Dr. Billionaire's Virgin
Page 1
Table of Contents
Prologue
Extended Epilogue
Kaden
Rose
Stay: A Second Chance Romance by Melinda Minx
Mason
Sophie
Also by Melinda Minx
About the Author
Dr. Billionaire’s Virgin
Melinda Minx
Contents
Prologue
1. Kaden
2. Rose
3. Kaden
4. Rose
5. Kaden
6. Rose
7. Kaden
8. Rose
9. Kaden
10. Rose
11. Kaden
12. Rose
13. Kaden
14. Rose
15. Kaden
16. Rose
17. Kaden
18. Rose
19. Kaden
20. Rose
21. Extended Epilogue
Stay: A Second Chance Romance by Melinda Minx
1. Mason
2. Sophie
3. Mason
4. Sophie
5. Sophie
6. Mason
7. Mason
8. Sophie
9. Mason
10. Sophie
11. Sophie
12. Mason
13. Sophie
14. Mason
15. Mason
16. Mason
17. Sophie
18. Mason
19. Sophie
20. Sophie
21. Mason
22. Mason
23. Sophie
24. Mason
25. Sophie
26. Mason
Also by Melinda Minx
Also by Melinda Minx
About the Author
Prologue
I feel the muscles in her body tighten and quiver as I run my hands up her sides.
“You’re sure?” I ask her.
She looks back up at me over her shoulder, and she nods. Her cheeks are flushed red.
“I want to hear you say it,” I hiss.
“I’m sure,” she says.
“Sure of what?”
“That I want you to take my virginity,” she says.
“When do you want me to take it?” I ask.
“Now,” she whispers, her voice barely a whisper. “Right now.”
“What if I want you to wait?” I ask.
“Please,” she says, her green eyes locking onto mine. “I can’t wait any longer.”
Her body looks so hot, so tight, so ready, and the sensation of her warm, smooth skin against my hands is too enticing. I can’t wait any longer either, but it feels good to let her know I’m in control.
I reach a hand between her legs, and I run my finger gently up her swollen and needy folds.
“You’re gushing wet,” I say.
“Please,” she says. “Please claim me.”
1
Kaden
It’s not a coma. She’s asleep. And nothing in the world can wake her up. I’ve been her doctor for the last five years, but never once have I seen her as much as stir.
Doctors, nurses, and hospital staff, they all call her Sleeping Beauty.
I peer down at her long, black hair that look so silky and soft splayed out on the pillow. My glance slides to her soft cheekbones and porcelain white skin. Her eyelids are shut, but I’ve seen those emerald green eyes before. Never with the spark of life in them, always pried open to check if the latest drug we prescribed is having any effect. I often wonder how those eyes would dance when she smiles. Of course, I’ve never even seen her smile, she’s always the same, still and quiet, entrenched in a serene, deep sleep.
I roll up my shirt sleeves and pull up a chair next to her bed. “Rose,” I say in a low voice.
A lot of my colleagues think I’m wasting my time. They think she’s a lost cause.
“Dr. Prince,” a woman’s voice says.
I turn around. It’s Dr. Maryanne Bell, director of the hospital.
“Hey, Dr. Bell,” I say.
“Don’t hey me, Dr. Prince,” she snaps. “Cover your arms. How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t care how nice your forearms look.”
She smirks at me. I can never tell if Dr. Bell wants to bang me, or bite my head off. If she wasn’t twenty years older than me, maybe I’d do her. I’m probably misreading her anyway. Or maybe she’s more like a praying mantis: she wants to bang me, and then bite my head off. I have to admit, though, she looks good for a woman pushing fifty-five. At least it wouldn’t be the worst way to go out.
“It’s not like Rose can be offended by my tattoos,” I say, crossing my arms.
I don’t roll my sleeves down.
Dr. Bell rolls her eyes. “Roll them back down before you make your rounds. It looks incredibly unprofessional. A doctor with tattoos, what were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I’m the best,” I say. “And that you’d have to deal with it.”
I grin, and she can do nothing but let out a dismissive sigh. She knows I’m right.
“Since when do you visit Rose Dorner?” I ask, suddenly skeptical about why she’s standing in the doorway. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in Rose’s room before.
“Kaden,” she says. Since when does Dr. Bell use my first name? This must be bad. “The bills for Rose’s care are being paid for through a provision in her parents’ will. That money is running out next month.”
“What about her brother Dylan?” I ask.
“Her brother is a barista,” Dr. Bell says. “He’s contributed what he’s been able to over the years, but it’s amounted to only a few days’ worth of care.”
My heart is pounding restlessly in my chest, but I’m trying to give off the impression that I’m calm and unflustered. I can’t let anyone suspect how much this bothers me. I need to offer plausible suggestions for why she needs to remain under my care without it appearing that I’m too personally involved in the outcome.
“She’s one of a handful of people in the world with this condition. This is a rare and important research opportunity. We need to figure out how to line up some research funding to keep her here.”
