Dr. Fake It - A Possessive Doctor Romance

“You want to explain yourself, Dr. Asshole?”

I grunted. “Not to the help.”

That annoyed her. It always did. “Seriously, you can’t just eavesdrop on your patients. They have rights.”

I frowned a little and looked back toward where the big guys disappeared. For a second, I considered telling Fiona what I’d heard, but I knew she wouldn’t believe me. Hell, I heard it, and I barely believed it.

That girl in there was involved with someone bad—mafia, or some kind of crime, I didn’t know. She apparently owed them money, or her father did, or something like that, but they wanted her to pay with her body instead.

It made me sick. Fucking bastards like that thought they could waltz through this world and take what they wanted, when they wanted it, and never thought about how they could make this existence better for other people. It was always about them, their needs, their comfort.

“I know,” I said. “Sorry Fiona. I won’t do it again.”

She opened her mouth, ready to tell me to go to hell, but I could tell I knocked her off balance. “Right, uh, okay, good.”

“I’m going to check on my patient now, if that’s okay with you.”

She sighed and waved a hand as she walked back to the nurses’ station. “Do whatever you need to do, doctor.”

I smiled a little then stepped up to Erica’s door and knocked. I heard a soft voice respond, and I stepped inside, sliding the door shut behind me.

The room was average for Mercy: pale greens and teals, the linoleum floor stained and scuffed from years of abuse and neglect. A small bathroom with a shower was in the far corner, and there was space for a second bed, though Erica had the room to herself so far. A television was mounted on the wall across from her, but it was currently turned off, and the only sound was the beep of her heart rate monitor.

“How are you feeling this evening?” I asked as I walked over to her chart and checked it out. Minor contusions, bruises and sprains, and a suspected concussion, but nothing that wouldn’t heal given time.

I looked up and met her eye—and for a second, thought I could understand why a stranger wanted to marry her. She was beautiful, with full pink lips and long, thick blonde hair. Her eyes were hazel, closer to brown, and her skin was a smooth, even tan. She was thin, maybe a few pounds underweight, but she carried it well.

“I’m okay,” she said, looking away.

“Sleeping all right? I know those beds are pretty bad.”

“I’m okay, doctor.”

“Call me Gavin.” I gave her my best smile and she turned to look at me, smiling back slightly.

“Gavin. I like that name.”

“Yeah? My mother chose it. You can give her credit.”

She gave me a little laugh. “I’ll make sure to do that.”

“So listen, your chart looks good. Tests all came back negative, and aside from the concussion, you’re in good shape.”

“Great, that’s, uh, good to hear.” She shifted uncomfortably and the thin sheet she had pulled up to her neck slipped down beneath her gown-covered breasts. I knew it was unprofessional to look—but I couldn’t help myself. She noticed me noticing her, and tugged the sheet back up.

“The thing is, we don’t normally let patients stay that don’t need to be here.” I tried to speak as softly and gently as I could. “Do you know what I mean?”

I saw a spike of fear run through her expression. “I, uh, I haven’t been feeling well. Nauseous, you know? Maybe that’s the concussion? I probably shouldn’t be alone right now, and anyway, my mom’s still here, and I just—”

“Listen, Erica. Do you mind if I ask you something?”

She closed her mouth for a second then shrugged. “Okay, fine. Go ahead.”

“Is everything okay?” I asked her slowly, meeting her gaze.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She looked down at the sheet and rolled the edge between her fingers.

“Those two guys that came in here. Do you, uh, know them?”

Her eyes shot back up. “Of course.”

“I’m just asking, because they looked a little, uh, rough. Are they family? We can put them on a list of people that aren’t allowed to visit.” That wasn’t exactly true—there was such a list, but it was reserved for serious cases. Hospital security didn’t like being put in the middle of petty family drama, so it was our policy to make sure there were things like court orders or the police involved before we kept anyone off the premises.

But I wanted to see how she reacted. Her face twisted through a couple emotions, elation at first, followed by confusion, and she finally settled on a kind of neutral annoyance. She shook her head and glared at me.

“I’m fine.”

“I’m only asking because you seem shaken.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, doctor,” she said. “I can handle myself.”