Curing Doctor Vincent (The Good Doctor Trilogy Book 1)

by Mason, Renea

  Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, anxiety hit. What did I forget to pack? Did I pack enough underwear? And what was so important that I had to leave tonight? Sixteen hours later, after security, customs, and a delayed flight, the plane touched down in Paris.

  After traversing the airport for a solid twenty minutes, I spotted a gentleman with salt and pepper hair dressed in a black uniform holding up a sign with ‘Elaine Watkins’ written in shaky script. I moved to stand in front of him.

  “Elaine?” The thick French accent blended the two syllables of my name as though they were silk and satin. Such a beautiful language.

  I nodded and he grabbed my bags.

  His long legs made his stride swift, and I struggled to keep up. We stepped outside of baggage claim in front of a black stretch limo. He opened the door for me.

  As my bottom slid across the smooth leather seat, I looked up into the older man’s hazel eyes. “Where are we going?”

  “Pardon, mademoiselle. Je ne parle pas anglais,” he said with a shake of his head, shrug of his shoulders and his hands spread.

  I smiled. “Wonderful.”

  I prayed the ride would be short, but no such luck. As the scenery passed by and we navigated the narrow streets, the dancing lights of the city were a great distraction. Soon the city gave way to scenic French countryside; small farms with stone barns dotted the hills.

  After more than an hour of driving, the sun had set, and in a faint glow of moonlight, we arrived at a large security gate. The driver pushed a button, muttered something in French and the gate opened. Another half-mile down a winding narrow road, a large structure emerged from the darkness.

  The driver parked the car in front of a large, gothic, stone mansion. Beautiful gray stonework formed an elegant archway leading to iron and stained glass doors. Light from inside the building made the cut roses and ivy shimmer. The breathtaking architecture emanated history and wealth.

  After opening my door, he waved me toward the stoop. I took his cue. He placed my bags on the walk beside me and returned to the car. I raised my fist to knock, but the door opened before I could. Dr. Vincent welcomed me instead of a butler. I never expected to see him outside of a work event. His casual, yet expensive-looking, shirt and jeans made him look so approachable. Why was he here? A better question…why was I?

  “Good evening, Elaine.” He reached down, took my hand and kissed the back of it.

  “Ah… Good evening…Dr. Vincent.” I managed to smile through the nerves. This was very different than seeing him in his professional environment.

  His furrowed brow drove away his welcoming expression. “Something wrong?”

  I glanced around, taking in the hand cut stones that framed the threshold. The place must have cost a fortune. Pushing away my disconcertion, I replied, “No, nothing is wrong, Doctor.”

  He reached for my bags, but my hands beat him to the handles. This was the great Dr. Vincent. There was no way he was taking my bags.

  He paused. “Elaine, may I take your baggage?”

  “I’m OK. I’ll just keep them with me until I leave for the hotel.”

  “Did you honestly think I would have you come all this way to sleep in a hotel? You are my guest and will stay here. Unless of course it’s not to your—”

  “No. No. It’s perfect.” But certainly unexpected.

  He reached for my bags again and this time I released my grip and allowed him to take them. He smiled and nodded his approval. “I will only be a moment.” He led us into the foyer.

  As he walked away, I wound my arms around my chest and gazed up to see the massive cathedral ceiling decorated with shadows cast by the crystal chandelier. I took a deep breath, clenched and unclenched my hands. Not only was I standing in pure opulence, I was the guest of the gorgeous man who’d saved my sister’s life. Much more than a celebrity, he was a saint.

  It didn’t take long before he appeared in the archway to the foyer.

  He walked behind me, grabbed the shoulders of my coat and coaxed it down my arms. He spoke in soft tones, so close to my ear I felt his breath.

  “Thank you for traveling all this way.” The scent of spicy cologne soothed me—utter masculinity. Too wrapped up in my work and my father’s nonsense, it had been years since I had been this close to a man. I couldn’t afford to feel such things for the good doctor. Not only were there professional boundaries, but he was married.

