Chapter 2 - Charlie
M aking my way back to the emergency department I start putting together a mental list of what I need to do. Quit my job, pack a few suitcases and put the rest of my things into storage. I can plan to stay in Hidden Valley until at least Mila gives birth, and if I’m over small town life by then, I can just come back and pick up where I left off. If I decide to stay, I'm sure I can wrangle someone to help me move the rest of my things from the city.
I'm in such a daze, I barely register when a strong hand grabs my forearm and yanks me into a dimly lit private room. The small space feels even smaller with the privacy curtain pulled and a spare chair taking over the corner.
“Get the fuck off me.” I yell out.
Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time someone has tried to manhandle me at the hospital, however, I’m usually more aware of where people are situated. Still, as the only daughter to a single dad and three older brothers, I'm completely capable of fighting back when I have my wits about me.
With my free hand, I grab the little finger of the hand holding me and I yank it back until the tension snaps and it dangles at an unnatural angle.
It’s amazing how quickly you can distract a person by practically breaking their little finger and also how little remorse I feel about doing it. All I need is the opportunity to create distance between me and this person. Within seconds of them letting go of my arm I turn and give the hardest kick I can right at their balls, before stepping back to try and make sense of why I was dragged in here to begin with. To be honest, it wouldn't matter if it was a woman, man or any other person who grabbed me. A good kick to anyone's nether regions is enough to stop most people in their tracks.
Taking in the scene before me, I see a well-dressed man in a suit and a wool coat, grabbing the balls I just kicked with one hand as he holds the other with the dislocated finger in the air. His knees smack against the hard linoleum floor as he crumbles to the ground. And even though I don't know the man withering on the floor, I instantly know who he's with.
“Dimi? Why do you do this to me,” I groan, taking a second before pushing the privacy curtain open to find my favourite patient leaning against the far wall smiling at me.
“You are the only woman I know that fights dirty, Charlie. That makes three men now you've brought to their knees. I think I'm going to have to get you to train my new guys,” he chuckles.
He looks in perfect health as his suit and heavy coat hide any number of injuries waiting for me.
Tall, with dark hair and olive skin, he oozes control and dominance. Which causes almost everyone I’ve ever seen interact with him, to look away from the intensity of his glare.
“You couldn't afford me Dimi, and I don't like that you do that. What if one of them comes after me or something.” I mumble as I grab an instant ice pack and crack it, sloshing the liquid around as it starts to cool.
“You're safe. If anyone touches you, there are consequences,” he says sternly.
We silently stare at each other for a moment as his dominance remains unwavering and I feel pity for any person who decides to double-cross him. Giving up on our staring contest I hand the man who is now lying in the foetal position on the floor the ice pack, letting him know I’ll sort his finger once he’s feeling a little better, and return to the man currently smirking at me. Dimitriy Sokolov, heir to the Russian Mafia and a large pain in my ass.
“Okay, what happened this time? Show me,” I sass, placing my hands on my hips, waiting for whatever his latest wound is to reveal itself.
Removing his coat and suit jacket, I can immediately see the blood soaking through his black shirt from the way it sticks to his chest.
During one of our first interactions, he explained that his black suit hides blood better so he doesn’t ruin so many clothes. I just laughed and told him he was a John Wick wannabe before I got to work fixing his wounds. Ever since our first unexpected meeting, he always seeks me out if he’s been injured.
“Dimi,” I sigh, “you should be using your Doctor for this. It's so far out of your way to come here. It's ridiculous. You have a shallow wound across your chest that can be fixed by almost anyone on your medical team.”
I don’t know why I even bother to point out the obvious to him. Every time he comes in I say the same thing and every time he just stares at me, looking like a kid who has just been invited to his first birthday party.
“I need to grab a few things from the supply room, okay? Just stay here and try not to scare anyone else,” I say, exacerbated, knowing I need to tell him I’m leaving soon so he doesn’t terrorise any of the other nurses at the hospital if I just disappear.
Chuckling and holding his hands in the air like he's surrendering, he says, “Alright, alright. I’ll be on my best behaviour.”
“That's a good boy,” I reply, winking at him, laughing as I open the door, calling back over my shoulder. “Oh, and take your shirt off completely. And try not to get blood anywhere, it took me forever to get it out of my hair last time.”
Getting the several things I need from the supply room, including a splint to fix the man's finger I dislocated, I see my boss hanging around the nurses’ station and take the moment I need to at least verbally hand in my resignation.
“Alan, hi, sorry to interrupt but some family things have come up and I’ll have to give you my notice, basically, effective immediately. Tonight will be my last shift.” I say, trying not to let him see how uncomfortable he makes me and wanting to get straight to the point.
“Charlie, I'm not sure if you're aware, but you can't just quit. You have contractual obligations. It would be hard for me to give you any sort of future reference if you were to just walk out on us,” he says, with a confident arrogance about him.
I knew he would do this.
Alan, my creepy boss, always makes things harder and always unnecessarily touches you at some point when you’re talking with him.
“Alan, it's an emergency. A family emergency. I have to leave as—”
“Is everything alright here?” Dimi’s gruff voice echoes across the small space cutting me off. Turning to face him, my arms still full of the supplies I'm carrying, I’m confronted by the Bratva man that is Dimitriy . Standing at his full 6’4 height, he demands authority as the wound on his chest slowly drips down his abs. Every scar, muscle and tattoo, on display for anyone to see.
