by Ember Casey
I straighten and look over at the doctor. She’s still glaring at me, but there’s a brightness in her eyes that tells me she’s enjoying our little argument as much as I am.
She’s looking exceedingly lovely today. While I was entranced by her yesterday—the glowing skin, the disheveled hair, the way her thin clothes clung to her body—I must admit I’m finding today’s version of Doctor Elle just as intriguing. Her hair is straight today—though the humidity has already started to draw out a few wispy curls—and if I’m not mistaken, she’s even wearing makeup. What ever could have inspired this extra attention to detail?
I smile to myself. There are, I suppose, many reasons why a woman might spend extra time on her appearance, but I suspect there’s only one reason why today, of all days, Elle decided to do such a thing.
In spite of her protests, she’s trying to impress me. And I have every intention of taking full advantage of that.
“Why don’t we get to business?” I say. “Since you’re clearly quite busy around here.”
She crosses her arms. “We aren’t done talking about that little scene you just caused.”
“By all means, continue to lecture me, if that’s what you desire.” I stroll over to the wooden bench against the wall and sink down, propping my hands behind my head as I lean back. “I thought you were eager to have our business over and done with, but if you prefer to spend more time in my company, then please, go on. I’m free all afternoon.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”
“I try.”
She doesn’t return my grin. Instead, she turns on her heel. “Come on. I’ve gotten the financial statements together.”
I hop up and follow her into her office—taking full advantage of the view along the way. Her pants hug the round curve of her ass in a way that brings all the blood rushing straight to my cock, but I force myself to focus. I have a game to play, and if I try to move too fast, I’ll only send Elle running away again.
Her office, while still as empty and poorly stocked as before, looks a little neater today. There’s a stack of papers and files on the rickety table serving as her desk, and she taps it with her hand as she sinks onto her chair.
“There you go,” she says. “Have at it.”
I take the seat across from hers and pull the papers toward me. “Would you care to take me through it?”
She shakes her head. “Not really. You can read, can’t you? Or did they forget to teach you that at the same time they forgot to teach you manners?”
“Forgive me,” I say, raising a hand in surrender. “I simply wanted to know if there was anything you wanted to share that wasn’t explicitly stated here. I understand that not everything is always clear on paper. There are some things numbers can’t explain.”
That seems to surprise her. Her mouth falls open slightly, but for once, she doesn’t try to argue. Instead, I can almost see her walls coming down a little.
“It’s true,” she says as I flip open the top file. “Sometimes it’s not as simple as balancing the funds coming in with those going out.” There’s something almost wistful in her voice—something that sounds like hope.
And, God help me, I don’t want to be the one to take that hope away.
We can talk about the specifics of the clinic’s financial situation later. Now, I find myself wanting to kindle that bit of light for her. I’ve seen the passionate Elle, the capable Elle, the determined Elle—and now I have an intense longing to see the softer Elle. The one she’s hiding behind all the bravado.
“You’re right,” I tell her. “Sometimes it isn’t that simple. That’s why I’m here—to see and understand the things the Montovia Medical Council can’t see by only looking at the numbers.” I spread my hand against the page at the top of the file. “So tell me, Elle. What should I know about this place and your work here?”
She blinks. “I…” For the briefest of moments, I see the emotions flicker across her face—hope, of course, but also fear, and sadness, and longing—and I’m suddenly struck by how lonely it must have been here for her this past year, even with her brother so close. She’s been dealing with so much of this alone, working essentially by herself so far away from her home. Once again, I find myself wondering what drove her out here. What is she running from?
But before I can nudge her in that direction, she shakes her head, and instantly I see the walls go back up.
“I do the best I can,” she says simply. “All the money we receive goes into the clinic and toward the care of the people here. Most of them can’t afford to pay for the care I provide, but I refuse to turn anyone away.” She crosses her arms again. “But you knew all that.”
“Indeed I did,” I say, flipping over the top page. My eyes skim over the numbers, but I don’t read anything. Frankly, I couldn’t care less about these bloody financial statements. “But I thought you might have more to say.”
“You know what I have to say,” she tells me. The bit of softness I saw is disappearing again, lost behind her distrust of me.
I close the file. “I’m attempting to extend an olive branch, Doctor. We both have business to do, but we can be friends—”
“And I’ve told you that I know you aren’t interested in being friends. We had all these arguments yesterday, Your Highness.”
“Well, if you’d prefer to be more than friends, I have no intention of arguing with that,” I say, grinning. “But I’d settle for less than friends as well, as long as it allowed us to move forward with the proceedings.”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head again, then leans forward, holding her face in her hands in apparent exasperation.
“Why are you doing this?” she asks into her palms. “Why are you making this so difficult?” She doesn’t sound angry—just defeated. And sad.
My chest tightens. I have no interest in distressing anyone—but least of all this woman, who puts on such a brave face but appears to be suffering gravely beneath the surface. I close the file and sit back.
