Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
AZARA
After breakfast, I’d driven through the absurd traffic to the stadium where the match took place. London roads were almost always busy, but I’d never been to a game before so I hadn’t anticipated being stuck in traffic for almost an hour when the trip would normally only take twenty minutes.
We’d barely made it on time to meet with Hazel and Nakia in front of the stadium for the rest of Zayd’s birthday surprise. Hazel had quickly handed us our VIP wristbands, while one of the social media coordinators for the Atlas escorted my brother to the pitch so he could meet some of the players and watch their warm-ups.
“Thank you again for helping me with this,” I told Hazel as we followed her to our seats in one of the main stands behind the player’s benches. The place was already packed with fans in a sea of black and red on our side, with a few scattered ones wearing navy blue shirts—representing the opposite team.
“ No hay de qué ? 1 ,” she replied with a warm smile, placing her hand on my arm.
We sat in our padded seats just as the players filed onto the field for warm-ups, the crowd’s excitement reaching an audible crescendo of cheers. My brother came out a few moments later, wearing a branded team jacket and a ball under his armpit.
As if he’d felt us watching him, he turned around and gave me two thumbs-ups, a beaming smile on his face.
“I will never be able to top this next year,” I noted with a shake of my head, seeing as my brother was almost bouncing with joy.
She waved me off. “We have plenty of time to think of something,” Hazel said and I could already see the plans forming in her head.
“I now understand why people love watching football so much,” Nakia sighed as she propped her knuckles under her chin and leaned forward in her seat, pushing her large black sunglasses over her head with her other hand. “I’d pay good money to see that every Saturday.”
I tamped down a laugh as I looked at the players. I could understand the appeal of footballers, but I personally didn’t subscribe to it. Not only did they have a reputation I’d much rather stay away from, they were too pretty for my personal preferences.
Yeah, you prefer tattooed arsehole surgeons , my brain chimed in.
I groaned internally at the intrusive thought for fear of manifesting his presence. With fate’s cruel conspiracy against me, I wouldn’t put it past her.
“Why do you think I’m marrying one?” Hazel said as her gaze briefly met Eddy’s. His face instantly lit up and he winked at her before returning his attention to his trainer.
“Well played, young one,” Nakia said proudly, leaning over me to give her a high five. She’d given the nickname to Hazel even though she was only two years younger than us. “Is it true what they say about them being remarkable in bed? I bet their agility comes in handy,” she whispered.
I rolled my eyes before casting a nervous glance over my shoulder to see if anyone had heard her. Neither of these two were known for their discretion, and I’d rather not have complaints by the other families before the game even started.
“Could we just please behave for once?” I asked with a sigh, mortified, as I returned my attention to both of them.
Nakia slipped her hands into the pockets of her dark olive leather jacket she’d worn over a white shirt and leaned back in her seat. She crossed one bare leg over the other, flicking her stilettoed foot up and down. I never understood how she could walk in those, but it was her favorite style of heel and she had that particular pair in every color to match her varying outfits.
Nakia was always perfectly dressed no matter the occasion while Hazel and I looked almost underdressed compared to her with our team jerseys and oversized jeans.
“You’re the one to talk, Miss ‘I want to bone my hot doctor coworker’,” she replied with a mischievous smile.
My eyes widened. “I do not want to sleep with him nor will I ever,” I muttered under my breath.
Nakia arched an eyebrow, incredulity written all over her face. “Keep telling yourself that, love.”
They both laughed at my expense while I fought an exasperated sigh. I loved our trio, but I didn’t appreciate their recent liking to ganging up on me.
Hazel opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off.
“And that’s my signal to get us some drinks,” I said, swiftly getting out of my seat before I was subjected to another round of their matchmaking. The last person I wanted to think or discuss was my unbearable boss.
I walked up the steps we’d come down from and headed inside the hospitality room where a plethora of men in business attire and club colors stood around the room, chatting. On the far right from where I’d entered, a group of a few women, who appeared to be partners of the players, sat on a long red leather sofa with children either sitting on their lap or next to them.
I tossed them a small smile as I made my way through the small crowd. I’d almost made it to the large bar at the back of the room where an array of foods and beverages were offered when I heard the sound of a familiar voice.
Just as I thought my imagination had been playing tricks on me, the older gentleman that had been in front of me moved and I got a front-row view of the last person I’d planned to see here today.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Dr. Young stood by the left side of the bar with two other men.
The one who stood to his right was slightly taller than him and had a warm, olive complexion. He had medium-length wavy brown hair that was slightly tousled and a thick, well-groomed beard. He wore black trousers and a dark blazer over a black shirt with a low neck that highlighted his broad shoulders and muscular frame.
