Chapter 1 #2
I’ve never felt anything towards a man because if he’s like my father, I’m better off alone.
“That’s so generous, and I appreciate it. But I can’t just leave my job!” I soften the refusal with a sweet smile. “My colleagues and patients need me here.”
“Fifty thousand.” He says the amount like it’s nothing.
“But…” My brain can’t even process this.
“Fifty, and I respect loyalty. You can finish your shift and hand in your notice then. My men will bring you to my residence afterwards.”
Bring me? Like I’m a bag of shopping? That’s the thing which snaps me out of the trance.
I draw away, and our gazes meet again. There’s darkness, insistence, but also respect in his blue eyes.
“Thank you for the offer, but I can’t do that. I’m sure your men will do fine with helping you. They can return for any extra information they need, or there’s a good website—”
“It has to be you.” His brows lower and he’s back to being the fierce, scary man who gets exactly what he wants in all circumstances.
I tilt my chin up. “I’m not quitting my job. I’ve worked hard to get it, and I’m not leaving for one with better pay but that might be dangerous and not provide a reference.” As though being dead is on the same level as having a gap in my CV.
“This is not a matter of choice, Miss Flowers.” His voice is even but strong. The men around him move to block me in, and I see the gleam of silver.
Guns.
Fear spikes in me. He’s talking about kidnapping me at gunpoint.
I didn’t have this on my bingo card for this shift. I was more thinking excessive amounts of coffee, a couple of unfortunate incidents with bodily liquids getting onto places they shouldn’t, and being so tired I go straight to bed without eating.
Part of me wants to give in. But the same instinct that means I’m a virgin at twenty-three stops me.
Didn’t I have enough experience of what men are like?
How they seem nice, but then you end up “falling” down the stairs.
My mother never complained. She said my father’s temper was normal for a man, and I’ve tried for so long to be smart.
If an ordinary man hurts his wife—and god knows I’ve seen plenty of women in this hospital to back up my mother’s claim—I’m having nothing to do with being close to them.
Reid Maddox isn’t an exception, even if my body responds to him like I’ve never felt before.
“You want me to care for your wounds because you say I have a gentle touch, right?” I ask.
He nods curtly.
“Well, if I’m there against my will, that won’t be an incentive for me to tend your wound nicely. A captive would more likely make it hurt you more.” My voice is shaking, and I can hardly believe I’m standing up to a man who is probably powerful, wealthy, and deadly.
Reid raises his eyebrows. “So money and threats won’t work on you. Interesting. Outside of your job, whose wounds would you tend?”
“Someone I know. And like, or love. My family.” If I had any.
I did lots of things for my mother, but…
My heart squeezes a bit. “My friends.” I don’t have many.
When I left home to become a nurse, my school friends didn’t understand.
And most of the nurses are older than me, with families and no interest in hanging out with me.
“We can be friends, Callie.” The way he says it, friendship sounds like a dark temptation. A forbidden, silky thing that would take my breath away and steal my soul.
“Someone who didn’t have access to anyone else to help them,” I continue.
“My roommate, for instance. The people I house share with.” It’s all medical staff like me in the big drafty old Victorian house.
It has huge windows, a tiny kitchen, old furniture, and insufficient heating.
There are seven of us across three floors, and although we hardly ever see each other because of shift working, every room is taken because it’s cheap and convenient for the hospital.
“I’d do their wound dressings because I live with them. ”
His smile is instant and wicked. A smirk of triumph.
“That can be arranged,” he croons.
Right. If he takes me to his house.
“I’m not tending your wounds if you abduct me,” I say firmly. “That’s not okay, Mr Maddox.”
“Of course not. I understand, and apologise for any offence caused,” he says, dripping with insincerity. “I promise I won’t kidnap you.”
After that, Reid Maddox leaves. I’d like to say with no fanfare, but that would be utterly untrue.
Everyone watches. Not just because Reid is as tall as a house, and surrounded by his men like they’re his bodyguards, and because he’s stunningly gorgeous.
Yeah, in addition to all that, I didn’t imagine his presence.
His charisma. He turns every head in the ward, and I swear some of the nurses from other departments turn up to gawk at him.
His men are clearly worried, and it’s quite sweet. They’re all attempting to be tough while watching out of the side of their eyes to check if their boss is alright.
He’s fine. So much so, that when he reaches the door, he glances over his shoulder and catches my eye, despite the fact I’m trying to be busy with paperwork and not looking at his circus. But my neck prickles, and I look up to find his gaze on me. And then he winks.
The infuriating, beautiful, arrogant bastard, winks at me, and leaves.
The rest of my shift goes by as usual. Hard, messy, worthwhile.
I half expect to see Reid or one of his men waiting for me when I step outside the hospital, but it’s normal.
Nothing happening. I look around constantly as I walk home in the dark.
It’s a drizzly London night, and the uneventfulness of it when work was so extraordinary, is almost disconcerting in itself.
And if I’m a tiny bit surprised and maybe even a touch disappointed when I get to the front door of the house I share, is it so bad?
Reid clearly threatened me with kidnap. But I guess he’s all bark and no bite, and I’m safely home. It’s a good thing.
When I open the door, hang up my coat, and pass by the sitting room, I stop dead in my tracks.
I am hallucinating. I took some drugs accidentally with my hospital coffee. Or someone jabbed me with anaesthetic, and now I’m dreaming.
I blink, and consider fainting.
Because there, reclining on the couch, is Reid Maddox.