Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
AZARA
“Are you okay?” Hazel and Nakia asked in unison as they answered my video chat call.
“Ugh, that absolute arsehole,” I scoffed, slamming the entrance door to my flat and aiming to toss my keys into the wooden bowl on the entryway table, but missed.
They clattered to the floor with a resounding thump.
Could this day get any worse?
I pinched the bridge of my nose, letting out a heavy sigh before bending down to pick them up, this time successfully throwing them into their designated place.
“I can’t believe him,” I muttered under my breath, kicking off my shoes and padding further into my flat.
“Um, Z, did we miss something?” Hazel asked and I heard sheets ruffling in the background.
I glanced down at my phone to find their faces staring back, their brows furrowed with concern. I’d nearly forgotten I’d called them.
Nakia appeared to still be at the gallery from the stacks of paintings propped behind her, while Hazel seemed to have already been in bed with the way she quietly closed her bedroom door before settling on her pink couch in her living room and turning on a small lamp.
Closing my eyes for a brief moment, I inhaled deeply, before bringing my phone up. “I know it’s late, but if I don't get this off my chest, I might call you in a few days with a body to bury,” I explained, tossing my large work tote onto the couch and heading for the kitchen after getting the alert on my phone that my sugar was trending low.
I’d been able to manage throughout the day, but I’d barely eaten because my schedule had been abnormally filled with back-to-back surgeries. The workload itself wasn’t an issue, but then my last surgery, which was meant to be a quick and straightforward one, turned into a bloody nightmare—quite literally.
My patient had been stable throughout the operation when his vitals suddenly plummeted. He started bleeding, and it took us far too long to locate the source, only to discover it hadn’t been from a mistake on my part.
It’d stemmed from a hidden complication related to the bowel resection he’d had last month. The general surgery team who’d operated on him had used this ridiculous new surgical device from NyxMedica that the hospital had introduced last year, and it failed.
Again.
I couldn’t understand why we were still using it, given all the issues many Amanar surgeons had encountered using it.
Thankfully, we’d managed to control the bleeding and save the patient, but he would have a long recovery road ahead of him.
“What happened?” Nakia asked, a hint of mischievousness suddenly flashing in her gaze. Before I could stop her, she added, “And does it have anything to do with the infamous hot doctor you danced with at the ball?”
Hazel’s eyes widened as she let out a small gasp. “Danced with? Why has no one told me about this already?”
Why did I choose the most indiscrete people as friends?
I groaned, propping my phone on the small kitchen counter. After throwing my hair into a ponytail, I leaned my hands onto the concrete worktop and said, “Firstly, he is not hot. Annoying and unbearable, yes.”
They both exchanged knowing looks.
Of course, I was lying but right now, discussing how infuriatingly attractive the bane of my existence was, or how every time he touched me my skin felt like it was alive wasn’t what I wanted to focus on.
“I’d like to remind both of you that I called to vent my grievances, not gossip about his charms.”
“So you do admit he is charming,” Nakia teased, trying to hide her smile.
“Goodbye,” I groaned, feigning to end the call when she stopped me.
“Alright, alright we apologize. Go on,” Nakia encouraged, barely containing her amusement at my situation.
Ignoring the giant smiles on their faces, I launched into a detailed explanation of what transpired earlier—well, mostly everything—all while making myself a quick dinner. Fifteen minutes later, Hazel and Nakia were still quiet as I snuggled up on my sofa with a turkey bowl in hand.
I swiftly opened my app, inputting the values to cover myself for what I was about to eat, before taking a bite, still waiting for them to say something.
Nakia was usually quiet, but Hazel always had something to say.
Too anxious to wait, I prompted, “So? Proper arsehole, isn’t he?” I took a few more bites of my food, waiting for either of them to say anything.
“You want the truth or would you prefer we lie?” Nakia replied, brow raised.
Confused, I shot back, “You’ve never held back before, so why start now?”
“Okay, but just a fair warning, you might not like what you hear. It was actually a really nice thing he did,” Nakia said.
“ Nice ? Have you both not been listening to a word I said?” I asked, outrage creeping into my voice.
How could him undermining me with a patient and taking such an important surgery from me be nice ? Surgery was in and of itself a cutthroat field. I knew this better than anyone. But I’d been working closely with Atlas FC, Alastair’s football club, to make sure he had the best care and he could return to the pitch after his rehabilitation.
Michael could have easily told Marcella that I’d get to it once I was done. But instead, him and his inflated ego took countless hours of hard work for granted.
I shifted my attention to Hazel for reinforcement because clearly Nakia wasn’t thinking clearly, but she quickly averted her gaze.
