Bound By Contract: The Surgeon's Secret Wife

small red dot shaking almost imperceptibly aga

room was frigid, a manufactured cold that had no

packed red blood cells," she said, her voice tight. She coul

enior residents, roll her eyes. The woman next to her, Dr. Crysta

the polished mahogany table. Dr. Barrett Walter

husb

Tap. Tap. Tap. Each sound was a nail being hammered into her composure. Hi

e cut through the room, low and

went dry. "Ye

ous vein graft during harvesting. You

s successful, and there

breath. "The issue is the theoretical flaw. A running suture on a vein of that diameter, even a minor repair, increases th

ing. She had to work fast. "With all due respect, sir, the

Bowman," he snapped, his voice droppin

le

started at her neck and spread to her hairline. She stared down at her white coat, the fabric worn thin from

ot her a look of pure sympathy. Blake gave a micros

e flat. He stood, his custom-tailored suit

quiet stampede of residents and fellows desperate to escape the b

nplug her laptop. They were shaking so ba

sive leather shoes

Barrett said, not even look

g. She packed her laptop into its worn bag and turned to follow,

hoved a stack of patient charts into Blake's arms. Th

before lunch," Hill ordered, her v

the weight. "This is a

d better g

ners digging into her ribs. She watched Barrett's back disa

nocked on the heavy oak d

nt

de, closing it softly behind her. The cli

rk City skyline. With a press of a button on his desk, motorized blinds descende

unged into an i

ythm. Not of fear, but of anticipation. A ter

m the door, an

d her wrist, pulling her forward. The other slammed against the door beside her head, caging

omething dark and woody, like cedar after a winter storm. It

crashed do

with a raw, desperate possession. Blake's body was rigid for a second, her mind still reeling from the public shaming. Then, the famili

ic of his expensive suit jacket as sh

ily. He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. The

s morning?" he rasped,

of his penthouse apartment at 4 a.m. to get

oday," she whispered, avoiding his gaze.

them vanishing as if a switch had been flipped. He walked back to hi

economical strokes across the screen. He pulled up a ba

ccount," he said, his voice devoid of all emot

en thousand dollars, destined for the account th

This was what she was. A service rendered, a payment made.

rd and picked up her scattered papers, her dignity in pieces on t

shattered pride, when his phone,

reen l

ed made the air

eth

red, replaced by an instant, focused warmth. The cold chief, the possessive lover

ice a soft, intimate murmur th

s. I'll be r

steps brisk, his focus already a million

e scattered charts clutched in her hand, listening

ne. Just

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