Billionaire Doctor, Ordinary Nurse

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘Is everything OK?’

  ‘Fine.’ He snapped to attention. ‘I am just finishing…’ He stood up without looking up, closing down his computer and picking up some papers. ‘Has George rung the obstetrician?’

  ‘George hasn’t even been in to see her, just Melanie and I. She’s literally only just come in and we thought it better if one of the senior staff see her.’

  ‘You said she seemed OK.’ It was Iosef frowning now—frowning at Annie who was staring at him. He was suddenly more remote than usual, impossible to reach, to touch, and the anger boiling inside her now was not solely on behalf of her patient. Even if every word voiced related to work, Annie knew on a deeper level, knew as sure as eggs were eggs, that there was another conversation going on entirely. ‘George can manage her care!’

  ‘This from a doctor who barely lets George suture his own patients, a doctor who runs around giving out drugs, policing everyone—but now, when a fragile woman is brought in, someone who needs a senior doctor…’ his face was as white as chalk as she confronted him, a muscle pounding in his cheek as black eyes refused to look at her ‘…you’re suddenly only too happy to pass the buck. What is your problem, Iosef?’

  ‘Right now…’ His voice was surly, eyes narrowed to two slits as he glanced at his watch. ‘My problem is a terminally ill father and his doctor who I am supposed to be meeting in ten minutes to discuss his pain regime. You know, I have spent five years working in a place where most of the babies filling the orphanages are abandoned. Don’t question me when this is something I used to deal with on a daily basis.’

  ‘I understand that you—’

  ‘Understand?’ he interrupted her with a sneering, mirthless laugh, the black mood that had rumbled all day reaching its tipping point. ‘You understand, do you? You have the temerity to stand there and say you understand how I am feeling when we had a four-year-old in this morning who had nearly drowned, we lost a thirty-nine-year-old woman to cancer at nine minutes past two—and I know the time because I was the one who wrote the death certificate. Why isn’t that on the news? Why isn’t the whole department wringing their hands about that, instead of creating a circus over two relatively healthy people? Understand. This—is—nothing—new—to—me!’

  ‘Haven’t you gone yet?’ Jackie, back from her meeting, popped her head around the door, her smile fading as she picked up on the thick tension in the room. ‘Is everything OK?’

  ‘I was just letting Iosef know that the baby’s mother has come in.’ Annie cleared her throat, her cheeks burning with anger, her throat dry at his brutal words and her heart weary with it all. Hell, she’d wanted emotion, wanted to know how he was feeling—but not like this! ‘The parents don’t seem to have a clue and I thought it more appropriate that a senior doctor—’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Jackie said easily, clearly assuming she now knew what was going on. ‘Iosef has to dash off this evening, don’t you? Anyway, it might be more comfortable for her to speak to a woman.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Iosef called to her departing back, picking up his keys and heading to the door. He paused to wait for her to exit so he could lock up, but still she stood there. And, yes, clearly he hadn’t been lying, maybe he did have somewhere he needed to be—but he was being evasive.

  ‘I’m glad.’ She could feel his impatience, knew he wanted her to leave, wanted this conversation to be over, but somehow she also knew that something had seriously rattled him, that on some level she didn’t understand she was seeing a side of Iosef he didn’t usually choose to reveal. ‘I’m glad!’ Annie said again, only more loudly this time, ignoring the hiss of his breath as she refused to move. ‘Glad that it is on the news, glad that I live in a country that balks at the thought of anyone abandoning a baby, that still has the heart to be shocked that a parent could leave their own child—’

  ‘Leave it!’ he barked. ‘Just leave it, Annie!’

  ‘Leave what?’ Annie challenged, her chin jutting defiantly, shaking as she saw that she had touched a nerve that was clearly raw and forbidden but probing it anyway. ‘Oh, I’m sorry—I didn’t realize. Is this another thing we can’t discuss?’