“We can put this off until tomorrow,” I say gently.
She drops her hands. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Then what would you like me to do, Elle?” I say, leaning forward across the table. “We can put this off until another day, or we can deal with it now. You can tell me more about the clinic, or I can analyze these financial statements without that information. The one thing I cannot do is walk away from my responsibility.” I drop my voice slightly. “Somehow, though, I don’t think you want that. I think you’re grateful to have someone to talk to besides your brother and Raul.”
“I’m not that pathetic,” she says, but her eyes fall away from mine. “And I have plenty of people to talk to.”
“Mm. I suppose you know better than I do.” I slide my finger across a crack in the vinyl surface of the table between us. “May I ask you, Elle, when was the last time you did more than talk with someone?”
She understands my meaning immediately, and her eyes snap back to mine. “You most certainly may not. How the hell is that any of your business? Or is that an acceptable question in your country?”
“Forgive me for giving offense. I simply didn’t want to make any assumptions. After all, you’ve been here for a year—”
“And you think I haven’t…that I’ve been alone all this time?”
“As I said, I didn’t want to assume anything.” For all I know, it’s possible she’s had some affair with a local man, or even one of those repellent backpackers coming through—but judging by her reaction, my initial guess was correct.
“My sex life is none of your business,” she says.
“I never claimed it was.”
“And I don’t see why it matters. It’s not like you can’t have a fulfilling life without sex. There are more important things in this world than getting off.” Her cheeks are getting redder with every word, but she can’t seem to stop herself. “And maybe you’d know that, too, if you thought with something b
esides your cock.” She seems to realize she’s given more away than she intended to, because she clamps her lips together. Her chest rises and falls, straining against a shirt that is intoxicatingly snug across her breasts.
I don’t say anything immediately. Instead, I straighten slightly, watching as the blush on her cheeks spreads all the way to her ears.
“Perhaps you’re right,” I say. “But there’s no shame in having needs, Doctor. No shame in wanting someone to hold you at night, or wanting to enjoy the pleasure of another’s body. Yes, life is full of other perfectly wonderful things, but I dare you to look me in the eye and tell me honestly that your body doesn’t crave that intimacy.” I hear her breath catch as my hand closes over hers. “I dare you to look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t thought about doing those very pleasurable, very intimate things with me.”
Her breaths are shallow and fast. She can’t seem to find her voice.
“Tell me that you haven’t thought about those things,” I tell her, “and I’ll never raise the subject again. But tell me you have, Elle, and I will make sure I fulfill every one of your fantasies and more.”
Elle
Fuck. Me.
There’s no way in hell I’m saying that out loud, even though it’s exactly what I want him to do. No. Way. I’m not saying that ever—not for him, not even if he is a prince. Not for anyone. And not for…him.
“My body…” My voice cracks under the strain. “Is not…”
I expect him to give me another one of those telling grins, but he doesn’t. The look on his face is all too serious and his eyes—damn if they don’t pierce right the hell through me. “Go on¸ Doctor.”
“Not…not your concern.” I clear my throat, regaining some semblance of dignity and composure. “My needs or lack thereof are of no concern. Not to you and not to anyone.”
Yeah, Elle, way to tell him. I don’t believe my weak-willed attempt at standing up for myself any more than he will.
I hate myself for being like this. Weak. Feeble and uncertain. I only remember one other time I’ve acted like this—and I’ll be damned if it’s going to happen again.
The time I spent in medical school was no picnic, but I learned how to mostly stand up for myself there—I had to, or I would have been eaten alive. Senior doctors—and hell, nurses for that matter—lived to tear apart medical students and residents who couldn’t be assertive. That was a lesson I had learned quickly, especially as a woman. I only wish it had followed me to this hellhole.
And to the job I had before this.
I straighten, reaching to tap again on the stack of papers I’ve so neatly arranged on my desk. “Do what you need to do. If you have any questions, you know where to find me.”
I stand and turn on my heel, walking out of the office before I take an immediate turn to go into the treatment area.
I let out a long breath and lean myself against the wall for a moment—more to recover from whatever the hell that was than anything else.
Raul is standing at the sink across the room, washing the instruments I used on Owen a little while ago, and he turns to me, lifting a brow.
I straighten, smoothing down my shirt as I walk over to him. “How are you feeling?”
He smiles, turning back to the dirty instruments. “Much better, Doctor Elle.”
“You’re taking your medicine?”
He nods, not making eye contact with me.
He’s lying, but there isn’t anything I can do. Not here. He can’t afford the medicine I prescribed for him, even if he could find a pharmacy to get it. Once I get back home, I’m hoping I can get my hands on some samples of the heart medication he needs—and I’ll have to try to get it back here to him somehow.
