Dr. Fake It - A Possessive Doctor Romance

“I agree, but the next of kin won’t allow it.”

“That’s how it goes, isn’t it? Patients want us to save them, but won’t lift a finger to save themselves.”

“What can I do for you, doctor?”

He turned to me and inclined his head. “May I sit?”

I nodded and gestured at the chairs. “Please.”

He sank down and sighed. He stretched out a leg and rubbed his thigh, and I got the sense that he had an old injury there.

“I thought you would be more difficult to find, Dr. Majors. But it seems as though you’re famous.”

I grunted. “Please, call me Gavin.”

“Okay then, Gavin.” He sighed and crossed his legs with some difficulty. “Tell me something. Do you plan on going into business with the Leone family?”

I stared at him, not moving. “That’s on the table.”

“I see. That’s the deal they offered, is it?”

“Wasn’t my choice, if that makes a difference.”

He cracked a small smile—tense, but still warm. “You think I’m here to try to stop you.”

“I think you’re here for a reason.”

“You’re right about that, but I’m not an enemy.”

“Then what are you?”

He considered that for a moment, head tilted to one side. “I believe we can help each other.”

I stepped back and leaned up against the wall, crossing my arms and trying to keep calm. “All right. How’s that work?”

“Dante and Vincent see an opportunity. I’ve worked for them for many years now, and I’ve saved their lives more than once. But they’re businessmen, and if they can get good, quality care from you for free, they’ll go that route, and cut me out completely.”

“Seems like shitty people to be in business with.”

“You’re right about that.” He gave me another smile then shook his head. “I know you aren’t interested in dealing with them, and I can’t blame you for that. They’re not easy people to work with. They’re demanding of your time, and their injuries are almost always very violent. You will lose patients, and it will be very, very messy.” His smile faded. “But I’m too involved in their world at this point to walk, and the pay has been very good.”

I tapped my finger against my leg, trying to piece this together. “How did you get involved with them?”

“Ah, that’s not such a crazy story. I was a young resident once, and a man came into the hospital with a gunshot wound. I saved his life, then his family came to me, and we spoke, and they realized that I was morally flexible and very broke, and we came up with an arrangement. That arrangement lasted for twenty years.”

I whistled softly. “That’s intense.”

“I became the go-to doctor for the whole city’s underworld. I don’t practice in any official capacity anymore, and haven’t in over a decade. I even let my license expire.” He laughed, a bitter and hard laugh. “I’m here to tell you that if you make this deal with Vincent Leone, you will end up like me.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

He looked away from me, over to Erica’s mother. His eyes lingered on her for a long time before he sighed. “I wanted to help people once. I thought I was a good doctor, could save lives—and I have, over the years, saved many lives. Except they haven’t been the sort of lives most people would want saved.”

“But you can’t walk away.”

“No, I can’t. The family doesn’t allow that sort of thing. If you accept their offer and work as their doctor, you will be stuck with them.”

I sighed softly. “That’s what Erica said.”

“The girl?”

I nodded. “And my wife.”

“She’s smart then. And completely correct.”

“What do you propose then? I assume if I take this job, that will mean you’d be obsolete.”

“That’s true. And obsolete mobsters don’t live long.”

I suddenly understand what coming here meant to him. He needed me to back down, not only so he could keep making money—but to avoid getting killed for knowing too much. I could see it clear as day, how his life always felt precarious, like he was always waiting for the mafia to come up with a reason to kill him, for the day that he messed up so badly they decided he needed to go—I could see it, picture how that sort of life could wear on you, break you down, grind you to dirt. He looked healthy and clean, but boring, nondescript, and maybe that was because he spent all his life wondering, fearing, and worrying.

I didn’t want that for myself, and I didn’t want it for Erica. Maybe taking the deal would save her, but it would damn her to another kind of hell.

“What can we do about it then?” I asked.

“There’s something else the family wants. Something they’ve wanted for a long time.”

I gestured toward him. “I’m willing to offer what I can.”

“There’s a block of buildings they’d like to renovate, a mix of commercial and residential property. The residential property is no problem, but the commercial is proving difficult.”