Charisma emanated off of him just like it did Michael, with their effortless charming smiles and dimples.
On the other hand, the other man appeared quieter, his fingers tightly holding a green glass water bottle in his right hand. He was slightly angled away from me, but just from his profile, I could tell he was just as attractive as who I assumed were his friends by their ease with each other.
He had short, dark curly hair that was neatly styled and facial hair that was trimmed into a light stubble. He paired his dark, loose-fitting trousers with a textured white shirt with three-quarter length sleeves that complimented his medium skin tone.
I’d planned to turn back and pretend like I’d never seen him, but of course Young turned his attention toward where I stood the moment my legs caught up with my brain.
Our gazes locked and I muttered a curse under my breath, trying to figure out my next move.
You know what? Screw this.
I tore my gaze away and closed the remaining distance to the bar, Michael and his friends standing a few inches down from where I was. I could feel his eyes on me, but ignored it. The bartender was preoccupied with another patron, but briefly looked my way and gestured that he'd be with me soon.
I tapped my fingertips against the wooden surface as I waited, when I felt someone come up behind me. I closed my eyes, trying to tamp down my bubbling annoyance, before looking over my shoulder to tell him to fuck off.
Only the person behind me wasn’t Dr. Young. Instead, standing almost a foot taller to my five foot six, was Tobias Alastair, the Atlas FC’s famous center-back.
“Oh, hi,” I said, surprised to see him.“I didn’t expect to see you here.”
He’d usually be on the pitch, warming-up with his teammates, but since it’d be a while before he could play again, he probably came to support his team during one of their biggest matches of the season.
I wasn’t in charge of his case anymore, but the cardiology team at the AGH were coordinating with the rehabilitation center where he’d been for the last several weeks to monitor his progress. Although I hadn’t operated on him—courtesy of Dr. Young—I’d been told that he worked hard and his chances of playing again were looking promising.
“I could say the same to you, Dr. Ziani.”
“Please, Azara is fine,” I amended. Since we weren’t at the hospital and he was technically no longer my patient, it felt weird to have him call me anything but by my forename.
“Well, Azara, it’s nice to see you here,” he said with a cheeky smile. He came to stand next to me, leaning a hand against the edge of the bar and bringing him an inch closer.
I shifted to keep facing him and unwillingly caught a glance in Michael’s direction, only to notice he was still looking at me. But this time, something I’d never seen there before flashed in his gaze, sending an unsettling spark of electricity dancing over my skin.
I shook it off and brought my attention back to the footballer in front of me. Aside from the fact that he was a former patient and not my usual type, the man was undoubtedly beautiful.
Tobias had that effortlessly rugged look, like he’d just rolled out of bed but somehow still managed to appear like he’d put in time and effort. His light brown curly hair framed his face, drawing attention to his chiseled features, and the light stubble dusting his jaw emphasized the fullness of his lips.
He leaned to rest his chin on his hand, his fingers splayed gently against his cheek. “So, what brings you here? Are you here by yourself?” he asked, locking his deep-set eyes on me.
Before I could get a word out, Dr. Young’s presence joined us.
Ya rab ? 2 .
Couldn’t I get just one day of peace? I already had to tolerate him pretty much every day at work and when I wasn’t at the hospital, I was mentally preparing myself to have to deal with his inflated ego the next time I had to be.
My autobiographical memory had been a blessing for the most part of my life—especially throughout medical school—but ever since Dr. Young stepped into my path, it seemed to be nothing but a fucking curse.
I didn’t really hate people and normally easily let go of things that bothered me, but with him, it always seemed like an impossible feat. No matter how many times I’d tried to forget and move past it, a memory of his infuriating behavior sparked in my mind.
“I was looking for you,” Michael said, interrupting our conversation.
Looking for me?
I was preparing to call out his nonsense when he rested a hand on the bar behind me, his body brushing against my back from the movement. He was so close that I could feel the warmth of his body and get the faint scent of his intoxicating cologne.
The words died in my throat as he spoke again, his eyes only on me.
“I appreciate you keeping her company.” His usual smile was gracing his lips, but there was a bite to his tone, like he was trying to effectively dismiss Tobias.
I sputtered out a laugh because there was no way I’d heard that right.
Tobias didn’t seem fazed by Michael’s behavior. “Dr. Young, it’s nice to see you again,” he said, extending his hand. “Thank you again for accepting to step in for Dr. Ziani and do my surgery.”
Michael looked at Tobias’s outstretched hand for a brief moment, before shaking it and slipping on his charming doctor act.
“It was my pleasure. I’ve heard your rehabilitation is going well, and hopefully you’ll thank me for getting you back on the pitch when you win your next Ballon D’Or ,” Michael said with an easy smile, but I could see it wasn’t entirely sincere.
