Dr. Fake It - A Possessive Doctor Romance

I couldn’t face him. I knew if I stayed there and listened, sooner or later he’d convince me. It wasn’t that I agreed with what he was saying, but just being around him made me weaker, made me want to bend and give in and break exactly the way he wanted. I couldn’t risk that, not when I knew how badly things could end.

He didn’t understand. These weren’t normal men—they were the sort of men that thought paying with my body was a normal thing to do. These were men that wanted to take me as property, treat me as less than a person.

He couldn’t stand up to that. He couldn’t get involved with that.

I shut my door, locked it, and curled up in bed trying to think of some other way out of this, and coming up with nothing.21GavinFiona stared at me from behind the nurses’ station and pursed her lips like she wanted me to disappear. It’d been a busy couple of days and Erica was hiding in her room. We hadn’t talked more about what happened with the mobsters, and I wasn’t going to push her into it.

“How’s our girl?”

“Sulking.” I shrugged a little, checked the chart of a patient.

“What’d you do?”

“Of course you assume it’s my fault.”

She gave me a look. “Tell me it’s not.”

I hesitated. “It’s my fault. But not in a bad way.”

She smiled a little—which surprised me. I thought she’d roll her eyes. “All right then. What happened?”

I glanced around to make sure we were alone then gave her the short version. When I finished, she chewed on the end of a pen and shook her head. “You’re not going to do it, right?”

“I’m leaning toward yes.”

She let out a breath. “No wonder she’s mad.”

“Come on. You really think she’s right?”

“I think you’re crazy if you get involved with those guys.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” I threw up my hands, getting frustrated. “I have money, I have some connections—but this is the mafia. If they want something, they can get it.”

“Doesn’t have to be you.” She shook her head. “I can’t tell you what to do, but if she says she doesn’t want you to follow through with this, then you shouldn’t.”

I grunted and looked down the hall toward her mother’s room. “Maybe you’re right, but the alternative is worse.”

“I hear you. I guess you shouldn’t have gotten involved to begin with.”

I gave Fiona a look. “You’ve been ever so helpful.”

“I’m here to please.” She gave me a sweet smile as I waved and walked down the hall. I slid open the door to Linda’s room and stepped inside. She was quiet, peaceful, deep in her coma still, and I stood there watching her for a moment, trying to get my thoughts together.

I knew Erica was right. Dante and Vincent wanted to get me entangled with their business such that I couldn’t get away. I knew there was no way out for me if I let that happen, but I also knew I didn’t care. Working for the mob would be like working any other job: there’d be downsides and upsides, but I’d get through it.

It would be worth it, so long as I got to keep Erica.

That was the problem though. I was beginning to worry that if I accepted this deal and worked for the mafia to save her life, then Erica would leave me out of anger.

“Your daughter’s a real pain in my ass,” I said softly, looking down at Linda. “I wish you’d wake up though.”

If she were conscious, this could be so much easier. I could get them out of town, move them to Europe, or California, or wherever they wanted to go. Hell, I’d move with them, and start over from scratch.

Except she wasn’t awake, and we couldn’t go anywhere.

I heard the door slide open and figured it would be Fiona, coming over to chide me for hiding out in a patient’s room instead of doing my rounds. I half turned and stopped in surprise as an older man, likely in his late fifties, with short, dark hair stepped into the room. He had brown eyes and slightly tan skin, and wore a nice button-down tucked into his khakis.

“Are you Dr. Majors?” he asked.

I nodded and cleared my throat. “I am. What can I do for you?”

“My name is Dr. Chen.”

I took a breath and stood there, not moving a muscle. Chen stared at me, his eyes narrowed and his face hard to read. He seemed angry, or maybe impatient, and I wasn’t sure what to do. For a second I wondered if he was upset over the deal I might make with his bosses—since presumably I’d take some work away from him.

He glanced over to Linda. “Is this your patient?”

I nodded. “Coma.”

He walked over and checked her chart. I should’ve told him not to do it, but I was in shock and too distracted to say anything. He skimmed it, grunted, and put it away. “You should remove her breathing tube.”