Chapter 4
E mmeline
Strange things had been happening all week. I’d had a spate of long shifts, overtime, and emergencies that chewed up any free time I had that didn’t need to be spent sleeping. But I hadn’t missed the fact that my bullish neighbour no longer parked over my bay, or that he wouldn’t meet my eye. His Tesla had a cracked roof, which was odd. Almost like someone with a heavy fist had punched it. Perhaps that was why he was being more careful.
Also, I’d come out of the health appointment ordered by the warehouse to find a suspiciously new-looking tyre on my car where I was sure it had been balding before. Maybe I’d imagined it. I was working so hard, sometimes life outside of work got blurry.
That fact hadn’t stopped me from obsessing over the meeting I’d had to run out on. I still hadn’t called them back, even though I’d passed the physical and managed to book two weeks off work.
I hoped it could be enough.
I hadn’t yet confirmed my spot. Though I was sure to after meeting The Warrior in that corridor.
God, that had the power to keep me up at night, if exhaustion hadn’t dragged me into dreams of the huge man.
At my appointment with the skeleton-masked man, we hadn’t finished talking when my phone call interrupted us. What I’d heard about the game had been eye-opening, though. My interviewer had run through a list of criteria I needed to meet before he’d consider me as a candidate. My age wasn’t a problem, and there was the medical I knew I’d pass. He’d told me what the men had to guarantee—their health and wealth. The fact they’d never lay a hand on any woman in anger or risk being set upon by the gang. Their commitment to the lady they won.
Then he’d moved on to the rules.
Even remembering what he’d listed set me on fire every time I thought of it.
Twenty men hunted five women. Once I was in the basement, there was no way out until one of the men had claimed me. They beat each other bloody to be the victor over the woman they wanted. Then the couple were somehow tied together.
I was missing two pieces of information and hadn’t had the guts to call them back and ask for the answers.
In the doctor’s staffroom, I pulled my phone from my locker. This morning, I’d been summoned to a meeting with the chairwoman of the care board that commissioned my job, and I had twenty minutes until I needed to attend it.
Which gave me just enough time to put my thoughts to rest. There were too many people here for this kind of conversation, so I snuck outside and took a walk down the busy city street outside the hospital.
My call was answered on the first ring.
It was a Scottish voice, the man who’d interviewed me whose name was Shade. Or his gang name, more likely.
“Ms Watts. I’m glad to hear from ye.”
“Thanks for taking my call, Mr Shade. There were a couple of things I wanted to ask.” I stifled my nerves. “The last part of the game… We didn’t get to the end of the rules.”
“Aye, we didn’t. Ye know how it starts. Once a man has chosen his lass, he fights off all others to claim her.”
“What does that mean exactly? The claiming part.”
His tone took on an amused edge. “Excuse the vulgar language, but ye aren’t in Kansas anymore if you’re in our basement. The man fucks the woman on the floor. He makes his claim in the most basic way possible and in front of anyone else left conscious.”
My breath left me in a rush. I should be horrified. Should be hanging up the phone. Instead, I held it tighter to my ear. “And in front of the cameras?”
He clucked his tongue. “I know that could be a conflict of interest for someone in a position like yours, but bear in mind that many of our candidates have reputations to uphold. Some are public figures. The cameras stream to rented bedrooms in our warehouse and to our sex club. In other words, other people fuck to the action. But it’s never recorded, and all phones are confiscated so there’s no visible record. That doesn’t mean that ye won’t be recognised, and if ye want, we’ll supply a mask like the one I wore when we met. Just be aware it might be torn off ye along with the rest of your clothes. Most lasses end up naked. The men, too.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, a pulse throbbing between my legs that was entirely inappropriate in a public street.
“That’s fine,” I squeaked out.
If a patient saw me, then they’d never believe their eyes. If a colleague or someone more senior than me witnessed it, they’d be as culpable as I was. After all, they were the one in the sex club or rented bedroom doing dirty things to the show. Strangely, I found that I didn’t care about the exhibitionism part.
It excited me. Every bit of it. But that was all to do with the man I imagined claiming me.
I’d been right about Malachi Hunan. The hint he’d dropped in that interview wasn’t a random comment about chasing someone. He’d been talking about the game. I was almost certain.
It might be the same one as me if I just said yes.
“Will Mr Hunan be in the same game?” I blurted then pressed my shaking fingers to my mouth. What had possessed me to voice that?
Shade snorted. “I cannae confirm details about another contestant. Not for blood nor money. Though I’ve got to say it’s funny that question came at me in reverse.”
Without giving me a second to linger on the implications of his last sentence, he continued. “After the claiming has taken place, your man will carry ye from the building and into your waiting transport. Ye go home together. Then for thirty days, he’s yours and you’re his. Ye live together. Ye fuck daily. Ye don’t leave each other’s side for more than a couple of hours in the first week then a little longer for the rest of the time. By the end of the month, you’ll commit or quit. But just so ye know, every other couple has stayed together. We haven’t had a single breakup in all the times of running this.”