“Oh, we both have,” Nakia said, knowing Hazel wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings. “I hate that you weren’t able to perform the surgery, especially with the hours you’ve put in to come up with a plan, but he doesn’t know that. Because I’m assuming you didn’t explain that to him and just jumped to conclusions?”
I hated when she was rational.
“You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“We are, Z, and you know I would never give a man the benefit of the doubt under any circumstances, but he probably thought he was doing you a favor. Which he has because if he hadn’t, you would probably still be at the hospital right now with an unhappy patient. His approach could have used more,” she paused, musing on the right word before saying, “tact, but?—”
“He likes you,” Hazel chimed in, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
I shot her a glare. “He doesn’t like me. He’s egocentric and makes it his mission to unnerve me.”
“Which means he likes you,” Nakia said, her lips fighting a smile.
I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, not you too.”
They both burst into laughter.
“Admit it,” Nakia said, leaning forward, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’ve got a bit of a crush on the hot doctor, haven’t you?”
“No,” I scoffed.
Was he attractive? Sure. Did his proximity cause the signals in my body to go haywire? Unfortunately. But I’d rather endure open-heart surgery without anesthesia than feel more than irritation toward him. Anything else should be inconceivable.
“He’s nothing more than insufferable,” I reiterated. I didn't know who I was trying to convince more with that statement. “And could we please stop calling him the ‘hot doctor’?”
Hazel’s face beamed as she propped her chin on her hand, gazing faraway dreamingly. “This is straight out of a romance novel.”
Typical Hazel.
I shook my head, placing my half-empty bowl on the coffee table, having lost my appetite, before leaning back against the couch. “I wouldn’t call my desire to strangle him in his sleep straight out of a romance anything .”
She shrugged, unfazed. “We’ll see. Come back to me in a few months, and we’ll determine who was right.”
Just then, the sound of a door creaking open echoed through the phone, followed by Eddy’s voice. “Hazel, mo cuishle ? 1 , it’s nearly midnight, what are you—” He halted mid-sentence once he noticed we were on a call.
“Oh, hello, ladies,” he said, a faint blush creeping up his freckled fair skin. He was practically naked, wearing only a pair of briefs. Swiftly, he grabbed a tiny pink blanket from next to Hazel and wrapped it around himself, though there wasn’t much fabric to work with.
Hazel glanced at him as he perched on the arm of the sofa. She opened her mouth, but I interrupted her before she could utter a word.
“Hazel,” I warned, knowing she was about to tell him that I was in love with the ‘hot doctor’. Which might I add, wasn’t true. I already had these two hounding me; I didn’t need a third person in my predicament.
Edward was generally a quiet and reserved lad, but that man loved to gossip, though he would absolutely deny it if asked.
“What?” she asked, glancing back at me with feigned innocence.
I raised a brow. “You know exactly what.”
“But it’s just Eddy,” she protested.
“Yeah, it’s just Eddy,” he echoed, popping his head next to hers with a cheeky grin. “Besides, she already told me about the hot doctor if that’s what you're afraid of.”
Oh fuck me.
I groaned and buried my face under my free hand, feeling my cheeks heat and wishing I could vanish somewhere far away from here—somewhere the words ‘hot doctor’ never existed.
Hazel slapped his arms, glaring at him—well, her version of glaring.
“I liked you far better when you were quiet and shy and trying to impress us to get on Hazel’s good side,” I said, running my hand down my face.
Nakia shifted off-screen, suppressing a laugh.
He just shrugged. “To my defense, she,” he nodded toward his fiancée, “freely offered the information. Anyway, I’ll leave you three to it, but don’t keep my wife up too late.” He placed a small kiss on her temple and stood to leave.
The gesture sent a wave of wistfulness through me. I used to long for that kind of love, someone to share my life with, until my mother’s passing doused me with a cold dose of reality. Love was beautiful until it wasn’t, and I stopped believing that such a fantasy was worth the inevitable heartbreaking loss
“She’s not your wife yet,” I scoffed before he disappeared from the screen. “Anything to say in your defense?” I asked, glaring at Hazel.
“I’m sorry?” she replied, her expression turning sheepish.
I shook my head.
“So,” Nakia began, and we all turned our attention to her. “What happened next?”
My brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”
“I know you well enough to know you didn’t tell us everything. Once you confronted him about your surgery, what happened next?” Nakia pressed with a knowing expression.
I knew that if I mentioned the part where our bodies were so close I could almost taste his heady scent, I would never hear the end of it. It would only fuel this delusional scenario they have about something transpiring.