“It’s okay, Dimi. You can go back to the room, I’ll be there in a minute,” I say softly to him. I wouldn’t usually put myself in this position but I’d rather talk to Alan in a public space then have to meet him in his office, and Dimi shouldn’t be here at all.
“Hmm, you see, I don't think it is okay. From what I heard, you were doing the right thing and letting your boss know tonight is your last shift … and then what I heard is he was saying no.” He glares over my head staring straight at Alan. I don't even think he knows how intimidating he can be when he's like this, but then again you don't get far in his line of work if you show weakness, so he probably does.
“Alan, it was Alan, right? And you're Charlie’s boss?”
“Charlie?” Alan questions, his face slowly turning red. He continues to flick his head between Dimi and me, no doubt trying to make sense of why he’s defending me. Everyone knows who Dimi is and what he represents. His visits to the hospital are very low-key events and either himself or one of his men will usually come and get me when I'm on shift. I will then scold him for not using his Bratva Doctor, fix him up and then we part ways until the next time. It can be hours or weeks between each visit but we formed an unlikely friendship that turned into him feeling like family. He will be one of the few people I’ll miss when I leave the city.
Placing his arm around me, Dimi pulls me into his side, so I'm nestled under his arm. Although I’m not one for these kinds of theatrics, I enjoy watching Alan squirm so I play along.
“You see Al, I can call you Al, right? Charlie here is my girl, and she has a family emergency. You wouldn't want to mess with the family now would you Al? You never know what could happen if you start putting your nose where it doesn't belong.”
He says it so casually you would think he was talking about the weather, but the way he’s staring at Alan can not be mistaken for anything other than a threat.
There’s a sheen over Alan's face as he breaks into a sweat, his voice raising an octave higher, his eyes darting all over as he processes what’s happening. “Oh, um, yes. Charlie, that's perfectly alright. I’ll process all the required paperwork and you can collect it at the end of your shift.”
“Thank you, Alan, I appreciate it,” I say happily, before nudging into Dimis' side, turning to leave.
“Oh and Al,” Dimi calls out over his shoulder, stopping and turning to face Alan once more, “I'll be watching,” he says menacingly. A grin spreads over his face as he stares at Alan far longer than he needs to.
The man whose balls I kicked glares at me as we approach the small private room we’re using. He’s still icing them and I give him an I’m sorry look before entering the room, leaving him to guard the door from the hallway. Motioning to Dimi, he sits on the bed as I lay out what I need to start closing the wound on his chest.
“Thank you for doing that. I would have gotten there in the end but I appreciate your help.” I say, gently wiping around the wound, trying to clean off as much blood as I can.
“When do you leave?” Is all he responds gruffly.
“In a week or so, I have to sort my apartment and then I’m moving to that town I told you about a few months ago. Hidden Valley, where my friend got married. The one in the middle of nowhere, high in the Mountains. She’s pregnant and she’s struggling,” I say almost zoning out thinking of everything I need to organise.
“You know if you stay, we could get married and you would never want for anything,” he says, a flicker of vulnerability flashing across his face as he looks at me, waiting for my reaction. Tenderly, I place my hand on his cheek as he closes his eyes to my touch.
“Dimi, you know I love you. I just don't love you like that. That kiss we had was like kissing my dad,” I whisper. A shiver runs through me causing me to pull my hand away.
“I know it was weird. I was there too. Trust me to find the only woman in the city who wants to be my friend. You’re the only one who treats me like a person, Charlie. Why don't we get married and just stay friends?” he says, running his hand through his hair, looking at me with sagging shoulders. For a second he looks defeated, his posture sagging.
“What's with all the marriage talk? You never bring it up like this,” I say quietly, as I slowly place butterfly stitches across the shallow wound slashed into his chest.
“It’s nothing, well, I hope it's nothing. I think my father is planning my marriage to another family and if I’m already married then he can’t,” he mumbles. Looking like a regular guy for a moment and not the hardened Bratva man he is to everyone else.
“I’m sorry. That’s got to be hard to deal with. I may not want the whole nuclear family life, but I do want to find someone who I love and who loves me … actually, there is a guy I met a while back. You know the one from my friend’s wedding,” I say, smiling at the thought.
“You mean the one I’m scarred from because you told me how he tied you up and fucked you in a basement,” he says, scrunching his nose up at me.
“Yep,” I say, emphasising the popping sound of the letter p. A massive grin spreads across my face as I take joy in seeing how grossed out he is.
“I’m just saying, I might be able to test the waters and see if he’s looking for something more. I’m a little tired of playing the field, you know. All of the meaningless hookups are leaving me a little numb these days and I’m starting to think it’s time for me to settle down ... just not with you.” I quickly add, grinning at him.
“I’ll let you leave as long as I can help you. You have my contact details but my men will be over tomorrow to help you pack and sort whatever you need to.”
“Dimi, I’m fine, and anyway, you don’t know where I live,” I say, rolling my eyes at his protectiveness.
“I know everything about you,” he smirks, “and you’re not taking that shit car of yours either. You can have one of mine.”
“Dimi,” I growl, feigning seriousness. “I’m not taking one of your cars. You are so dramatic all the time.”
I love the ease of the relationship we have. There was a time I thought I might be able to push through my lack of romantic feelings for him, but the one time we tried and the kiss happened, it was immediately clear to both of us that we could only ever be friends.
“You’ll do it or I’ll tie you up in my basement and I have a lot more tools I can use on you than that guy did,” he says sternly, trying not to smile.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” I can’t help but laugh, returning to place the last few butterfly stitches across his wound, grateful that I got to have this moment with him before I move away.