Embrace: The Secret Billionaire Asher Christmas Duet, Two (The Dark Christmases Book 9)

by Z. L. Arkadie

  Her reaction toward me was fine. Over time, my newness would wear off, and she would point her attraction elsewhere. However, facing Julia that morning had incited an aggression within me that had been long dormant. I found myself wanting to remind Deb of who was in fucking charge and that there was no one higher to report to than me. But I took a beat to get a grip on myself. Even though my pervading desire to torture Julia, the feeling that kept me tethered to her, had dissipated, she still brought out the worst in me.

  “Do you think it’s fair what you said about Dr. Ross?” I asked, keeping cool, calm, and collected.

  “She’s suddenly Dr. Ross again and not Penina?”

  She was snarling, showing teeth, and that discombobulated me. I cleared my throat, wondering if we would be able to reach an amicable conclusion to this conversation.

  “To me, she’s both, and she’s been saving your department’s ass for the better part of three years, performing surgeries that only full-fledged residents should’ve. She finally gets a break, and you want to attribute it to her relationship with me?” I leaned closer to Deb so she wouldn’t miss one word of what I was going to say. “And we are in a relationship. I love her, and that’s that.” I stood up straight.

  Deb’s face turned as her gaze bounced around the hallway. I waited patiently, giving her more time to think before responding. Then she coughed into her fist to clear her throat.

  “Well, I still don’t know where Dr. Ross is. I haven’t seen her since this morning. But—” she said in a way that seemed like maybe it hurt to let go of her self-righteous condemnation of Penina—“I agree. Dr. Ross has been a credit to our department and to the hospital in general. She deserves that fellowship.”

  She glared at me as if she wanted me to get away from her. I was happy to oblige.

  After a sharp nod I said, “Thanks, Dr. Glasgow,” and shuffled up the hallway.

  Satisfied it ended amicably between Glasgow and me, I went to Si’s office, but Penina wasn’t there either. I went to the eighth floor, room 809, where he was supposed to have met up with Greg Carroll. The room was empty. I stopped to think. I was in a race to keep Penina from running into Julia. Only God knew what Julia would say to her. Julia could vex anyone, even if he or she had the resolve of the Dalai Lama.

  Standing in the middle of another hallway, unsure of my next move, I took my phone out of my coat pocket and sent a text to Si, asking where the hell he was.

  I’m in the planning meeting, brother. Where are you? he replied.

  Agitated, I rubbed the back of my neck. Fuck, that’s right. I was supposed to be there.

  Where’s Penina? I typed.

  With Carroll. They’ve gone to East River Medical Care Center for privacy. Get your ass here.

  “Fuck!” I shouted loudly enough to shatter glass.

  A few heads poked out of rooms.

  I turned away from them and stomped toward the closest elevator as I called Penina and once again reached her voice mail.

  “Call me when you get this,” I said.

  On the way up to the top floor, I decided to look on the bright side. She wouldn’t be running into Julia while at the private facility. And I trusted she wouldn’t take the bait for whatever trap Carroll was laying. The guy was more transparent than plastic wrap.

  Before I entered my first meeting of the day, Jasper texted me, asking Bryn and me to meet him at the family mansion in the Garden District for lunch and a meeting at noon. He said he wanted to lay it all out on the table—no more secrets, no more ghosts.

  I’ll see you at noon, I texted back.

  As a man in love with the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, I agreed with Jasper. All the shit that could destroy our family had to be immediately dealt with.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Penina Ross

  It was odd how quickly the chief had tried to shuffle us out of the hospital. Earlier, when I arrived on the eighth floor, he was in the hallway with Samantha Gladstone, head of communications and community outreach. They stopped their conversation to look at me. Before I could join them, she said thank you to him without giving me a second look then spun on her heel and walked away. I wasn’t offended by her lack of manners. Samantha was snooty and barely spoke to anyone. I always wondered how someone so cold and unlikable could be in charge of the hospital’s image and outreach.