It all sounded so perfect. Exactly what I wanted. Except my heart had sunk down to my surgeon’s Crocs. “A whole month? I don’t think I can commit to it. At least not right now.”
In fact, I knew I couldn’t. The two weeks’ leave I’d already arranged had been a stretch that would almost certainly be cut into with emergencies. Normally I wouldn’t mind. Healing people was my calling. Just this once, I needed time for myself.
My interviewer paused. “I understand your workload as a doctor must be fierce, but it’s a requirement I can’t change. Ye have to clear the space in your diary.”
I was gutted. Like someone had sliced into my belly and all my brand-new hopes spilled out. “Isn’t there another way? Surely not every couple has done this?”
“I guarantee they have. If there’s an urgent need during the thirty days, they go to work together, and from what I’ve heard, usually end up fucking on desks once the business is done. We have CEOs and business owners. Specialists in all kinds of fields. But most take the whole month off. It’s a fast track to a committed relationship like no other and a big part of the draw for busy people.”
I got that completely. I understood. A deep sense of longing had burned through me. The claiming was one thing. The violence, the blood, the fights. But the long-term goal was that commitment forged in those extreme circumstances and which would endure because of it.
“I know this is a lot,” he said. “I don’t mean to play hardball, but ye left it some time to call me back. I need to know if you’re in or out. I was about to offer the place to the next lass on my list, but if ye want it, say now.”
I did. So badly. But I couldn’t make it work.
The game was running on Friday night. There was no way I could manage to get a whole month off by then. It was unthinkable. Nor could Malachi come into surgery with me when I had to work. In my head, of course only he would win me.
Except it just couldn’t be.
“I’m so sorry for wasting your time. I can’t make it work.”
Shade murmured understanding, and we got off the call.
My phone beeped with a reminder of my meeting, and I trudged back into the hospital and up the stairs.
I couldn’t think what the care board wanted with me today. My job was secure. The promotion to consultant I dreamed about was a few years away at least, dependent on one of the older people in that job retiring. Only last Christmas, at our surgeons’ party, everyone I’d talked to had confirmed they had no plans to leave soon.
I hadn’t minded until this moment. I’d been content to wait, racking up the years of service. Now, I just wished one of them had developed a sudden love for travelling or family. Anything but keeping their career.
In the office suite on the executive floor, high above the patient rooms and surgical wards I practically lived on, I settled my disappointed soul and pulled on the professional exterior I needed to get through the meeting.
In the conference room, Abigail Pearce rose from behind a table and offered a hand for me to shake. She’d been part of the commissioning board which had given me my position here at Deadwater Hospital, and now she was chairwoman.
It was odd that she was here alone.
“Doctor Pearce, congratulations on the promotion,” I greeted her.
The woman, in her sixties with a tidy blonde bob, inclined her head. “Abigail, please, and thank you. I have an opportunity to present to you today, one which has come around earlier than expected. Are you aware of Doctor Manley’s retirement plans?”
I stared at her. “Doctor Manley is retiring?”
Her lips twitched. “The commissioning board has been informed of Doctor Manley’s intention to retire. Somewhat earlier than anticipated, though she assures us her reasons are good ones. Just this week, she gave us her three months’ notice. We are now looking for a new candidate to take over.”
My breath caught. Doctor Manley’s job was one I’d had my eye on ever since my placement in Deadwater had started. I’d worked tirelessly to be in the running for a consultancy post. It changed everything. It would give me the office hours I craved. A normal routine with emergencies being picked up by other surgeons and a manageable caseload.
This was everything I wanted.
At least everything that hadn’t been eclipsed by Malachi Hunan-shaped desire.
My pulse quickened and sped like I was in a race.
The offer of a consultancy post also came with an added bonus. Generally, between positions, it was permitted for doctors to take time off. I’d heard of surgeons taking a month and using it to settle life issues like getting married or moving house. It was often granted with little notice to enable them to be present for the last working months of the consultant they were replacing.
With that time, I could commit to the game after all. Damn. If I hadn’t already lost my chance for good.
In a rush, my hopes and excitement returned. Urgency, too.
Abigail’s kind gaze brightened. “I see you are picking up what I’m laying down. The board met this morning and created a shortlist of candidates. I’m very pleased to say that you were top, Doctor Watts. I’m pleased to offer you the consultancy position you’ve worked tirelessly toward. What do you say?”
“Yes! I mean, I’d be delighted. I’m so grateful for the consideration and the offer. You have no idea how much this means to me.” I held down an urge to hug the woman. “There is one small matter I’d like to discuss.”
Something I almost couldn’t dare voice, but so much rode on it.
Abigail heard my request for leave and nodded. “May I ask what you intend to do in that timescale?”
I exhaled shakily. I was insane for even saying the words. “Get married.”
It’s what Shade had said. Couples committed within that thirty-day timescale. They didn’t break up after. It was as good as a marriage and the best way I could explain it.
She smiled broadly. “Every good surgeon needs someone at home looking after them. I will make the arrangements.”
In absolute happy panic, I stepped from the room and stabbed at my phone to dial the last-called number, begging it to be answered.