  Thankfully he closed the door—thankfully because any semblance of this being a professional difference of opinion had long since gone. And he knew that, too, turning the lock just in case Jackie, or a domestic, or another of the hundreds he insisted they lie to might stumble in on this.

  This what? she screamed in her head as he came over, because even if he meant everything to her, what they had could hardly be described as a relationship. But he knocked the wind out of her again by taking the road least expected. ‘Annie…’ His voice was weary, a heavy mix of exhaustion and exasperation. His hands reached out for her, his fingers knotting her hair, his head burying itself in her neck, groaning her name over and over before finally revealing just a little bit more of nothing. ‘I don’t want to deal with my thoughts now.’ He was almost pleading, his appeal toying with her soul as his mouth searched her neck, easily crossing her boundaries again as he pushed her to the desk.

  His kisses were so hard they should have hurt, but she hurt anyway, her mouth searching his because it was easier than speaking, easier than voicing what had to be asked, easier for his lips to deliver release than deliver an answer she didn’t want to deal with.

  For now…Annie promised herself. Just for now.

  She could almost glimpse the ache of withdrawal that would surely come afterwards—ravenous now for what had to be the final fix, the final bliss of oblivion before she confronted hell.

  And he craved oblivion, too.

  More than her even.

  This aloof, remote man needed her now on a level she’d never experienced, his frantic lips still tasting her as he pushed up her skirt, his impatient fingers shredding her pantyhose, tearing at her knickers. And if it was frenzied it wasn’t without sentiment. Emotionless sex was impossible with this man, Annie pulling at his clothes as frantically as he tugged at hers, opening his shirt so she could suck on his shoulder, feel the blissful scratch of his thighs against hers, touching him, tasting him, feeling him, devouring him because somehow she knew she was kissing him goodbye.

  Because it was just too good and too bad and too dangerous to last, her release meeting his as he dived inside her, followed closely by tears, not at what had taken place but at what now must.

  ‘I’ll come over later.’ He said it into her hair, held her tightly when he had to let go.

  ‘Why don’t I come over to you?’ she offered, but it wasn’t out of kindness. She closed her eyes and prayed for a yes, her eyes screwing closed as he gripped her tighter and shook his head.

  ‘Stay with me.’ His head was back in her neck, their bodies still entwined, coming down slowly from the heady rush, somehow both knowing the landing was going to be bumpy. ‘Stay with me for a bit longer.’

  Confusing words made sense. Annie knew he was asking her not to ask, to hold onto what they had for just a little while longer—only she couldn’t.

  ‘We should go out tonight…’ Her voice was hesitant, both bodies tensing as she refused to carry on playing the game they’d started. ‘Catch a movie or something…’

  But still he tried.

  ‘It’s been a long day. I’ll grab some take-away.’

  She was really crying now, silent, wretched tears as the writing on the wall came into horrible focus. ‘Why can’t I come over to you?’ Pulling back, she stared at his pained face, watched his mouth struggle to form an excuse, and actually wanted to slap him for what he’d made her. ‘I—want—to—go—out—tonight!’ Insistent words were delivered through bitter lips. ‘In the city. I want to eat out at some fabulous restaurant, slap bang under bright lights—my treat,’ she spat, ‘in case you’re worried I’m after you for your money.’

  ‘Annie, please…’

  ‘You know…’ Pushing him away, then peeling off shoes and shredded stockings and panties didn’t make for a particularly dignified
ending. Neither did a running nose when she finally managed to look at him. ‘There are two reasons a man doesn’t want to be seen with a woman—either he’s ashamed of her or worried he’s going to get caught. So which one is it, Iosef?’

  ‘You don’t understand!’

  ‘And I’m quite sure you’re about to tell me that she doesn’t understand you either. Actually, don’t even bother answering my question.’ She put up a shaking hand. ‘Because I don’t really care which one it is. Whether or not I’m good enough for you, Iosef, I’m good enough for me—and if there is someone else, screw you!’ Putting her shoes back on, she ran for the door but, forgetting it was locked, had to suffer the indignity of waiting for him to come over with his keys. But he refused to open it, prolonging the agony, prolonging the inevitable.

