumped my hand enthusiastically, his other clutching a nearly empty tumbler of amber liquid. “Sanchez. That man’s a machine. I was on the board with him at the Cancer Research Center. Did more in a week than most of us did all year. You want something done, you call Carl. Incredible man. Have you met him?” he asked Mal, finally letting go of me.

“I’m familiar with his work.” Mal’s fingers brushed the tie at my waist, words abrupt, gaze flat. I frowned at him. Mal was known all around the world for his warm, charismatic charm. Bring up my family, though, and he was suddenly frostier than a snowman.

“Amazing man.” Frank barreled on as if he hadn’t noticed the icy tone in Mal’s voice.

“Yes, amazing,” I repeated, glancing around. If he was going to extol my father’s virtues for the foreseeable future, I’d need another glass of champagne.

“You still involved with the research center? I hear good things,” Mal cut in, saving me.

Frank’s face lit up. “Yes, indeed! Just had some amazing trial results cross my desk…”

I slid my hand under Mal’s jacket to stroke his side, thanking him for the assist while Frank droned on. Malachi returned the favor in the form of a caress at my waist. A grabby one. Like he was clutching at me. Like he couldn’t get enough.

I bit my lip to contain the quickly spreading smile on my face. The earlier prickle of unease about my family vanished like magic. Mal and Dr. Pearce chatted some more about the research center before Mal spotted someone in the crowd.

“Dierdre! Have you met Dr. Pearce?” He waved a blonde woman over to where we stood.

“Dr. Dobrev, so good to see you!” She smiled, the tight skin of her face stretching as much as the Botox would allow. “I haven’t had the pleasure. Dierdre Harrington.” She extended her hand to Frank, then to me. I opened my mouth to introduce myself, but Mal beat me to it.

“This is Rija Sanchez. My girlfriend.”

“Harrington? The one they’re naming that new wing of the children’s hospital after? Must’ve cost a pretty penny.” Frank chortled, throwing back the remains of his glass. Dierdre demurred, saying something about the importance of giving back. I tuned them out, watching Mal snatch two glasses of champagne from a passing server.

“You’re throwing that girlfriend title around pretty liberally tonight,” I murmured, taking a flute from him. His fingers smoothed across my hip again.

“That a problem?” His eyes twinkled as he took a sip, my stomach fizzing like the bubbles in his wine.

“No. No problem.”

“Good. Because I’m planning to throw it around a lot more.”

As the man of the hour, it seemed like Mal was passed from group to group for the rest of the night. He didn’t miss an opportunity to introduce me as his girlfriend and found every excuse imaginable to touch me. I was just as bad, stroking the muscles of his back and leaning into his body at every opportunity.

His speech was flawless. He was poignant, witty and hopeful. And after he stepped off the stage to a standing ovation, every ounce of his attention had been focused on me. I’m sure dinner was lovely, though I could hardly remember it. Mal took full advantage of the high slit on my skirt, stroking the bare skin of my thigh under the white tablecloth, always stopping at the top, just short of getting under my skirt. Holy fuck, I wanted him under my skirt so badly.

“Hope you’re ready for a bidding war, dear,” Dierdre whispered as a man on the stage announced the auction was about to start.

“Bidding war?” I might have misheard her. My mind was so wholly in the gutter, my thoughts weren’t working properly. Mal’s fingers tightened on my thigh. Another rush of warmth flooded between my legs. We needed to get out of here soon, before we set the room on fire.

“I assume you don’t want him to go on that lunch date with anyone else. Better be quick!” She patted her bidding paddle, smiling indulgently at me before turning her attention back to the stage.

“Lunch date?” I hissed to Mal. He leaned forward to wrap his arm around my shoulders, fingers circling my skin.

“Lunch…” he trailed off, eyes catching on the low neckline of my dress for a moment. “I auction off a lunch with a fan every year. And I want to lick you right there.”

“Right here?” My fingers slipped up my chest, tracing the line of silk across my breast. He nodded, captivated. “Maybe that’s something you can do at lunch. How much do these dates usually run a gal?”