  “If I hadn’t made the trip, I would have never had the chance to see your magnificent home.”

  He smoothed my sleeves, his hands pausing for a moment on my biceps. He then stepped in front of me, draped my coat over his arm and motioned me forward. We made our way into the mahogany paneled great room.

  “Well, thank you, but this is all my wife’s doing. I have much simpler tastes.”

  The large room, with a roaring fire in the oversized stone hearth, was accented by a burgundy and cream color palette reminiscent of royalty. “Please, have a seat.” He gestured to a large velvet brocade chair. He waited as I scooted back in the chair and straightened my skirt. “Do you prefer red or white?”

  “Excuse me?” I was such a bundle of nerves. What the hell was I doing here? The situation was surreal.

  “Wine, my dear. Do you prefer red or white? Or maybe I’ve read you wrong and you’d like something a little stronger.” He smiled.

  This was going to be the longest week of my life. I wasn’t the nervous type, but the doctor evoked strange responses from me. “Red, please.”

  He winked. “That’s what I thought.” With my coat in hand, he headed back into the foyer.

  The warmth of the fire felt wonderful, almost too soothing, as jet lag and exhaustion overcame me. It wouldn’t look good if I fell asleep. The wine was not a good idea, but how could I refuse? The last time I tried to refuse him, I failed.

  Moments later he returned with two glasses and handed one to me. “Here, my dear.” He made sure I had a firm grasp before releasing the glass. “Romanée Conti.”

  “I’m sorry…?”

  “Romanée Conti is one of the finest pinot noirs in all of France.”

  “I don’t know my French wines, sorry.” I took a sip and allowed the flavor to coat my lower lip and tongue. Delicious.

  He watched me, eyes fixated on my mouth.

  “It’s wonderful.” I licked my lip, not allowing any to go un-savored.

  “I’m glad you approve. My wife was the connoisseur.” He fiddled with the ring on his left ring finger.

  “Is she going to join us?”

  He took a seat in the chair opposite me, sighed and crossed his legs. He looked deep into his glass of wine, running his finger around the rim. “No. I’m sorry. She passed away a few years ago.”

  “I am so sorry.” Nice way to stick my foot in my mouth.

  “Everything you see here, including who I am, is all her doing.”

  Now he really had my attention. I sat forward in the chair, dangling my wine over the arm.

  “What happened?” Ever since I uncovered my father’s treachery, my curiosity and suspicion often times compelled me to ask more questions than were socially appropriate. A pained look crossed his face. “If you don’t mind me asking? I don’t want to bring up old memories.”

  He exhaled a long breath and leaned back in his chair. “No, it’s OK.” He paused. “It was the cancer. I wasn’t able to save her in time, but her death fueled my focus. I hunted the horrid disease until it could no longer hide.”

  “Again, I’m so sorry about…”

  “Lydia.”

  “Yes…Lydia. I can’t thank you enough for what you did for my sister and my family. Her death was not in vain.” Guilt hit. I’d benefited from her death.

  “That’s what keeps me going.” His face brightened for a moment. “I’m close to isolating another.”

  “Fantastic news. Is that why I’m here? Are you preparing to go to market?”

  He looked down at his hands. “Not exactly. You are n
ot here on business. I probably should have explained sooner.”

  Now that was news. I sat up straight. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “I suspect not. It’s not the kind of thing one can place in a letter. But the moment I saw you in Kansas City…”

  Kansas City? Oh no. I had almost forgotten he’d said he had been there. That moment in time where everything I had worked for left to join my childhood. “Doctor, my behavior in Kansas City was inappropriate. My apologies, but I don’t think I understand.”

  He smiled. “No need to apologize. After your speech, I had to get to know you. I need you.”

  I laughed and looked down, trying to hide my schoolgirl blush. The great Dr. Vincent needed me? There were many ways I’d love for him to need me. Surely, I wasn’t in Paris to walk his cat? I toyed with a button on my suit jacket and cleared my throat. “What can I do for you?”

