The door closed behind Adrian with a soft click, but somehow, it felt louder than it should've. He'd barely said anything after calling Dr. Preston in. Just a few words, and an unreadable glance over his shoulder before he was gone.
Now, it was just me.
And her.
Dr. Preston stood across the suite, her heels clicking softly as she moved toward the counter and started unpacking a small kit. She didn't speak at first. Her silence was sharp, calculated.
"Vitals are stable," she said eventually, wrapping the blood pressure cuff back into a coil. "Pulse is strong. Dehydration likely, but nothing severe. Nausea is typical. No need for theatrics."
I stayed still. Calm. Breathing through the last of the wave that had left me hunched over the toilet just minutes before.
She turned toward me, her expression unreadable. "You've never assisted in a gunshot surgery before, have you?"
"No," I said. "But I managed."
Her smile didn't touch her eyes. "Barely. You nearly fainted on the floor. Not uncommon, of course. Surgeons train for years before being exposed to that level of trauma. But I suppose Adrian likes to... throw people into the fire."
I glanced at her but didn't respond. I didn't trust her tone, and I wasn't in the mood to play verbal chess.
"Interesting," she continued, pretending to tidy up her bag. "He's never called me mid-surgery. Never once insisted I come check on someone. Not even when his men came in with multiple bullet wounds." Her voice thinned, almost brittle. "But for you... he seemed genuinely concerned."
I exhaled slowly through my nose.
"I think he was just being cautious," I said. "I'm carrying a child, and I'm new here. It was professional."
Preston turned sharply. "Oh, come on. You believe that?"
"I know that," I replied.
She laughed... dry and disbelieving. "You think you're just some discreet in house doctor? You think he noticed you because of your resume?"
I met her eyes. "Yes. I do and I think he needed a doctor fast, I was available. Trainable."
Her mouth twisted, eyes narrowing as she moved closer. "You're not the first pretty thing to walk into Adrian's orbit thinking it's a job. You won't be the last."
"I didn't walk in," I said evenly. "He hired me. I didn't ask for this."
"Oh, poor thing," she murmured with mock pity, crossing her arms. "So naive. You really don't get it yet, do you? This place... these people... Adrian Huntley... they don't operate by the rules you're used to."
I said nothing.
"You think you're above me?" she said. "You think because he's showing you a shred of attention that you've somehow replaced me? We have history. Trust. Years of it."
"I don't care to be above you." I said quietly.
She faltered, just for a beat.
"I'm not trying to take your place," I added. "There's nothing between us... nothing emotional, nothing romantic. He gives me orders, I follow them. That's all."
She studied me, searching my face for some crack in the armor.
"Adrian doesn't do things for people," she said eventually. "He doesn't care. Not like this. So whatever you think this is? It'll burn out the moment you disappoint him."
I stayed calm. "Then let it burn!"
Her eyes sharpened. "You're in way over your head. You don't belong here. This isn't some clinic in the suburbs where you can talk about vitamins and run blood panels. You're in a world that will eat you alive."
"I know," I said. And I did. I'd felt it since the moment I stepped into this place... that cold, breathless tension that never quite left. "But I'm not here to impress you. Or him. I'm here because I need this job."
She stepped back, visibly annoyed that her words hadn't rattled me more.
"Go home," she snapped. "Eat some crackers. Sleep it off. It's just nausea. Adrian was being dramatic."
I gave her a long, steady look. She hated that I wasn't flustered. Hated that I hadn't folded.
She walked to the door but paused with her hand on the knob.
"You may not want him," she said over her shoulder. "But that won't matter. Women like you... soft, lost, bleeding from old wounds... you attract men like him whether you mean to or not. And when he's done with you, you'll wish you never stepped foot in this place."
Then she was gone.
And I was left with the ache in my stomach, the bitter taste of bile, and a quiet truth that hung like a ghost in the air:
I didn't want Adrian Huntley.
But something about the way he moved through this world made it hard to breathe when he was near.