Chapter 1 #2
The longer I stared at his face, the more my stomach sank until it finally landed somewhere near my knees. “And this is the guy who just bought my hospital?”
Ellora winced. “It sounds like it.”
“My hospital,” I repeated almost breathlessly. “The one that saved my dad and I start working at in approximately eleven hours.”
Mercedes reached for my arm. “Maybe it won’t be that bad. Kody and Holden both had reputations that preceded them and look at them now. They’re not nearly as prickish as the media made them out to be.”
“Yeah, not to you.” I shook my head and immediately signaled the waiter. “I need a shot.”
Ellora blinked hard. “You already had—”
“I need another shot,” I said. “For medical reasons. Maybe I can diagnose my own hangover tomorrow as liver failure and be done with it.”
They exchanged a look but didn’t even flinch when I ordered another round of tequila.
Five years. That was how long I’d just signed up for.
With no more fellow in front of my title. They couldn’t politely ask me to leave anymore. I’d done the grind—school, clinicals, and the fellowship that was basically a paid internship with better scrubs—and now, I was locked solidly into a five-year contract that was less than two hours old.
As soon as the shot was put down in front of me, I tossed it back, not even bothering with salt or lime. This was a disaster, and there was no way out of it. “Do you think we can have one last shot? Maybe just one for the road. Yeah, let’s do that. One for the road.”
The next morning arrived with the cruelty of a personal vendetta. My alarm went off at four-thirty and my body responded by filing a formal complaint. My head throbbed, my mouth tasting like regret and day-old tequila.
Groaning, I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Okay, don’t panic. You are a professional adult starting a new career in your dream job. Everything is going to be just fine.
Since driving myself this morning felt both illegal and morally wrong, I took the subway, hating myself for it when the train lurched and screeched. Every sudden stop made my skull pulse and I clutched my coffee like it was life support, praying that the day would only get better from here.
Once I’d finally gotten off at my stop, Saint Raphael’s loomed ahead, beautiful and familiar, but all I could think was, Please don’t be ruined. Not now. Not on my first official day of five freaking years.
As soon as I stepped inside, however, I realized that it might even be worse than I’d thought. The energy in the lobby was completely off, people clustered in tense little knots, whispering with their eyes darting around like they were scanning for the arrival of an invading army.
No one was at their usual stations. Instead, we were all herded toward the large auditorium that was normally reserved for guest lecturers and mandatory trainings about hand hygiene. I slid into a seat near the back, my head still pounding, my heart now giving it a run for its money.
We’d barely walked in when the executive director stepped up to the lectern, smiling the way people only did when they were about to deliver news that would ruin your week—or in my case, the next half decade of my life.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” he said.
“Please take your seats.” He continued without even waiting for the shuffling associated with sitting to end.
“As you’re all aware, we’re entering a time of transition here at St Raphael’s, but I want to assure you that we will work together to make it as painless as possible. ”
I hated to be a negative Nelly, but one look around told me his words had reassured precisely no one.
He grinned and gestured to the side of the stage. “Now, without further ado, a few words from the CEO and owner of Crowne Medical. Our new boss, Mr. Sullivan Crowne, everybody.”
There was some clapping, but not from me. I crossed my arms and leaned back, unimpressed until he walked onstage.
And wow. The pictures on Mercedes’s phone had not done him justice at all.
The man wore a tailored suit with a crisp white shirt and no tie, like he was too powerful to need one.
His sandy hair was perfectly styled in a way that suggested effortlessness but definitely involved effort, but it was his eyes that got to me, his gaze sharp enough to assess and dismantle a room in seconds.
Cold, but so devastatingly hot.
My traitorous brain paused mid-hate spiral to acknowledge this, and I immediately resented myself for it.
He surveyed the room calmly, his hands loosely clasped around the lectern and his posture immaculate. When he spoke, his voice was smooth and confident but utterly devoid of warmth.
“I understand change can be unsettling, but Crowne Medical is committed to innovation, efficiency, and progress.”
Innovation. Efficiency. Progress.
Every one of those words felt like a threat.
I squinted at him, my hangover flaring in solidarity with my rage. This man was going to dismantle the hospital I loved and replace heart with hardware. I didn’t care how good looking he was.
I already hated him, and something told me he was going to make my life very, very complicated.