Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Annika
Stepping off the sky bridge, I’m hit by a wave of warm air.
The inside smells expensive. A subtle, almost-smug mix of citrus and sandalwood, with a whisper of fresh-cut flowers from the massive arrangements perched on glossy marble tables. The kind of smell that doesn’t just say money, but class.
Given the more-than-average pay I got to live with Martha, I know that Dr. Cross is loaded. But this is… something else.
My feet stall as I take in the view. The floor-to-ceiling windows show off the city lights, a shimmering kaleidoscope against the black, rain-soaked night. Their glow bounces off granite floors so polished they look like pools of still water.
I can’t escape my reflection in the polished gold of the elevator doors.
Damp and wrinkled, my dress clings to me like a second skin. My knee stings where I scraped it earlier, and my hair—God, my hair—is an unholy mess, stuck to my neck in limp, sweaty strands. I look like I got lost on the way to a frat party.
Instinctively, I glance at Dr. Cross. He’s had a day of it too, right?
Luckily, he was scheduled to fly in from New York today. With the time difference, it means he’s been traveling all day.
He looks completely at ease though, like he’s been walking through places like this his whole life. And maybe he has.
But it’s not just that. He looks like someone who knows what wine pairs with what dish and could actually pronounce “charcuterie” without sounding like an idiot.
Standing here now, I wonder if I made a mistake by agreeing to come with him. Because this isn’t just luxury. This is a universe that people like my brilliant family populate.
My older sister, Asha, would completely own this place. Whereas I feel like the plush chairs in deep emerald and sapphire scattered around the lobby are daring me to sit down in my skanky dress.
A grand staircase curves upward, its bronze railing catching the light like liquid gold, and somewhere above, smooth jazz hums along with the clink of glasses from the mezzanine bar.
A hollow pang blooms in my chest.
What could a man like Dr. Cross possibly see in me? I mean, yes, I cared for his mom, and I’m good at that stuff—showing up, helping people—but beyond that?
I’m a professional liar, hiding from my family, and standing here, I feel every inch the imposter I am.
Dr. Cross glances at me, expression unreadable.
I force myself to meet his gaze, bracing for… I don’t know. But all I find in his eyes is warmth, steady and sure, like he doesn’t see the mess at all. Or maybe he sees it and doesn’t care.
It’s almost worse, the way he looks at me. Like I could belong with him .
The thought makes my chest tight, and I tear my gaze away, focusing instead on the towering floral arrangement in the center of the lobby.
“You’re second-guessing this,” he says. “I’ll ask for a separate room at the reception.”
I turn so fast to face him I get a crick in my neck. Dismay fills me at the out he’s giving me. Martha’s not wrong. He’s a gentleman, through and through. “No. Don’t want to be alone tonight,” I say, clearing my throat.
For all that I call myself a chaos gremlin, I’ve never given in to my wilder side. Bad enough that I got slotted into “the difficult child” and the “doesn’t apply herself” boxes early on. For two brilliant surgeons in their respective fields, my parents can be horribly short-sighted.
If I really give in to all the urges I bury deep inside, there’s no telling what I might become and what they will think of me.
Plus, I’m afraid. Really afraid of the depths of my needs and desires.
Dr. Cross’s mouth purses. “Putting you up in a room of your own is the least I can do for you, Ms. Rao.”
I frown at the formality of his words, my empty belly sloshing like an undergrad at a spring break party. Now that he’s taken away the prospect of his company, I realize how much I want it. Swallowing, I turn my mind back over what had just happened. And it comes to me. “What I meant to say was that I want to spend the night with you. Not just be… not alone.”
When he continues to frown, I say, “That’s two negatives, Dr. Cross. It probably requires too much brain power from you. Especially at this time of the night.”
He leans in, and I’m hit again by the warmth of his body. And the cocktail of cologne and sweat. He smells amazing, and all I want to do is lick him up. “Careful, Ms. Rao. I’m not unaware of the fact that you’re provoking me yet again.”
I blink my lashes, trying to act innocent. “Into what?”
“Into proving my stamina. As tacky as that sounds.”
I grab my lower lip with my teeth, catching the request that wants to slip out.
Prove it to me, please. Use those broad shoulders and those large hands to pin me down and have your wicked way with me. Make me feel owned. Make me feel like I belong to you, for one night.
His gaze flashes, as if he can read those words burning my lips. Leaning close, he tugs the lower one free. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
My core clenches. If he orders me around in that tone, I’ll do whatever he asks of me. “Not sure that’s a good idea,” I say, fighting the urge to lean into him. “Someone like me can’t afford honesty.”
“Someone like you?”
“Forget I said that,” I mumble, looking down at the leather straps of the stilettos biting painfully into my flesh.
“Annika?”
The way he says my name weaves a direct connection to my needy heart. “I’m not… sophisticated or have my shit together to be at a place like this. With you.”
A finger under my chin tilts it up, forcing me to meet those gray eyes. The sight of him, close enough that I can see the crinkly lines at the edge of his mouth, anchors me. The posh hotel, the overwhelming grandeur, the gnawing doubts, all flee like mice in front of a fat ginger cat.
Just him and me… that I can do.
“It’s just a building. Grander than most, yes, but made of walls and foundation like anything else.” He looks around himself and then back at me. “Did Mom ever tell you about the time I snuck into a wedding reception as a med student?”
“You?” I say, pulled out of my head at the image of him doing something so juvenile. “No.”
“I ran out of grocery money for the week and was determined not to ask Mama for more. So, I borrowed my roommate’s best suit and snuck in.” His laughter rocks through me as we make our way toward the bank of gleaming elevators. “I ate enough for two days.”
I grip his arm to arrest his long strides. “You aren’t making it up, are you?”
“Not at all. I even met this girl at the reception. She invited me to her room, and we hooked up.”
My mouth falls open just as the elevator doors swish open. The mirrors in the car frame us, and my belly lurches as it rides up.
Our eyes meet in the reflection. Tall and broad, Dr. Cross engulfs me. But our bodies don’t touch at any point. I wish they did.
“If I remember right, my… performance wasn’t great that night.”
Laughter bursts through me, reminding me why I have a crush on him. Even without having met him. “What happened?”
“I ate too much.” He pats his flat stomach as if in remembrance. “She was one of those uppity princesses who didn’t want to do anything. She just laid there and expected me to do all the work.”
“Whereas you prefer to put your partner to hard work?” I blurt out.
My gasp is as loud as the violent boom of thunder in the small space. Heat floods me. For all that I have all these urges, I’m not great at flirting. I mean, the fact that Rahul and I clung to each other under the guise of a relationship was testament enough.
But this man… he does something to me. Flips a switch that makes me feel bold, brazen, and utterly unashamed of my needs.
Dr. Cross chuckles. His warm exhale blows over the tiny hairs on the nape of my neck, sending tingles to my lower belly.
“I do,” he says, catching my gaze in the mirror again. God, the man can eye-fuck like it’s an Olympic sport, and he’s going for the gold. “And then reward my partner for all that hard work in as many inventive ways as I can think of.”