Sleeping with a Billionaire - Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story)

by Nella Tyler

  There were no airs that had to be put on. I could simply do my job and serve the community I had known my entire life. I wanted to help these people specifically because they were my friends and my family. To me, working at this local hospital opposed to going to a bigger, more nationally-recognizable hospital was more important. The intimacy of the care came naturally and for the most part, I knew these people, so I would know what was best for them.

  Or, at least I hoped I would.

  Walking out in my brand-new scrubs, I truly felt as though I was starting a new life. I walked into my bathroom and stared at my reflection for a moment, wondering if I looked as nervous and unsettled as I felt.

  I played with my still-wet, dark-red hair. I drew in a deep breath as I wrapped my hair up in a bun, a natural, almost muscle-memory action born out of necessity. Working in a hospital setting and going through medical school, I had learned it was always easier to keep my hair out of the way.

  While I wasn’t overly concerned about my appearance at work, I still wanted to make a good impression. I wanted to look professional, especially since I was green, fresh out of medical school.

  I was young, for being a doctor, but my thin frame and fair skin only made me look younger. My mother always told me that one day I would be thankful for such a blessing of youth, but now, with my profession, it was more off-putting.

  Yet, that was another reason why, more selfishly, I wanted to work in the town where I grew up. Not only did I know most the people who would walk in those emergency room doors on at least somewhat of a personal level, but they also knew me…and they knew how hard I had worked to get where I was today.

  Still, I wondered if making myself look older would help ease their tensions. After all, no matter how well you know someone, when there was an emergency, you likely wouldn’t want the freckled-face kid you used to coach softball to giving you a diagnosis. Therefore, in a moment of doubt, I pulled open the drawer where I kept my glasses. They were thick and bulky, old as the hills and had seen far more insults than glances of appreciation.

  Although now that I had grown up, my freckles had lightened to a sprinkling and my face had thinned, the large telescopes that I had worn throughout high school now added years to my demeanor.

  Thankfully, though, I snapped out of my doubt and decided to put my contacts in – the saving grace for my sanity.

  It only took me a moment before I was blinking back artificial tears and staring at my clear reflection. My green eyes shimmered with the spark of moisture that I had applied and my dark eyelashes instantly looked thicker. I grinned, exposing white teeth that were free of the braces that had plagued my adolescence, but had created a beaming grin for my adulthood.

  Now that I could see, I applied a small amount of makeup, fixed my hair to the small degree that fixing was needed, and headed into the kitchen.

  As I walked through my house, I felt the warmth of being home. This was my house. I lived and maintained it by myself. It wasn’t anything lavish. It was a two-bedroom, one-bathroom ranch, with linoleum floors, cheap carpet, and pressboard cabinets, but it was all mine and I loved it.

  All my life, my family had made do with what the good Lord gave us, which was always plenty. We weren’t rich, by any means, but we were always happy and wanting to become a doctor hadn’t changed that.

  Sure, I figured that eventually I would be able to afford a nice home and furnishings that my parents would still think was a waste. It would be nice not to have to think about money, except the astronomical loans I had to repay, but that had nothing to do with my decision to become a doctor. The truth was, if I could work at the community hospital where I was starting my rotations and stay in this house forever, I would be perfectly content.

  Upon reaching the kitchen, about forty steps from the bathroom, I grabbed my cereal and a Tupperware bowl. After fixing my breakfast, I grabbed the remote control off the edge of the counter and turned the television on while I made my coffee.

  Feeling like a kid again, I sat down on the couch with my breakfast and watched a half-hour sitcom to interject a little humor into my morning. During that time, it helped to calm my nerves, but unfortunately afterward, the jittery feeling in my stomach returned, making me wonder if milk and coffee were the best things to have eaten.

  Still, I was too excited to feel all that bad, so I grabbed my coat and headed out to my car, parked in a carport that my father had insisted I have since my little ranch didn’t come with a garage – something that he didn’t understand, at all.

  I didn’t see the use in it since the bitter cold still made me have to scrape off the ice and defrost it before going anywhere, but it made him happy that I had it. My father swore that it would keep my car safe from ice if there was a storm. I didn’t think the material would hold up well enough against a hailstorm to shelter my car, but that was all right.