From working with him so often and having nothing better to do, I’d started studying him to understand why people seemed to love him so much and always fell for his charms. I despised the man, but even I could admit that he was really good with patients, even when he didn’t mean it.
Tobias’s gaze flitted to mine. “I never got to see you after my surgery, but I’m immensely grateful for your help and the plan you’d come up with. I do apologize if my impatience to get the surgery done caused any scheduling issues for you.”
He briefly looked over at Michael, who was still standing too close for my comfort, before Tobias’s gaze landed back on mine. This time it was shadowed with guilt.
“I know you were meant to do it, but I was really restless with the delays and the press breathing down my neck. Dr. Young must have reassured me a dozen times that you’d be out of surgery momentarily and I could discuss my anxiety with you, but I just wanted to give the journalists some good news, so they’d stop harassing my family for updates.”
I’d heard everything Tobias had said but my brain couldn’t help but latch onto the part where he’d mentioned Michael had wanted to wait for me before proceeding with the surgery.
I realized at that moment that I’d been wrong about his intentions. He hadn’t maliciously taken the surgery from under me like I’d assumed.
Tobias ran a hand through his hair, bringing my attention back to him. “I also needed my coaches to know that I was okay. They say the team is behind me, but this sport is fiercely competitive. Any news is better than none.”
I quickly placed a hand over his forearm, feeling the need to reassure him. I felt Michael’s body stiffen behind me, but ignored it, my imagination clearly playing tricks on me.
“Hey, that’s alright. My primary concern was for you to get the best care and Dr. Young is just as qualified as I am. You were in good hands,” I told Tobias with a soft smile.
The compliment almost burned my esophagus coming out, but I tamped it down. Patients came first, and Young was talented. Not as much as me, but enough that I trusted him not to fuck it up.
“Alright, well, I should get back to see the boys before the game,” he said with a small smile. “I hope you both enjoy the entertainment. These Sufax boys are quite the actors,” he added with a playful laugh as he walked away.
I wanted to plead with him and ask him to stay so I wouldn't have to suffer the fate of being alone with Michael, but he was already gone before I could do anything.
I spun around to face him and immediately regretted it because it only brought our bodies even closer. I took a step back, although it wasn’t nearly enough.
“What are you doing here?”
“Same as you. To watch some football.”
I glared at him. “Don’t play coy. You know what I meant.” I didn’t have the patience nor the desire to play his usual games. I just wanted to be left alone. “Why did you interrupt us?”
He raised a brow in surprise. “I didn’t know I was interrupting anything.”
“I don’t… That’s not the point. You were being rude.”
“I’d beg to differ. I was nothing but charming, Azara,” he said with his signature smile but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.
He’d always called me Dr. Ziani. It was the first time he’d said my name, and I hated how I liked how it sounded leaving his lips.
I shook the ridiculous thought away. “Well, go be charming elsewhere,”
He inched closer, invading my space even further. “Ah, so you do believe I’m charming.”
I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t say that,” I replied curtly, looking away and hoping to get the attention of anyone behind the bar so they’d come to my rescue.
“Can I get you anything?”
I glanced at him sideways. “The drinks are complimentary.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t be a gentleman and get you one,” he replied, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.
Of course, this interaction would amuse him.
“Could you just, please , leave me alone. We’re not at work, and therefore there’s absolutely no need for you to speak to me.”
“What if I wanted to?” he asked, just as one of the staff came to take our orders.
Once the young lady walked away, I stared up at him. “For heaven’s sake, Dr. Young.” I shot him a glare and raised my hands, tempted to just…
Ugh.
Instead of doing as I’d asked, he stepped closer, my fingertips grazing the skin of his neck. “I dare you. I know you want to.”
Does he mean…
My lips parted at his insinuation. “You want me to choke you?”
“If it’ll make you feel better. Have at it. I’ve never tried it, but the thought of your pretty fingers around my throat sounds quite enticing,” he murmured the last words, the soft vibration of his words brushing against my chest.
My eyes grew wide as warmth irrationally washed over me at his words, at the image he’d unwillingly created in my mind. One of me riding him while doing exactly what he’d just insinuated. I’d never be able to get rid of it.
Fuck me.
I met his gaze, finding a look I’d seen there once before. At the night of the masquerade ball. Which was the last time I’d almost made a grave mistake.
I stepped back, snuffing away the curiosity swarming in my head.
“Stop doing that,” I said, hating how breathless I sounded.
A charged silence crackled between us before he spoke again.
“Doing what?”
Looking at me like that.
I didn’t bother responding and just headed back to my seat.
The drinks I’d ordered long forgotten.
1 ? Don't mention it! (Spanish)
2 ? Good lord (Arabic)