“Exactly,” Dr. Bell says. “And because there are only a handful of people in the world with this condition, as you said, there is very little special funding available to take advantage of the opportunity, as you so rightly suggest.”
More and more, it always comes down to dollar signs. No one gives two shits about the patients anymore, or the value of a human life. Rose’s brother and I are the only two people left in the world who care about her.
“What are you going to do once the funding runs out?” I finally ask.
I look down at Rose as Dr. Bell purses her lips into a thin, grim line. She fell asleep when she was just eighteen, still just a young and innocent fucking girl. How can you put a dollar value on what her life is worth?
“We’ll have to pull the plug, Kaden,” Dr. Bell says. “It’s not as if—barring a miracle—she would wake up again anyway. Maybe it’s all for the best.”
Without a second’s hesitation, I find myself right up in her face, my hands clenched into fists. The veins and muscles in my tattooed forearms are bulging, and my dark eyes lock onto Dr. Bell’s.
“What did you just say?” I hiss.
“Step off, Dr. Prince,” she says in a cold tone, shoving me back. “Your personal attachment to this patient is becoming detrimental to the welfare of your other patients—ones who are awake and need that same level of...dedication…that you have for Rose Dorner. Share it with all your patients, Dr. Prince.”
“I have a solution,” I say.
She shakes her head,
knowing what I’m going to say next. “I know you’re much wealthier than most brain surgeons, Dr. Prince…”
She doesn’t know the half of it.
“But,” she says, “doctors are legally forbidden from paying for their own patients’ care.”
“Then reassign me,” I say.
“The policy also applies to previous patients,” she says. “Unless you are planning to take up money laundering, it’s against policy to pay for her continued treatment.”
Fuck. I should have put money away for Rose while I still could have. I should have figured out how to launder it to her brother…something. I thought I’d have time if it came to that.
She turns on her heel and stalks out the door, leaving me standing there seething.
Once she’s gone, I rest my hand on Rose’s shoulder and squeeze. “I won’t let them pull the plug on you. I can’t.”
My promise to Rose starts to feel more and more empty with each passing day. Two weeks before her money is scheduled to run out, I catch Dr. Bell setting her room up for turnover. She’s already making plans for Rose to die. And it’s a completely preventable death, at that.
I’ve spent every moment of my free time since that day when Dr. Bell broke the news about Rose’s financial situation trying to figure out a solution, and last week I found one.
It’s a nano-device that has to be surgically implanted directly into the hypothalamus, into a small bundle of nerves known as the ventrolateral preoptic nucleus, or VLPO for short. This cluster of nerves acts like a switch, and determines whether someone is awake or asleep. In theory, the machine would counteract whatever circuits are crossed in Rose’s brain, and allow her brain to let her wake up. It would jumpstart her brain.
In theory.
The guy who invented the device is still testing it on rats. Luckily he’s right here in Pittsburgh, just a few blocks from my place.
That morning, I find myself pounding on his door.
He opens the door, greeting me blurry-eyed and wearing a bathrobe. “Yes? Who are you?”
“Dr. Meiner,” I say. “My name is Kaden Prince, I’m a doctor at Pittsburgh Memorial—”
“Pittsburgh Memorial,” he says, putting on his glasses. “You’re Rose Dorner’s doctor?”
I smile, but before I can react, he grabs me roughly by the collar and yanks me into his apartment. He tries to slam me into the wall, but I’m a lot stronger than he is. I shove him back. “What the fuck, doctor?”
“You’ve been blocking me for five years! I’ve requested access to Dorner, and you are the bastard that has blocked me from experimenting—”
“Water under the bridge,” I say, letting go of his shoulders. “Calm down.”
“Don’t calm down me, Prince!”
“Listen,” I say. “The device, the jumpstarter, does it work?”
“Now you’re interested?” he says, his eyes narrowed in fury. “I—”
“You and I both know,” I say, “that it wasn’t me who blocked you. Hell, I tried to get Dr. Bell to let you come see her. I want her to wake up, just as much as you do.”
He meets my gaze, his anger fading away. “The device works, but it will be years before I can test it on a human.”
“We have two weeks,” I say.
“You’re kidding me,” I say. “No, you’re shitting me, Dr. Bell.”
“It’s not my call,” Bell says. “It simply cannot be authorized. It’s too dangerous.”
“Too dangerous? Too fucking dangerous?” I shout. I can feel the vein pulsing in my neck.
“Check yourself, Dr. Prince!” Bell says, jabbing a finger at me.
“You check yourself!” I shout. “You’re telling me that I can’t operate on my patient because it’s too dangerous? When you’re the one who already has her bed and room set-up for a new patient because you have every intention of just letting her die? We’re not risking a fucking thing, Maryanne. She’s dead if we don’t operate. There’s no—”
“A hospital isn’t a tattoo parlor, Kaden,” Dr. Bell says, glaring at me and then redirecting her attention to my forearms. “There are rules and regulations that we must follow, and—”
“You think tattoo parlors don’t have rules?” I say. “They use fucking needles—”
“Not the point!” she shouts. “It’s been decided, Dr. Prince. Focus on your other patients, the ones you can save.”