  Even after taking my time, not wanting to show up too early and seem overly eager, I was still walking out of the elevator a half hour before my rotation was about to start. However, from the second the doors slid open and I saw how many nurses and doctors I already knew, was sure I would need every second of that time to actually get to work.

  “Well, now…Jenna Barnes! As I live and breathe. Is today your first day?” A nurse, about my age, was the first to greet me. Even before I could react in kind, she had wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into a hug.

  “Hi, Fran,” I giggled as she released me from the friendly embrace. “Yes, today is my first day.”

  “Oh, you’re going to be the best doctor in this whole dang hospital. I just know it!”

  “Hey!” a slightly older doctor teased as he came up behind Fran. “That’s not very nice.”

  “But you know it’s true. Jenna here has been playing doctor longer than most y’all have.”

  The doctor raised his eyebrows at Fran, and I wondered if there was something going on between them. They were extremely familiar, and I had heard rumors. People talked, but the way the two of them spoke to one another was only adding fuel to the fire.

  Fran narrowed her eyes at him and swatted his arm. “Boy, get your mind out of the gutter. You know what I mean.”

  I laughed and turned my attention to the doctor. “Dwight!” I exclaimed. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  “That’s because once you become a doctor,” he advised, lowering his voice and leaning in, “they don’t ever let you leave!”

  “Amen!” Fran interjected.

  Humored, I shook my head and excused myself to walk toward the area where I was supposed to report.

  “Hey, Shelly… Karen…” I beamed as I passed the nurse’s station. Shelly was an older woman, a fixture in the hospital ever since I could remember and hadn’t changed a bit since the first time I met her. Karen was newer to the nursing community in the hospital, but certainly nowhere near as fresh as I was.

  “Good morning, Jenna.” Karen flashed a grin before returning to her paperwork.

  “I saw that you were on the schedule this morning! I am so happy for you,” Shelly burst out, beaming from ear to ear as she moved around the nurse’s station to embrace me. After pushing me back so that she could look at me, she shook her head. “Good Lord, you certainly look the part. And, I know you’re going to do great!” Her eyes sparkled as she complimented me. “Your momma and daddy must be so proud.”

  “Yes. They are.”

  “Come with me!” Shelly exclaimed, as though she was as proud as my parents were that I had finally made it through med school and onto the next phase of my career. Grabbing me by the hand, she led me toward the break room where the smell of cheap, stale coffee smacked me in the face only a moment before entering. “I want to introduce you to the doctor you will be shadowing,” she informed me as I allowed her to lead me.

  When we entered the break room, the only other person there was one of the few people on staff that I didn’t know.

  He was an older man, with thinning gray hair n
eatly slicked back and a clean-shaven face and piercing, blue eyes. Under his lab coat, he wore dress pants, a collared shirt, and a tie. He looked to be in extremely good shape for his age and although I couldn’t get a read on him right away, I hoped this relationship was going to be a good one.

  Part of me had hoped to shadow a doctor that I knew, but there was another part of me that was glad that, in a sea of people who had watched me grow up, I had the opportunity to start fresh as a doctor, instead of Jenna Barnes, the geeky girl who finally grew into herself enough that people stopped saying, “At least she’s a sweet child, bless her heart,” and finally started whispering about how her daddy felt about her growing into her own.

  From personal experience, she knew her daddy was perfectly happy that his little girl was finally blossoming into the woman she had always wanted to be: ascetically, professionally, and personally.

  I wasn’t simply making conversation with Fran when I told her my parents were proud. They had never cared what I did, so long as I was happy, and they knew that everything about my life made me happy. Thus, they didn’t complain about me missing family functions to go to class, or even to have some time with friends. They understood, and I knew I how blessed I was to have such great folks.

  Still, as nervous as it made me to know I had to make a good first impression for the first time since I first started med school, I was grateful for the opportunity.

  “Dr. Pierce, this is Dr. Jenna Barnes. She’s going to be shadowing you?”

  “Yes!” Dr. Pierce beamed at Shelly as he stood up, but it took a moment for him to even glance in my direction. When he did, though, he stuck his hand out professionally and stared directly into my eyes. “Hello, Dr. Barnes. My name is Raymond Pierce. I’m surprised we’ve never met. I hear you’re something of a prodigy around here.”

  The man had a northern accent and spoke firmly, as though he was trying to assert his authority.

  I couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t trust me, but come to think about it, why should he? We had only met and the title of M.D. after my name was merely letters, achieved with a diploma, while his was likely already earned with decades of experience.