  Regardless, the chief handed me my contract for the fellowship and asked me to sign while we were standing there.

  “I never sign anything without reading it thoroughly,” I said.

  “What? You don’t trust us?” he asked, giving me his charming smile.

  I looked off in the direction Samantha had walked. “What were you and Sam Gladstone talking about?”

  He pressed his lips together, eyeing me keenly. The way he looked at me made me nervous. I felt out of line, questioning him about what was more than likely a private matter that didn’t involve me. I didn’t want him to think that since I was in the bed and heart of the head honcho, I’d become too big for my britches.

  I shook my head. “Forget about it.”

  “Samantha has hired Julia Valentine as her new PR director.”

  Nearly choking with shock, I took a step back. “Julia Valentine?” I heard myself say her name, but I was so detached from my body that I wasn’t quite sure the voice was mine.

  “Yes. But don’t worry. You won’t run into her today, and count Greg Carroll as your last patient before you take sabbatical.”

  “Sabbatical?” I asked, still dazed by the previous revelation about Julia.

  The chief put a hand on by back, guiding me toward room 809. “I wasn’t able to procure the sort of discretion Mr. Carroll requested at this facility, anyway—especially with what’s going on with Asher and the Christmases. But I was able to call in a favor at East Lake. You know where that is, don’t you?”

  I nodded.

  “A team will be waiting for you when you arrive. I called down to the motor pool. Take one of the hospital vehicles. Any questions?”

  I was still stuck on Julia being employed by the hospital. “Does Asher know Julia works here?”

  “I’m not sure, but he will soon. But hear me well—” He put a hand on my other shoulder, garnering steady eye contact. “Don’t worry about Julia Valentine.” He checked over both shoulders. “The Christmases will foil whatever she’s planned.”

  I gasped, eyes bulging. “She’s planning something?” My voice was so small.

  “Julia Valentine always has a plan. But as I said, you have nothing to worry about.” He nodded, smiling. “Today could be your last day, Dr. Ross. That’s good news, is it not?”

  “I guess so.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “All I have to do is figure out what’s wrong with Greg Carroll and then I’m free?”

  Chief Brown handed me the order for Greg’s services, which included my point of contact. “Then you’re free. Good luck,” he said and walked off.

  I watched him until he turned the corner. Suddenly, the fact that I was one patient away from sabbatical struck me. Soon, I would be able to sleep in and make love to Asher without having to worry about my shift the next morning. No more night calls either. The only reason I’d come in at night was if I was needed for surgery. Soon, I would be free, which was why I was smiling from ear to ear when I opened the door.

  Greg, who was standing in front of the window, twisted around to face me.

  “There you are,” he said then frowned. “Your hair’s wet. Did you take a shower?”

  My mouth fell open, then I closed it as I touched my head. Fuck, the chief must’ve noticed too. No wonder everyone was staring at Asher and me. We looked like we’d just showered, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess we had taken one together.

  Greg would not quit asking me why I’d taken a shower. All I had to do was tell a lie to make him stop, but I was up to my eyeballs in lying by keeping secrets, both Asher’s and mine, so I just shrugged and sai
d, “Because I wanted to.”

  We were at the entrance of the carpool when Greg frowned at the line of white sedans, vans, and trucks.

  “What are we doing here?” he asked.

  “I’m checking out a car so I can drive us to the medical facility.”

  “I’m a big guy, and those are small cars,” he groused. “We’ll take my SUV.”

  “I thought you wanted to be discreet.”

  “I do, but come on.” He waved me away from the chain-link fence that surrounded the carpool. “My car. Let’s go.”

  My feet remained posted to the concrete. “I can’t. You’re a patient and one who woke up this morning and couldn’t remember his name. You’ve already endangered everyone—”

  “Okay. I heard you. Then you drive. I ride.”

  He tossed me the keys. Thank goodness I had good reflexes, because I caught them.

