Graham
Graham Calloway hated hospitals. The smell alone was enough to put him in a bad mood.
They smelled like bleach, and the constant beeping of machines nearly drove him crazy.
His biggest problem with hospitals was that being in one showed weakness, and he hated that most of all, because right now, weakness was exactly what had him trapped in a hospital bed.
Every breath hurt thanks to the cracked ribs. His leg felt like someone had shoved a hot poker through the bone, and his head still pounded hard enough to make light feel like a weapon. But none of that irritated him nearly as much as being forced to stay still.
He stared out the window of the ICU room, his jaw clenched. “Sir?” Graham looked over to find his assistant lingering nervously near the door. Martin had worked for him for fifteen years and still looked terrified of him half the time.
“Yes,” he breathed.
“Your board is requesting an update,” Martin said. Of course they were. The vultures were probably circling already, trying to figure out whether the billionaire businessman was finally weak enough to push out of his own company.
“Tell them I’m alive,” Graham said flatly.
Martin hesitated. “That’s all you want me to say?” he asked.
“That’s all there is to say,” Graham insisted.
His assistant nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.” Before Martin could leave, the door opened, and suddenly, Graham stopped caring about business altogether.
Dr. Amelia Bennett walked into the room wearing navy scrubs and exhaustion beneath her eyes, but God, she was beautiful.
That was the first coherent thought he’d had in nearly twenty-four hours.
Her dark hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and there were faint shadows beneath her eyes like she’d been working too hard and sleeping too little.
She looked young, standing in the middle of all the machines surrounding him.
She was too young for him. That thought should have mattered more than it did.
Instead, Graham found himself watching the way she moved—the confidence in her steps, the softness in her expression, and the intelligence in those warm eyes.
“Good afternoon,” she said politely.
Martin immediately straightened like he’d just been caught doing something illegal. “Doctor.”
Mia gave him a small smile before looking at Graham. “How are we feeling today?” No one had asked Graham how he felt in years. They asked what he needed, what he wanted, and what they could do for him, but never how he felt.
“Like I’ve been hit by a truck,” he answered.
She smiled. “Still no truck involved, I’m afraid.” His chest tightened unexpectedly. Her smile did something dangerous to him.
Martin cleared his throat awkwardly. “I should let you work, sir.” Graham barely acknowledged him. The second the door closed, the room felt quieter and more intimate.
Mia walked toward the bed while checking his chart. “Your vitals look much better today.”
“You sound disappointed about that, doctor,” he teased.
Her eyes flicked toward his. “Not at all. I’m just happy that you’re still here with us,” she insisted. “You seem like a pretty stubborn person, so I’m betting that has something to do with it.” He actually laughed at that, and the sound surprised both of them.
“You’re honest. I like that,” he said.
“I’m tired,” she corrected. “There’s a difference.” Graham watched her adjust his IV carefully, and suddenly, he found himself wondering what those hands would feel like touching him without gloves between them. The thought hit him hard enough that he frowned.
He didn’t think like that anymore. He especially didn’t think like this about women young enough to be his daughter. “You should be resting,” she told him quietly.
“I slept earlier,” he said.
“Yeah, for about twenty minutes,” she challenged.
He laughed. “Are you checking up on me?” The moment the words left his mouth, Mia seemed to realize what she’d admitted. A faint blush crept into her cheeks, which he found adorable.
“I check on all my patients,” she said carefully. She was lying. He could see it in her eyes. And for some reason, knowing she’d been thinking about him made something possessive unfurl deep inside his chest.
“What caused the accident?” she asked while writing something on the chart.
Graham’s jaw tightened immediately. “There was a problem with my brakes.”
Her hand paused. “That sounds serious.”
“It is,” he said. Mia slowly looked up at him then, and Graham could practically see the intelligence working behind her eyes as pieces clicked together.
“You think someone did it intentionally,” she said, not really asking a question.
He held her gaze. “I know they did,” he admitted. The room went silent. Most people reacted to statements like that with disbelief or fear, but Mia only looked concerned for him.
“You should tell the police,” she insisted.
“I already did,” he said.
“And what did they say?” she asked.
“They promised to investigate my claim,” he said. She didn’t look convinced, but neither was he. The truth was Graham already knew who was responsible. The problem was proving it.
“Do you have security?” she asked softly.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Why?”
“Because if someone wanted to hurt you once, they might try again while you’re in here,” she said.
Jesus, the concern in her voice hit him harder than the accident had.
Most people cared about Graham Calloway because of his money, influence, and power.
This woman barely knew him, and she was worried about whether he was safe.
Something inside him shifted right then. He was too old for this girl—too damaged and controlling. The last thing someone like Amelia Bennett needed was a man like him becoming obsessed with her. Unfortunately, it was already happening.
“You saved my life,” he said quietly.
Her expression softened immediately. “That’s my job.”
“No.” His voice lowered. “You cared whether I lived or died.” The room grew still again, and color rose in her cheeks. That was when Graham realized something terrifying—the sweet little doctor had no idea how beautiful she looked when she blushed.
“You should get some rest, Mr. Calloway,” she said softly.
Graham held her gaze. “Call me Graham.” For a second, she hesitated, like she knew accepting that invitation changed something between them.
Then her lips parted. “Okay,” she whispered.
“Get some rest, Graham.” His name on her lips nearly ruined him, and as she walked toward the door, Graham made a decision that would probably change both of their lives.
By the time Dr. Amelia Bennett finished her shift tonight, flowers wouldn’t be waiting for her.
Neither would chocolates. No—that wasn’t enough for the woman who had saved his life.
Graham intended to spoil her properly, like the princess she didn’t realize she was yet.
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