I wasn’t swimming in cash like the people around me, but I’d dip into savings if I needed to. I wanted that lunch date. And a dinner date. And a morning-after date. All Mal’s dates were mine, now.

His eyes snapped to mine, shining. “Don’t worry about the cost. You’re going to win.”

***

“Holy fuck.”

My heart was racing, cheeks aflame. I fanned myself with an auction brochure. I was fairly certain that I was as close to a panic attack as I’d ever been in my 29 years of life.

“You did so well, Kitten,” Malachi murmured, guiding me past tables and well-wishers. Mostly. I caught the eye of the brunette across the room, who had been gunning for the lunch date hard. She practically snarled at me.

Oh, fuck. “Oh, fuck.”

Mal kneaded my shoulder, steering me to the side of the room and waving at a few folks along the way. Someone grabbed him to say something, and I stood there, swaying on my feet. I was probably in shock.

“Twenty thousand…” Sweat prickled on my neck as Mal said goodbye to whoever he was talking to and led me through the maze of tables once more. The building’s AC had cranked up. The contrast of my heated, adrenaline-filled body and the frigid air pumping through the vents made me feel even more off-kilter.

I’d never spent twenty thousand dollars on anything before. I’m not sure I’d ever even spent five thousand on anything.

“And you won’t have to today.” Mal smiled back at me as we neared a table with a sign that said “Settlement Desk”. Apparently, the shock of spending so much money with just a few raises of my arm had made me babble out loud. “I told you, I’ll cover you. I’ll even pay for lunch. How about that?”

“We just spent twenty thousand dollars to go out to lunch together, and it doesn’t even include the meal?” My head was still reeling, had been since we broke into the five-figure range. The women in that room had been ruthless. It had been an absolute madhouse the second Mal’s face popped up as the next item up for auction. Towards the end, Mal’d had to nudge my arm to make sure I kept bidding. “Bullshit. You’re taking me to McDonalds. I’m getting a Happy Meal.”

“Rija,” he snorted, reaching into his breast pocket to pull out a checkbook.

“I’m serious. You’ll never financially recover from this.” I laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it. He hauled me into his side, nose nuzzling my neck.

“What’s a few grand for an opportunity to have you all to myself for a few hours?”

The woman seated behind the table rifled through some papers and slid them across the table for us to sign. Mal watched carefully when I penned my signature with shaking hands.

“See? Now you’re contractually obligated to go on a date with me. I’ve locked you down, Kitten. No price could be too high.” He winked as he wrote in the checkbook.

I scoffed, like his ridiculous flirting didn’t affect me, when all I really wanted to do was haul him into the shrubbery and have my way with him. “Look at you, paying for dates and using a checkbook. How old are you, anyway? I’m going to start calling you Duck McScrooge.”

I peered over his shoulder just as he ripped the check off the pad, handing it to the woman face-down. He wasn’t fast enough. I’d seen all six figures on that check.

I gasped, eyes going wide. “Mal—”

“Rija! There you are. Quite a show you put on back there.” My mother, oh God, of all people, my MOTHER , strode up to the table. My back straightened, posture correcting automatically in some ridiculous Pavlovian response to her voice.

My mother was here? I thought my parents were supposed to be at some conference in California. At least, that was the excuse she gave me when she’d informed me they weren’t available for dinner on my birthday. Not that I’d asked.

“You could have worn something less revealing tonight. Especially if you were going to make a spectacle of yourself,” she muttered, brushing a perfunctory kiss on my cheek before turning to beam at Mal. She fluffed her black, shoulder-length hair. It was graying, but you’d never know it. She paid her hair dresser good money to take that secret to the grave.

Her high-necked black gown accentuated her tiny waist. Small but mighty was mom’s M.O. Only a spine of steel could have kept up with my dad all these years and not let him run roughshod all over her. No, no. If my dad was the ladder-climber, mom was his spotter. Always on the lookout for the next opportunity. The next good connection. And now there was one right in front of her.