  “Do you know what my wife did for a living?”

  “No. There isn’t much written about you, or her from a personal perspective. I didn’t even know she had passed.”

  He smiled. “Did your homework, did you, Ms. Watkins?”

  The playful tone in his voice was welcome, given the heaviness of the conversation. “I tried, but you don’t give up much.”

  “You’re right. Before I started doing cancer research, I was a successful, practicing neuropsychiatrist. Understanding how behavior and brain function relate is the key to solving many debilitating psychiatric illnesses. But when working so closely with patients, keeping one’s private life concealed is essential. Some patients can make unhealthy connections because, to understand why they do what they do, you must know their secrets.”

  “I can imagine. Was it a hard jump from private practice to research?”

  “Yes. I miss the patient interaction. The way the human mind works fascinates me. Did you know people wear their ethics on their sleeves? Most don’t look for it, but I can tell when someone is trustworthy.”

  If only I’d had that skill, lives might have been saved.

  He took a sip of wine and the slightest bit dripped onto his chin. He lifted it with his finger, placed the droplet on his tongue and sucked his finger into his mouth. “You are trustworthy.”

  I pretended not to notice, but warmth ignited between my legs. The man was sex in a suit—sensual without even meaning to be. Knowing he wasn’t married somehow opened a world of possibilities I’d never considered.

  He leaned forward, directing his full attention at my rosy cheeks.

  His words finally pulled me from my daydream. “Huh? Oh… Really?”

  “Yes. Why do you think there is so little written about me? It isn’t that people don’t know my secrets. It’s because I only impart them to those who would never betray me.”

  “You’ll have to teach me that trick. It might have saved me a lot of heartache.” I turned my focus to the crackling fire in the hearth.

  He laughed. “Ah… Matters of the heart are tricky. I find it best to avoid them. But don’t be hard on yourself. The closer you are to someone the less perceptive we become. Perhaps you’ll leave here knowing a little more about yourself than you did when you got here.”

  I met his gaze. “I’m learning already.”

  “Good. Are you tired? It was a long flight.” He reached down into the side of the chair and pulled out a folder previously obscured by the cushions and sat it on his lap.

  “I am, but there’s no way I can sleep until you tell me why I’m here?”

  “Curious? Are you looking to open Pandora’s box? You know, not every box is filled with disaster. Some contain the world’s greatest treasures.” He smiled.

  Even though I knew the box could have come from no one other than him, his words were a subtle confirmation. “So it was you? The box, I mean.”

  He lifted the wine to his lips. “Yes.” He sipped. “You needed a place to rest your demons. We all have them, but if we lock them away, we can keep them from draining our pleasures.” He set his glass on the table beside him, leaned forward and handed me the folder. “Speaking of pleasures… Please wait to open it until I tell you.”

  “OK.” I reached out, took the folder and laid it in my lap.

  “I met my wife when I was in med. school. She was my instructor specializing in sexuality—specifically, sexual dysfunction. She moved to America to study the role of inhibition in American culture.”

  “Sounds interesting, but if she was an instructor and you were a student…”

  He took a deep breath. “Yes. You are beginning to see. When it came to sex my wife loved to blur lines and defy social norms.” He cleared his throat. “I became a challenge. Abuse in early childhood lead to my adoption by a very loving and supportive family, but it left its mark. We married after my graduation.” He stood, picked up his wine glass and walked to the fireplace. He stared into the flames and continued, “Our marriage was not…conventional. My wife’s desire to push boundaries and my hang-ups from childhood lead to a unique arrangement.”

  This was not the conversation I expected. “Doctor, you don’t need to tell me all of this. It’s personal…”

  “Ah, but it’s essential.” He took a sip of wine.

  Where in the hell was this going? I shifted in my seat.

  “It took years of coaching until I was comfortable orgasming in front of another human being.”