  ‘Why would you think I was ashamed of you, Annie? I would give anything—’

  ‘Open the door.’

  ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘OK then. I’ll talk—and you can listen. Remember that “silly girl” taunt when you thought I was anorexic?’

  ‘What the hell does that have to do with this?’

  ‘Well, I was that silly girl once,’ she shouted, ‘when I was a teenager—counting calories, tummy crunches, hating every piece of my skin. And I feel as if I’m becoming that person again.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  He didn’t get it—she didn’t really get it. It wasn’t food that was the problem, it was him, the lies she was telling herself and the lies by omission she was telling others—living a secretive existence again. ‘I hate what I let you make me…trying to look perfect 24/7 in case the fabulous Iosef Kolovsky decides to drop around and ask me to drop my knickers.’

  ‘Have I ever once put any pressure on you to look good?’ His voice was breathless. It was as if she’d slapped him, her venom stunning him, his expression reeling from her confession. ‘Have I ever once made you feel less than—?’

  ‘Have you ever once been truly honest with me?’

  She hated it that he couldn’t answer, hated it that he screwed his eyes closed.

  ‘Open the door!’

  ‘Annie, this is not about how you look,’ he attempted, but she shook her head.

  ‘Take me out tonight, then.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘But you’ll take Candy out?’

  ‘Candy and I…It’s complicated…’ And on cue his phone rang. Whether or not it was Candy, Annie knew that it often had been and she almost did slap him then, her hand actually lifting as his teeth gritted for the impact, his lying eyes pleading for understanding when she found out she couldn’t resort to violence. ‘Annie, if you’ll just calm down for a moment.’

  ‘Calm down!’ Her hand clamped over her mouth instead of his cheek, her eyes livid, the incredulous laugh that shot from her lips bordering on hysterical as the phone that had gone silent for a few seconds started trilling again. And she realised what she’d become as she dragged her hand down and rattled at the door.

  ‘You’d better answer your phone—someone clearly needs to talk to you.’

  ‘She can wait!’

  ‘Well, I can’t.’ Annie retorted. ‘I swear to God, Iosef, if you don’t unlock the door this second, I’m going to scream!’

  And even if he was unlocking the door now, even if it was opening and she was running out, it was like being thrown into prison, a prison of her own making—the sentence for her crime never more evident as Melanie swung out of the mini-kitchen with a tray of coffee for Rebecca’s family.

  ‘Annie, are you still here?’ Her friendly greeting faded, concern etched on her face as she took in Annie’s tear-streaked face. ‘What on earth happened?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You’re crying!’

  Worse than prison, Annie thought, she’d been placed in solitary.

  ‘It’s just been one helluva shift,’ Annie attempted. ‘You know, Mrs Lucas the baby and her mum—I guess it just gets to you sometimes.’

  ‘I’ll come over,’ Melanie offered. ‘As soon as my shift ends.’

  ‘No.’ Annie shook her head and lied to her friend because she had to. ‘I’d really rather be alone.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  FOR Annie it was excruciating to sit in the staffroom where she’d once been so comfortable and attempt to groan about the weather or empty coffee-jar. Hell, to talk to him about a patient, or work alongside him, and just, just…unbearable to have to walk into his office on occasion and not remember what had taken place on his desk.

  ‘These are the files you wanted.’ She couldn’t look at him and couldn’t look at the desk either, couldn’t even put the notes down where her bottom had been, so instead, taut with tension, she sort of thrust them at him.

  ‘Thank you. Annie, could we—?’

  ‘Jackie wants everyone in the staffroom in fifteen minutes.’ Annie cut him off as she always did when he tried to talk to her about them.

  ‘She is going to announce that I’m being offered the consultant’s position.’

  ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘If it is a problem for you…’

  ‘There are a million exe’s working alongside each other—I’m sure we can manage to remain civil!’ Annie snapped, thankful for Melanie’s unwitting words. May be there were, as Melanie had said, a million exes working alongside each other and managing to be civil, but on reflection maybe she was wrong.

