Inevitably, the time came where I could not contain myself any longer. I felt as though I were floating. My legs crossed behind his back, forcing him to finish along with me. After we reached climax, he leaned down and kissed me on the collarbone, his mouth warm and moist. I blinked my eyes open, realizing that I was in a multi-million dollar apartment with the man I thought to be my mentor. It was wilder than any bizarre sex dream I had ever had.
As I peeled myself off of the countertop, I had a thought that sent me into a tiny panic.
“Damon, does your elevator have cameras?”
He let out a deep belly laugh that was contagious. “Yeah, it does.”
“Seriously?” I moaned. “Can you find a way to delete the footage?” I imagined a video of my bare ass bouncing up and down on my mentor making its way back to the hospital administration.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, filling a glass of water. “I don’t tip my doorman an extra thousand dollars at Christmas not to get away with things. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you’re not the first girl in the elevator, and you probably won’t be the last. If you haven’t noticed, money can get you out of just about any sticky situation. No one is going to see that video, though I may try to get that copy for my own personal collection.”
I playfully smacked him on the arm, not finding the thought terribly funny.
Chapter 16
Olivia
My stomach was the first thing to wake me up in the morning. I hoped that Damon didn’t hear my insides obnoxiously rumbling, but he rolled over and grunted, alerting me that he was awake.
“Did you say something?” he asked sleepily.
“Nothing,” I squeaked. “I’m starving, though.”
Damon stretched out, his hand reaching out toward my belly, which rumbled again in response. “Okay, okay,” he said, drawing the covers back. He scratched his bare chest, his underwear riding low on his hips. Throughout the night, I kept waking to feel his smooth skin and well-defined muscles. It wasn’t fair that he had looks, brains, charm, and money.
“Do you want any help?” I asked.
“No, I’ve got it,” he said. “I’ve got some eggs. We can have that with some toast. I’ll be right back.”
Once he left, I retreated to the bathroom and brushed my teeth and scrubbed my face. I found a hairbrush in the cupboard and tried to tame my tangled mane. Then, I allowed myself into Damon’s closet for something clean to wear. I found an old t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts and slipped them on. I held the collar of the soft, thin shirt up to my nose and breathed deeply. It smelled so nice and fresh.
Damon’s apartment was especially clean for a bachelor pad. He didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who cared about cleanliness. I assumed he had a housekeeping service that came every few days. His place was a little too pristine for him to do it on his own.
I couldn’t imagine having such a disposable income that I could hire someone to clean my place. Of course, I could never imagine living in a big enough place in New York that I even had to worry about making a mess.
I wandered out into the kitchen to the smell of burned food. I pulled the shirt over my nose, shielding myself from the smell. Damon was running around, pulling the windows open so the smoke detector wouldn’t go off. I grabbed a towel and fanned the smoke toward the open window. When the smoke cleared, he stood by the stove, his hands on his hips and a look of resignation on his face.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I don’t really know,” he said, pulling a blackened piece of toast from the toaster. Then, he opened the trashcan and scraped out some rubbery eggs, speckled with shells. “I thought I could do this.”
I frowned. “How do you usually feed yourself?” I asked.
He looked at the floor for a moment. “I don’t really cook,” he admitted. “If I don’t go out to eat, then I order food. Or, I have someone who comes in a few times a week to cook for me.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” I asked. “I could have cooked for you.”
He pursed his lips. “I thought it would be nice to make breakfast for you, since you’re the guest and all. And, it’s kind of annoying when you’re better than me at something.”
I grabbed the pan and the spatula from him and smiled to myself. I liked when he admitted that I was good at things. Now, I just had to prove myself as slightly competent in the kitchen.
In no time, I managed to whip up the same breakfast he destroyed just moments before. I also made a fruit salad to go along with it. I found it funny that he had a fridge stocked with ingredients, but no means to cook any of it. He looked a little sheepish as we sat down to eat, but was fine once his stomach was full.
“Have you ever considered going to a cooking class?” I asked. “I’m sure you have some chef friends who could help you out a little.”
He shrugged. “It seems like that would take a lot of time. I don’t know if it’s worth it.”
“I’m sure if you put your mind to it, you could find yourself a little time,” I joked.
Damon sighed and shook his head. “I wish it were that simple. My income can buy me a lot of conveniences. What money cannot buy me is more time. If I had free time, I wouldn’t have money.”
He seemed less bright and happy than usual. Most of the time, he wore a sarcastic smirk on his face. Now, he seemed actually down.
“Sure, but isn’t there a work-life balance that comes in time,” I said. “Maybe in a few years, you’ll find that less work falls upon your shoulders. How do other surgeons do it?”
“They don’t, that’s the thing,” he groaned. “No one has a good relationship with their partners or kids because they’re never home. If they’re not in surgery, they’re on the golf course with their buddies. Sometimes, it’s easier to have a casual hookup at a nearby hotel than commute all the way home to be with your wife, because most of them live in the suburbs, not the city. It’s not like that for everyone, but it’s also not rare. You know this, right? I don’t think it’s possible to be a surgeon and be truly happy in all aspects of life.”
I frowned. I didn’t expect to be as rich and flashy as Damon one day, but I did see myself living a nice, peaceful life. I figured the first few years of working would be hard, but once I started to get into the rhythm, things would be good. I would be able to pay off my student loans and maybe even buy some property. Then, once my personal finances were in order, I could start to worry about other things like relationships and starting a family. I fi
gured all of these things would just naturally come with time.
“I’m pretty sure my dad never had these problems,” I argued. “From what I heard about our life back then, he was doing just fine.”
“Maybe, but do you think your mom told you stories about when times were tough? Has she ever talked about getting into fights with him because she was home with you and your brother and he was enjoying drinks or a golf game with his buddies? I’m sure their relationship was fine, but why would your mom ever recount a negative story about him?”
What he said made sense. My mom always talked about how proud she was of me for following in his footsteps, but maybe that was because it was like having a piece of him around. Besides, when a loved one dies, you don’t sit around talking about that person’s shortcomings. You just remember the good times. Now, I wasn’t sure what to think about the career path that I was so sure about. I had never really stopped to question if there was any reason to become a doctor besides the fact that it was what my dad did. With the weeks counting down before I would need to choose a specialty to go into, I was starting to question everything.
“Don’t tell me that you hate your job,” I said nervously. “I’ve read interviews that you’ve done in different magazines. You give tips to med school kids, and you’ve never told them not to do what you’re doing. Hell, you save lives Damon. Is this just Sunday wearing down on you?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s just life. Maybe what I do isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”
I frowned. I didn’t like where he was going with this conversation. I was actually looking forward to hearing more about the surgical field and being a surgeon.
“It’s been my lifelong dream to do what my dad did, granted he was a general practitioner and I want to be a surgeon, but still,” I said, more for my reassurance than his, “I’ve had this clear goal in mind for years. I’ve mapped out my entire life to get to the point where I can achieve these things. When I read about how much you’ve accomplished in such a short amount of time, I am inspired. I thought that if you could be successful at age twenty-six, I could reasonably get what I wanted by thirty. You said yourself that I have a bright future in the medical field.”