  Still, I pressed my lips together, feeling anxious. Driving Greg’s car felt as if I was crossing a line from professional to way too personal.

  “I’m not sitting in anything behind that fence. So make up your mind. Are you coming with me or not?”

  I didn’t need to program the navigational system, since I’d been to the private facility a dozen times over the course of my residency. The place was high tech and the people that worked there highly skilled. They worked fast too. Whatever was wrong with Greg, I would have a good indication of what that was before we left the facility.

  However, I’d never understood why anyone needed or wanted a car as enormous as Greg’s SUV. It was a Hummer, and driving it made me feel as if we were part of a military coalition with orders to seize the city. But goodness, driving it sure was fun. It was as if I were sitting on top of the world, and the wheels rolled down the street smoothly, just like we were riding on butter.

  “So, who did you take a shower with? Dr. Christmas?” Greg asked.

  I jerked my head around to glance at him then quickly put my eyes back on the road. “What?” How the hell does he know Dr. Sparrow is Dr. Christmas?

  “Surprised I know who your boyfriend really is?”

  “Very surprised.”

  “It’s all over the news. He’s big time. The Christmases are like the Kennedys. I’m surprised we don’t have a motorcade following us right now. I think it’s because you’re with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

  “Why would I need a motorcade?”

  “Aren’t you married to Asher Christmas?”

  I sniffed. “No.”

  “Oh,” he said as if he was titillated by my answer.

  “Then you’re his girlfriend and not his wife. You know what that means, don’t you?”

  “The fact that I’m not married to him?”

  “You’re fair game.”

  That we were having that conversation felt surreal. “What brought all this on, anyway?” I asked.

  “Brought all what on?”

  “Last night at the party, you showed no interest in me. Now you’re claiming I’m fair game?”

  When I glanced at Greg, he was smirking. “That was tactic. It didn’t work. You left with the wrong guy.”

  I did a double take. “You mean I left with my boyfriend.”

  “A boyfriend is not—”

  “A husband. Yes. You said that already. And that might be part of your belief system, but it’s not part of mine.”

  “Did you shower with him? I know you were with him earlier. He wears this cologne. I can smell him on you.”

  I sniffed one of my shoulders then the other. “Cologne?”

  “Oh, that’s a good sign,” he said, cheesing.

  “What’s a good sign?”

  “You don’t know how his cologne smells.”

  “Maybe it’s not cologne you’re smelling.”

  “It’s cologne.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Ask him. Call him now. Let him know you’re with me.”

  I shook my head like a rattle. “Enough about Jake … I mean Asher.”

  Greg sneered at me as if my blunder was the reason why he believed Asher and I would never go the distance. However, he was wrong. I would never judge Asher for seeing how it felt to live as someone else. It was a bold move, and frankly, I wished I’d thought of it. What would it have been like to be Raine Waters or Rose Redd instead of Penina Ross? Would either of those women have become a surgeon? Both sounded like stripper names, and I wasn’t stripper material.

  “What about you, Greg?” I asked, thankful that we were almost at our destination.

  “What about me?” he asked.

  “What happened between you and your last girlfriend?”

  “Ha,” he said, quickly turning to look out the window. “Girlfriend? I don’t do girlfriends. I’m the dope who goes straight from meeting them to asking them to marry me then calling off the engagement. But you, you’re a different caliber of woman.” He faced me, and even though I wouldn’t look at him, I could feel his eyes undressing me. “I’d follow through with you. We’d get married and move to Vermont. We’d own an apple farm, raise five kids, all of which I would definitely have a lot of fun impregnating you with.” He sucked air between his teeth, and through my peripheral vision I saw him grab his package.

  I couldn’t believe him. My mouth couldn’t close, and words wouldn’t form. I couldn’t even unpack all he had said. But there was something I had to say. Miss Nice Doctor had to be locked in a cage, and stern and professional Dr. Ross had to be released.