“Doctor Dobrev, Rosalia Sanchez. Such a pleasure to meet you.” She thrust her hand out to Mal. My mother, ladies and gentlemen. From chiding to charming in zero seconds, flat. How does she do it? A true wonder.

“Mrs. Sanchez.” Malachi took his time tucking his checkbook back into his suit. My mom stood there and waited the extra seconds, hand hanging in the air. Just when I thought he’d leave her like that forever, he grasped her fingers, then dropped them like she had a communicable disease.

“It’s an honor. I’m such a fan of your work,” she simpered.

I bit my lip to cover up a nervous laugh. She probably knew nothing about his work. But she knew he was famous, with apparently deep pockets. One. Hundred. Thousand. Damn. “I was looking forward to meeting you tonight. I didn’t realize you’d be here with my daughter. Marija, you should have told us you’d be here. Your father could have found a way to seat you at our table.”

Remarkable, honestly, how she made it sound like she wanted me at her table. Everyone, probably even the lady at the settlement desk, knew who she really wanted at her table.

“I asked Rija to come with me, as my date.”

Good lord, Malachi sounded so cold. I was surprised my mom wasn’t frozen to the spot. She blinked, her gaze turning sharp.

“I see. I didn’t realize you and my daughter were so…close.”

I hadn’t given Sonia a hard time after it had taken her years to introduce me to Malachi. I understood the need to shelter the people you loved from the things that might pull you apart. In my case, my toxic-ass parents tended to chew people up and spit them back out again. It was why Sonia had only ever met them a handful of times, always in passing.

And why I had never, ever mentioned my relationship with Malachi to my parents.

“Mal is Sonia’s brother, Mama,” I supplied, keeping my response short. Sometimes that was best with her.

“And you’ve been friends for long?” Her stare honed into a needle prick of suspicion. Whenever she got her hands on me when Malachi wasn’t around, it was going to be death by a thousand stinging accusations. Why didn’t I tell them I was friends with a famous doctor? How long had this been going on? How could they use him to their greatest advantage?

“Friends, yes. Now, more.” Malachi slid his hand down my arm, landing at my hip.

My mother’s mouth popped open, eyes bugging.

“Rosa! There you are. People at the table are wondering where you got to.”

As if this moment couldn’t get any more awkward, my father rounded the corner. Dad’s tux looked a little snug around his barrel of a chest. Gray peppered his thick mustache and slicked-back hair. Where mom was petite, dad was a skyscraper.

He used to carry me on his shoulders when I was little, and I’d felt like the tallest person in the world. Safe. Untouchable. Larger than life. My dad in a nutshell.

“Ah.” His bluster dimmed when he saw me. Our relationship in a nutshell. “Marija. There you are. Quite the show you put on in front of a whole ballroom of my colleagues.” His attention veered to Malachi, and I was all but forgotten. “Ah, Dr. Dobrev! Carl Sanchez, wonderful to meet you. Heard you’re opening up a new clinic over on…”

“Wacker,” my mother supplied. Of course, she’d already know where his office was. She’d probably been very busy sleuthing tonight when Mal had popped up on her radar. “Right on the loop.”

“Swanky,” Dad chuckled, eyeing Mal, gauging his reaction.

“My assistant will keep an office there for meetings and the corporate bullshit. The clinic is outside of the loop, where the people who actually need my services live.” He swung his attention to me, eyes softening when he met mine. “We’re finished here. Want to go home?”

“Um…” my gaze flickered between my parents. They had their best schmoozing faces on, battle-tested to keep a smile on their faces no matter what tea was spilled or what drama went down.

“Don’t be silly! Marija, bring your friend over to our table. We’ll find room for you.” My mom smirked, probably already imagining the social coup of showing back up at her table with a celebrity.

It wasn’t uncommon for me to join them at these things. Even after they’d cut me off financially years ago, and withheld their affection for years before that, I was often still expected to join them at the big dinners and fundraisers. God forbid someone think we were less than the perfect, happy medical family.

The problem was, I didn’t want to go back to their stuffy little table and do a song and dance for their rich friends. I wanted to hightail it out of here and get Malachi out of his clothes as quickly as humanly possible.