  The gulp of wine I’d taken to speed through the conversation caught in my throat. I began to cough. Whoa. When the good doctor decided to share, he really shared. Why on earth did I need to know this?

  “Are you all right, Elaine?”

  One last sputter. “Yes. Sorry. Go on.” I smiled, hoping to mask my distress.

  “Lydia was fascinated by me, but our relationship took a turn when we fell in love. Unfortunately, we never made love in the conventional sense. We compromised. It was her understanding and love for me that helped us. She had sex with others while I watched and directed. Her needs for physical connection were fulfilled and by calling the shots, I was able to be a participant. It gave me a sense of control, and eventually, I learned enough to let go somewhat.”

  I grasped the folder in my lap tighter and sat up. Why was he telling me this? “I’m so sorry,” was all I could think to say.

  “Nothing to be sorry about, we had a wonderful, fulfilling marriage. When one engages in the abnormal long enough, it becomes normal. I loved her with all my heart and have no doubt she loved me. It was our intimacy.”

  I crossed my legs and placed the folder beside me, hoping to fake comfort during the strange conversation. “It’s good that you found each other, sounds like she was an amazing woman.”

  He returned to the chair, placed the glass on the side table and sat. “It’s been a long time since her death, and even longer since I’ve known companionship. I won’t give up my job for a relationship. How could I explain all of this?”

  I tried to address him with the same clinical tone he used. “You don’t seem to have a problem telling me.”

  “Only because I’ve been rehearsing this conversation in my head for two years. Do you remember the presentation you gave at the convention in Kansas City?”

  I shifted and re-crossed my legs and gripped the arms of the chair. I hid my confusion over his change of subject, and answered with a simple, “Yes.”

  “I knew then, if I was to try this crazy idea, it had to be with you. I told myself in Kansas City, if our paths ever crossed again, it would be my sign. Speaking with you in the meeting last week, steeled my resolve.”

  “You don’t seem one to bank on fate. Wait… What crazy idea? I’m still not quite sure what you are asking.”

  “Open the folder.” He gestured toward it.

  I opened the cover. A photo of the most beautiful nude man filled the page. He was perfection. The side angle of the photo hid nothing—his firm muscles in his tight, rounded ass, and his massive erect cock were exposed to my eyes. His dark hair hung in waves to his
shoulders, featuring the sharp angle of his jaw and straight nose. My mouth ran dry.

  “That’s Marco. Exquisite isn’t he? He’s as smart as he is handsome and he is a dear friend.” He laced his fingers together and leaned forward to gaze upon the picture. “Turn the page. Sebastian.”

  The man on the next page matched the first man’s beauty. His short, cropped blond hair framed defined Scandinavian features, and his tall build was toned and unblemished.

  “Doctor, what are you asking?”

  “I’m asking you to surrender to five days of passion. To discover physical delights you’ve never known and will never know again.”

  I stared at the doctor, at the photos, then back again.

  He pointed to the page. “I want to watch those two men ravish you under my direction.”

  It had to be a joke or one of those “gotcha” reality TV shows. He couldn’t possibly be serious. “I’m not a prostitute!” I stood, readying to leave.

  “Of course you’re not.” He stood and grabbed my hand. “I didn’t mean to imply that you are. You’ll notice I’ve made you no promises. There isn’t a promotion or prize for doing this. I’m simply hoping you’ll choose to indulge me. There is something about you, Elaine. I would work to seduce you, if I was capable of it, but this is what I have to offer.”

  I pulled my hand out of his. “This is crazy! You want me to sleep with these men so you can get off watching.”

  “No. I want to tell these men how to touch your body so that I can bring you pleasure. It will be me making love to you. I chose them to make the experience as stimulating as possible. Understand, in all of this, it’s me who is in charge; it’s me you’ll be intimate with. Those two men will be an extra set of lips, an additional tongue, another cock at my disposal to make you writhe.”