  “Greg, you’re making me uncomfortable with your level of flirting. I mean, impregnating me? I’m your doctor and may be your surgeon. Do you want me to help you with your brain? Or do I assign you to another doctor and keep the fuck away from you?”

  I forced my eyes to remain on the road as he sat quietly. Anticipation hung in the air. Is he going to respect my wishes or not? I glanced at him after I turned in to the parking lot.

  He was nodding thoughtfully.

  “What’s it going to be?” My tone remained stern.

  “First of all, I didn’t know ‘fuck’ was in your vocabulary. I like it. Secondly, I understand. I’m coming on strong as hell because I know there’s no beating Christmas. But fuck, I wish I had taken you from Rich when I had the chance. He didn’t deserve you. We’d be married by now.” He said that as though he actually believed it.

  “No, we wouldn’t be married.”

  “What?”

  “We wouldn’t be married.” I pulled into a parking space next to the entrance.

  “Why do you say that?” He sounded disappointed.

  I put the oversized SUV in park, turned off the engine, and made sure we kept steady eye contact. “Because I’m a surgeon, Greg. I’m not a woman who gives birth to five kids and lives on an apple farm. You’re infatuated by my looks, and that’s okay. If that’s the kind of man you are, then that’s who you are. But once you learned who I really am, how inaccessible someone like me can be, and how I will always choose my career over all the shit you want out of life, you’d run away from me like your feet were on fire.” And that I was one hundred percent sure of.

  Greg stared at me, blinking hard. It was as though he was rattled by what I had just said. I sat up taller, as if to show I was standing behind every word. It was best not to sugarcoat the truth.

  “I guess you’re right,” he said finally.

  “I am right. Who I am is why Rich and I broke up.”

  “Part of it,” he said. “Rich doesn’t know how to be faithful to a beautiful, smart, and classy woman like you. He’s already cheating on Court. The fucker,” he said as he opened the door. “Stay seated.”

  He jumped out of the passenger seat, trotted around the front of his SUV, and opened my door. Then he held out his hand.

  I hesitated but took it. “Thanks.”

  He smiled as he helped me out of the vehicle. “You’re welcome. Now let’s go see what the fuck is wrong with my brain, Dr. Ross.”

  Chapter Fifteen

 
; Penina Ross

  The professional staff got right to work. As Greg was prepped for an fMRI, X-rays, and a CT scan, I ran through his symptoms for my team of specialists. They asked me questions and made suggestions as we considered some causes and ruled out other possibilities. I had never considered infectious disease until Asher mentioned it earlier, so I ordered a full panel of blood tests to check for everything under the sun that could be associated with memory loss.

  Three hours later, Greg and I were alone in the examination room. I’d just told him that he indeed had mild CTE, which was not enough to cause his symptoms. His CTE couldn’t be helped though, since he’d been playing football since high school. Over the course of time, his condition would climb to the higher stages. It was up to him to make a choice about whether his brain was ultimately worth sixty million dollars.

  “If that’s not it, then what is it?” he asked.

  I pressed my lips together and shook my head out of frustration. “There has to be something you’re not telling me. It’s not syphilis …”

  He lurched back. “Syphilis?”

  “I had to check. You don’t have a blood clot or a tumor. We checked for steroids that we know cause brain impairment. Your vitamin B-12 levels are high, which, from your intake questionnaire, was to be expected. You don’t have hypothyroidism. The only thing I can think of is that you’re truly faking it just to get close to me.”

  He looked baffled while shaking his head adamantly. “Granted, Dr. Ross, I like being close to you, but that’s not it. Something’s fucking wrong.”

  I studied him as he massaged his temples. Am I missing something? Maybe his CTE was more progressive than the scan indicated.

  Sighing, I sat down in the chair across from him and crossed my legs, setting his chart on my lap. I pinched my lips together as I contemplated what to do next. I certainly didn’t want to leave the high-class facility without a final diagnosis. If it couldn’t be made at the East Lake facility, then EBHI would be our next option, only we couldn’t keep his treatment a secret from his team, the Voyagers.