  A working relationship with someone you’d had a personal relationship with wasn’t an ideal scenario.

  ‘Even so,’ Iosef said, ‘if it is going to be a problem for you, I need you to tell me—preferably before the announcement’s made.’

  ‘Oh, so you’d turn it down for me?’ Annie scoffed.

  ‘You were here first. Morally I feel—’

  ‘Morally…’ Annie actually managed to laugh. ‘You’re very good at saying the right thing, but we both know you’ve got the morals of an alley cat!’

  ‘Annie, please…’

  ‘Get over yourself, Iosef.’ Annie turned for the door. ‘I already have.’

  Brave words perhaps, and they both knew she was lying.

  Both knew she didn’t hate him, because it was hard to hate a person you loved. Harder when that person seemed to be fading before her eyes. As the days moved endlessly on, the dashing, cocky, arrogant doctor who had swept her off her feet and out of her mind seemed somehow diminished now.

  His face was grey with tension, exhaustion seeping from him as he dragged himself through each day. Sometimes she’d stare at those broad, taut shoulders and the impulse to go over, kiss the back of his neck and massage away the tension was overwhelming. Especially as she knew that he needed it, wanted it—knew that he was weak for her, too.

  Knew because her mobile and doorbell often trilled, sometimes late at night, like an addict begging for a fix, and it was safer, far safer to pull the pillow over her head, to delete his texts unread, to volunteer for a month of night duty. And as a last line of defence she washed off the tan and refused to shave her legs, because if somehow she did weaken, if somehow she did actually relent and open the door to him, it wouldn’t go any further because she’d hardly let him see her like that.

  The mood in Emergency was as sombre as Annie felt when she arrived for her night shift, and she headed through the darkened obs ward, the curtains pulled around a bed, Melanie giving her just a grim smile as Annie walked past. Pulling out her supper, Annie hauled her bag into her locker then put a smelly, garlic-laced curry in the fridge, so in case Iosef did get called in she’d be stinking to high heaven!

  ‘Poor patients!’

  ‘Talking to yourself again?’ Jackie made her jump as she came in and Annie forced a smile, but it changed when she saw Jackie’s tired face. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘You haven’t heard?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Ivan Kolovsky was brought in this afternoon.’

  ‘Oh.’ It felt as if the marrow w
as seeping out of her bones—the effort of trying to remain professional and compassionate as she would be for any other colleague an almost impossible feat when it was Iosef they were talking about. ‘Is he…?’

  ‘No.’ Jackie shook her head. ‘But it is the end of the road for him. It’s been a very trying evening. Iosef had been here working most of the night and all day—he was just finishing up when Ivan was brought in, so he’s beyond exhausted. The plan had been for Ivan to die at home, but apparently his wife panicked. We were going to transfer him but he’s just too ill to be moved.’

  ‘So he’s on the private ward?’ Annie frowned, wondering why Jackie was telling her so much, wondering why she was privy to so much information, and rather personal information, too. Her heart thudded in her chest as realisation hit even before Jackie answered her.

  ‘We’re trying to keep it from the press so, rather than have him fully admitted, I’ve closed off the obs wards and he’ll stay here until…’

  ‘Here!’ Annie’s voice was a croak, the impossibility of being so close to Iosef and not able to do anything almost more than she could bear, only her pain hadn’t touched sides yet, her head shaking as Jackie rammed in the knife.

  ‘Can you get the handover from Melanie?’

  ‘Me?’ She was shaking her head more firmly now, deciding that if she had to then she would tell Jackie the truth, positive that it would just make this wretched night, even more miserable, and not just for her but for Iosef, too. ‘Jackie, Iosef and I don’t really get on—I’m sure he’d prefer it if someone else looked after his father.’

  ‘He wouldn’t.’ It was Jackie shaking her head now.

  ‘We’re actually not talking at all at the moment,’ Annie insisted. ‘I can assure you that he won’t want me—’