The guy who thinks he’s prince of the jungle doesn’t know it yet, but I’m planning to come back here. I have no idea how I’m going to do it or how I’m going to get the money, but I’m going to do what I need to do. I’ve been emailing pharmaceutical companies for the past year, but they won’t do anything for this place. It isn’t American, and even if it were, it’s a children’s clinic. Prince High and Mighty is right—there are no provisions for adults to be treated here. But there isn’t any place else for them to go, either. It isn’t like they can hop in the car and go down the street to the hospital—the nearest one is forty miles away. Forty miles seems like nothing when you have a car, but when you have no transportation—it’s a long walk for someone who’s sick.
Somehow, I’m going to get the money to build my own clinic. I’m not sure where the funds are going to come from, but I think if I talk to a few of my former co-workers, they might be able to help. The hospital I worked at before owes me. That asshole former boss of mine really owes me, especially since I left without too much of a fuss.
His career was all it was about. What about mine? What the hell did I spend all those years training for? To be thrown out on my ear because some bastard couldn’t keep his hands to himself?
I was so immature back then. If I’d been able to stand up for myself, I wouldn’t have even come here. I would have… I don’t know what I would have done. Owen seemed to be pretty worried I might throw myself off a building or something, but that isn’t me. I was young and stupid then, and I’m not either of those things anymore. This clinic isn’t able to do the things it should do or provide the kind of care it should provide, but if it’s done nothing else for anyone, it’s helped me grow up a little. Mature into the doctor I always wanted to be.
Maybe if the people of Montovia knew what was really going on here, they’d throw the residents of Rio de Campo a bone or something. Not just send over vaccines and supplies for well-child checks. Not that I wouldn’t love to see some children who were actually healthy once in awhile. But that is a cultural thing Montovia doesn’t seem to understand—the residents of this village don’t bring healthy children to see the doctor, even if those services would be free for them. I don’t think the royal family thought about it when they set up this clinic—providing free checkups and vaccines does nothing when so many kids are sick. It isn’t the kind of service needed here, even if they meant well by setting it up in the first place.
And maybe if I can get my own clinic up and running, I can do something about the lung infection the babies here seem to get after it rains. I would bet good money it’s a fungal infection, but without a lab to do some tests, there’s no way for me to know. I hope the hospital I’ve been sending the kids to is doing those tests, but they don’t give me any information. To the hospital, I’m the lady who pays the bills, not anyone of significance.
I walk over to the gurney to clean up my mess from treating Owen, and it seems suspiciously quiet back here. The instruments clink in the steel sink where Raul is washing them, preparing them to be sterilized, and I disinfect the gurney and prepare it for the next patient.
Prince Leo is right—I am too busy to think about him. There’s more than enough for me to do here—today and every day—and I certainly don’t need the complication of some man fucking things up for me. Besides, I’m only under the control of this place for the next three days. And today is almost over—there are only two more working days left for me to worry about it.
So what if he finds something amiss in the financial records? I’m not a bookkeeper and I have done the best I could with what I’ve had. It’s more than anyone could say for the last person who ran this place—he walked out on his contract six months early. And the place was pretty much gutted when I arrived.
The door swings open and Prince Leo stands just inside the doorway, staring at me. There’s no trace of a smile on his face and I see there’s not going to be any more of the playful arguing we’ve been enjoying. By his expression I see he’s found whatever it is he was looking for—and he’s going to blame me for it.
Well, you had your chance, Elle. All you had to do was tell him you wanted him to fuck you. Yes, and no doubt he would have obliged, but the outcome would still be the same—he was goin
g to go through the finances eventually. He still would have figured out how the majority of his family’s money is being sent to the hospital down the road—and then he would still fire my ass anyway. Having sex with him would have only delayed things by another day or two.
I’m not sure why I even care at this point. It isn’t like I’m out job hunting or anything—after the past year, I doubt I can work under close supervision again. The freedom I have here is thrilling—even though I’m not able to care for children in exactly the way I dreamed of, I wouldn’t want to go back to having someone constantly watching over me. It’s something few doctors in the States know about unless they’ve worked on their own out in the field. This is what we want—this is the doe-eyed dream of almost everyone that goes into any field of medicine. It’s what we all want—to help. To make a difference. Not to be at the beck and call of shareholders or CEOs or to be prescribing drugs to people because they saw some commercial about them on television. Working here matters. And it’s changed me for the better. I need to remind myself of that.
Leo clears his throat. “I have some questions, Doctor.”
I sanitize my hands, rubbing my palms together. “Of course you do,” I mutter under my breath.
His gaze narrows a bit, but he says nothing. He merely turns and walks back through the swinging door.
I have nothing to be afraid of. Even if he accuses me of embezzling funds, there’s nothing he can do about it. Not that I am or ever would—but I’m sure it looks that way. I’ll be off the hook after the close of business the day after tomorrow. And as soon as I am, I’m going to take matters into my own hands and make sure the people here get the care they deserve—not the half-assed children’s wellness clinic his country built.
I follow him back into my office and he drops onto the chair in front of my desk with a sigh. “Elle—”