“I’ll have a large coffee,” I say.
“One venti,” he says.
“What the fuck is that?” I ask.
“A large, sir,” he says, suddenly looking terrified at the crisp tone of my voice.
“Oh,” I say. “Listen, man, can I buy you a coffee, too?”
“Uh, I’m working,” he says. “And I’m not gay.”
“I’m Rose’s doctor,” I say. “We’ve gotta talk.”
He manages to convince a coworker to cover for him, and he steps away so we can sit down.
“You’re probably wondering why you’ve never seen me around…” Dylan says.
I try not to appear judgmental, but I’m pretty sure I must because he slouches down in his chair.
“When I see her,” he says, “It’s like she’s asleep—”
“She is asleep, Dylan.”
“I mean normal sleep,” he says. “I always visit on her birthday...and it’s so painful. I see her getting older, but it’s just her body. She’s...she’s lived seven years without even living. It always feels like I should be able to just shake her and she’d wake her up. But I can’t—I can’t do anything, Dr. Prince—”
“Dylan,” I say. “You can do something now,” I say. “But it’s kind of crazy and I’ll need to explain.”
He looks at me nervously, but I see a flicker of hope lighting up in his eyes.
“What’s that?” he says. “I’ll do anything for my sister.”
“You don’t actually have to do anything,” I say. “But if I get arrested, just promise me you’ll have my back and be on my side.”
“Arrested? What are you going to do to her?”
I roll Rose’s bed through the hallway. Everyone knows her plug is about to get pulled, so anyone who sees me moving her figures it must have something to do with whatever is coming. They all know I’m her doctor. No one stops me or questions me at this point.
I move her down a series of hallways, turning this way and that, until we come to the newly completed east wing. It’s a brand new wing of the hospital that is fully functional and ready to go, except for the paint hasn’t quite dried, and it won’t be ready for full use for another week or two.
I roll Rose down one of the operating halls. I can see Dr. Meiner hunkered down in the shadows.
“This is career suicide,” Meiner says.
“Not if it works,” I say. “You said it would work, right?”
He sighs. “It will work, but—”
“No buts, then,” I say. “Trust me, Pittsburgh Memorial will want to take credit for its success, and—”
“It’s my device,” he says, his body shaking and his eyes wide with anxiety.
“Right,” I say. “So you’ll have to have a slap fight with Dr. Bell, but the point is that when it does work, no one will want to press charges.”
“You’re sure the brother is on our side? What if it...doesn't work, will he—?”
“He understands the situation, Dr. Meiner. Now stop worrying about your pasty white ass and worry about Rose.”
We fall into silence and quickly get to work.
It’s messy business, brain surgery. It’s also what I’m best at.
Hours pass, and when it’s finally time to insert the device—a bundle of quantum circuits no larger than a few grains of sea salt—Meiner is sweating bullets.
“Careful,” he says.
“I’m a fucking brain surgeon,” I hiss. “I’m always careful.”
I get the device placed, and Meiner tells me he’ll activate it remotely once we have Rose’s skull back in place.
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That process takes another several hours. I don’t take any breaks or rest, and I still stay one hundred percent focused throughout the entire surgery.
“It’s done,” I say, after many grueling hours. “When do we…?”
“We need to wait at least a few hours,” Meiner says. “The brain needs a bit of time to start healing over the device, fusing with her neurons. It may start fusing as quickly as within the hour, but I’d feel better waiting for at least two or three just to be safe.”
Jesus. I really hope Meiner is right. Rose is as good as dead if he’s wrong, and both of us will be fucked.
“We can’t wait too long,” I say. “I forged a bunch of transfer orders, but they’ll realize soon enough that Rose isn’t where she’s supposed to be and that I’m the one who has signed off on all the orders.”
“Don’t they trust you?” Meiner asks.
“No,” I say, grinning. “Probably because I pull shit like this too often.”
“Meiner,” I say, after several long moments of silence. “You probably want to get out of here.”
“Are you kidding?” he says. “I want to see this thing work. I want to see her wake up—”
“If you leave now,” I say, “and I get caught, I’ll be able to deny you had any involvement.”
“And if it works?” he says.
I lean into him. “I care about my patient, not getting the credit. You’ll get all the credit you deserve. I’ll kiss you on the fucking lips, man, if she wakes—”
“That won’t be necessary!” he says.
“I’m kidding,” I say. “But seriously, get out of here before we both get burned.”
He packs up his things hastily, then hands me a small remote control.
“This activates the device,” he says. “Flip this switch, then hold the button down for thirty seconds.”
“How do I know if it works?” I ask.
“There will be a blue flash when the jumpstart has been activated,” he says.
“And if it doesn’t work—?”
“It will work,” he says.
“If it doesn’t,” I say. “How many times should I try?”