I shrugged off a shiver at the inconceivable idea.
Keep telling yourself that , my mind mocked.
And keep your thoughts to yourself, I shot back.
Brilliant, now I was having a conversation with my subconscious.
Instead of dwelling on my ridiculous inner monologue, I gave them the safest answer. “He just left before I could get another word out because he had a date ,”
They exchanged a knowing look before turning their attention back to me
I sighed. “What is it again?”
“Do we sense a hint of… jealousy in your tone,”
I furrowed my brows. “Me? Jealous? Are you mad?”
“Well, you did say the word ‘date’ with a lot of disdain,”
“Okay, I think it’s rather late for you two. I believe a good night's sleep will help bring back some sense into the both of you,” I said, bringing the conversation to a close. “So goodnight, I love you both.”
Before either of them could respond, I ended the call and tossed my phone aside, the device landing on the far end of the sofa. It pinged with a text message, swiftly followed by another, but I ignored it, knowing it was from either or both of them.
I leaned my head back against the cushion. Grabbing a nearby pillow, I pressed it over my face and let out a scream of frustration into it.
It hadn’t even been a month of being forced to work with him, and I was already losing it. I’d always prided myself on my non-confrontational nature and my composure under pressure, but it seemed like he brought out the worst in me.
Just his simple presence got under my skin.
How on earth would I survive however long it would take him to either quit or worse retire? I eventually wouldn’t be under his supervision once I finished my training, but I’d still have to work with him.
And why did he have to look like that ?
My mind unwillingly drifted back to the night of the ball. I’d regretted saying yes to dancing with him the moment I slipped my hand in his; the warmth of his skin seeping through the fabric of my glove and sending an unexpected jolt through me.
I could still recall the way he gently placed his fingers against the small of my back to bring our bodies closer. The way he’d looked at me as we swayed on the dancefloor.
Intensely and completely disarming.
His intoxicating proximity wrapped around me like a fog. I’d almost forgotten where and with whom I was, until the invisible thread that connected us, our lips a breath away from each other, was cleaved in half by the blaring sound of my Omnipod.
I’d never been more grateful to have diabetes then at that moment.
If my expired insulin pump hadn’t started obnoxiously beeping, I might have let him—or worse, I might have done it myself.
I groaned, tossing the pillow aside and sitting up straight. My mind was a tangled mess of thoughts, wandering from the pressure of succeeding at work to him . With a huff, I stood and trudged to the kitchen, grabbing the bowl I’d abandoned earlier.
I wrapped the leftovers with cling wrap, too lazy to transfer it into a container and wash the dishes. It’d be tomorrow’s problem.
I took the stairs and padded to my room, the events of today clouding my thoughts. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I changed into a large sleeping shirt, foregoing underwear, and I climbed into bed, pulling the weighted duvet over my body, hoping that sleep would smother the feelings that seemed to plague me.
But as soon as my eyes fluttered shut, my mind betrayed me. Again.
Images of him, of us, swirled behind my eyelids—his dimpled smile, the way his eyes sparkled with mischief and desire whenever he taunted me, the feel of his skin against mine.
I could almost feel the warmth of his breath brushing against my lips. Could practically taste him on my tongue.
I was bloody doomed.
I tossed and turned, fighting the onslaught of unwanted flashbacks and the prospects of what ifs assaulting me at every turn. My frustration grew into a headier aching and before I could stop myself, my hand slowly drifted down my body.
Almost teasing as if it knew this was a bad idea in the making.
With featherlight touches, I warily slipped a hand and found myself soaked with my arousal. My mind battled with my body for a brief moment before I closed my eyes, and gave in to the forbidden thoughts for a few reckless minutes.
Maybe this is what I needed. Scratching the itch.
Almost instantly, my breath shallowed into pants as I brought myself closer, snapshots of him fueling the fantasy. His strong arms pinning me down, his deft fingers knowing exactly how to bring me over the edge, the softness of his lips leaving not an inch of my body untouched.
His commanding words, guiding me through every step of what he planned to do with me at his mercy.
A loud moan escaped past my lips.
My skin slicked with sweat as I stroked myself faster before pushing two fingers inside me, the slippery sounds of my pumping in and out intermingling with my sighs.
Suddenly, my orgasm crashed over me with a blinding force, drowning me in a warmth that trickled into every inch of my skin and sent a sensation of lightness floating through me.
I lay there, sweaty and breathless, until the wreck of what I’d just done crashed me back into reality.
This definitely hadn’t scratched the itch.
It simply fueled it more.
1 ? My darling (Irish Gaelic)