Yet, even with such a powerful motivation to leave, I hesitated. When I’d become a nurse instead of a physician, they’d given up all hope that I’d live up to their ideal of what their daughter should be. Why would they continue to waste time and money on me when it was obvious I wasn’t going to meet their astronomically high expectations?

I could still hear my father’s voice, bellowing, “My daughter will be a doctor, just like me! Just like my father before me! If you’re not planning on becoming a physician…well, maybe you’re not my daughter at all.”

Time and a good round of therapy (at Malachi’s urging) had showed me it wasn’t my fault that my parents found me lacking, and I couldn’t concern myself with their feelings and reactions, when I was just trying to live the best life for me.

But, still…in our hearts, aren’t we all just little kids who want to be loved by our parents? There was a small, timid part of me that couldn’t help wanting to be that dutiful daughter, even now.

“Rija.” Malachi’s voice in my ear turned my head. My eyes connected with his and a heady mix of anger, support and…affection (love?) stared back at me. “I go where you go, Kitten.”

Oh, fuck, did I love this man. Who else on this earth could deliver such a simple show of support, while also galvanizing my spine?

It was one thing for them to drag me around like a little doll. But I’d break into the lion enclosure and offer myself as a fresh sacrifice before letting them get their claws into Mal.

“We’ll head out.” I gave them a tight smile without making eye contact. “Enjoy the rest of the evening.”

I’d barely stopped talking when Malachi whisked me away to the coat check. I fumbled in my clutch for my ticket and a few bucks for a tip. I could feel my parents’ eyes on my back. Hushed whispers echoed in the hallway. They were conferring.

“Ah, yes, the lovely woman in red. Did you enjoy the party?” The attendant took my ticket while Mal did something on his phone. Calling a car, hopefully. Or booking two tickets to Tahiti. I’d have to go international to avoid the reckoning my parents would lay down on me the next time I saw them.

“Yes, it was lovely.” I sounded so breathless, the man might not have even heard my response. My adrenaline was pumping, fight-or-flight kicking in. I’d been trained for nearly thirty years to do what my parents wanted. My body retaliated at my rebellion.

“Dinner, then? Soon? To celebrate your birthday.” Mal set a bracing hand on my back at the sound of my mother’s determined voice. “And you can bring your…friend.” She sounded like it was a done deal.

“I’m, um, not sure, Mom. Let me get back to you.” Avoidance was my friend. Easier to duck her ironclad will via text than in person.

“No, it’ll have to be next week. Sunday. Your father and I are booked solid, but we can make that work.”

“How fucking generous.” Mal’s voice was soft enough that it didn’t carry to where my parents still stood by the settlement desk. I gave him a look. He gave me one right back before raising his voice, calling back to my mother without taking his eyes off me. “Rija is working on Sunday.”

My mother scoffed at his words. “Rija leaves work at four. She can make time for a family dinner. I’ll make Bandeja Paisa. All your favorites!”

“Tamales.” Malachi finally turned to face them. Where was the coat check guy? I peered into the coat closet that was apparently Narnia. Anything to avoid my mother’s eyes. She was like Medusa. She’d freeze me on the spot.

“What?”

“Your daughter’s favorite Columbian food is tamales.”

A pause. I swallowed, wrapping Mal’s hand in mine, because this guy was facing Medusa head on and could still remember my favorite food.

“Of course, that’s what I meant,” Mom tittered.

“We’ll see you both on Sunday.” My dad’s voice was firm. Final. Malachi took a breath, probably ready to fire back something scathing that would make me want to rip his tux off right here in this hallway. The protective thing he had going on here was hot .

But there, a beacon of hope in the darkness. My wrap.

“Yes, Sunday is fine. I’ll text you to figure out the time. Thank you!” I grabbed my wrap from the attendant and shoved a few dollars in his hands. “Have a good night!” I chimed to the general hallway as I rushed towards the doors. The coat attendant, the cashier lady, my parents. Good night to all, and to all a good night. I wanted out of here. Now.