  I chuckled nervously, but shook his hand firmly. “No, Dr. Pierce. I’m only a student out of med school, hoping to learn all I can and do the best I can for my patients.”

  “Aren’t we all…” he answered as his hand fell to his side. I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I ignored the comment and continued with niceties.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “The pleasure is all mine,” he answered politely. “Shelly tells me that you aspire to work in this hospital?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “You can stop with the sir, please, and I would ask that you only refer to me as Dr. Pierce when we are in front of patients.” He paused and his tone softened as he added, “Call me Raymond, though. We are colleagues, after all. You are no longer in med school, this is the real deal, so I feel the least we can do is be familiar with one another.”

  “Thank you, Raymond,” I answered, not quite sure how to take this man. I got the feeling that he didn’t like me, but refused to believe that. “So, are you new to this hospital?”

  “Yes, I’ve only been here a few months,” he replied, as though he was tired of answering that question. His accent had given it away, but I didn’t mention that since I was certain he was also tired of hearing that comment.

  “Well, Jenna, I believe it is time for us to get to work.”

  “Sounds great!”

  He beamed, but I couldn’t help to think it was in a slightly condescending manner. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind as I followed him out, onto the emergency room floor.

  Our first patient was a man who had told Fran he thought he was having a heart attack. The man was in his fifties and seemed intensely concerned. He was complaining of chest pain and told Dr. Pierce that he couldn’t breathe.

  Throughout the whole ordeal, Dr. Pierce remained calm. “Sir, does your shoulder hurt?” he asked as he checked the man’s ankles. I could tell that they weren’t swollen, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t something wrong with his heart.

  “No.”

  Dr. Pierce instructed the man to try and remain calm while he inserted the stethoscope into his ears and pressed the end against the man’s chest. Through the man’s hurried breathing, the doctor focused on his heart before moving the stethoscope to the man’s back and listening again.

  “What are you doing? Doctor! Can’t you order somethin’? Get the paddles? Something? I’m dying!” the man exclaimed in a panic, wide-eyed and frightened.

  “Is there any history of heart problems in your family, Sir?” the doctor replied, seeming as though he wasn’t alarmed in the slightest.

  “Well, no,” the man insisted. “The ol’ tickers been fine my whole life, same with my family, but there’s always a first for everything, right?”

  “This is true,” he agreed calmly, but didn’t allow the man to speak before continuing to ask him questions as he examined his pupils and checked his pulse. “Did you make any big changes in your life? Did you move? Get a new job?”

  “No, but my daughter got married last week.” The man squinted and turned his head to the side as though to get across his obvious unspoken question of why that was relevant.

  “Ah…” The doctor’s eyebrows rose and he nodded. “Well, in that case, I guess I have two reasons to congratulate you. You need to listen to me,” he insisted, forcing the man to focus on his eyes through a hard stare.

  “You are not having a heart attack. You’re having a panic attack. I am going to give you some anti-anxiety medication that I want you to take as needed. It seems that the wedding took its toll and you’re finally letting yourself feel the enormity of it.” He grinned widely and clapped a hand on the other man’s shoulders. “Congratulations. You’re going to be fine. Are grandchildren on the way?”

  “I hope, someday soon,” the man answered, starting to calm down slightly, thinking less about the wedding and more about his family.

  “Well, good. I’m going to order an EKG, to be on the safe side, but I can guarantee your issue is simply with anxiety. I want to prescribe some rest and relaxation and these anti-anxiety pills so that you can start enjoying the extension of your family and have many happy years to come.”

  Hearing the calm assurance from the doctor seemed to put the man at ease. After a moment, he nodded and finally grinned. “Thank you, Doc.”

  “My pleasure. I’ll tell the nurse to set you up for an EKG, and you can go right upstairs. It shouldn’t take more than an hour or so to get you on your way.”

  I observed all of this, saying nothing. I simply watched and listened, taking everything in.

  By the time the man was back on his feet, confidently walking up to the hospital cardiologist, I decided that regardless of what Dr. Pierce thought of me, I liked him. He was professional, straight to the point, and confident.

  Confidence in my diagnosis, especially in a situation like that, was something I knew I needed to work on, but I had a feeling that Dr. Pierce would be a great mentor.

  “That was great!” I said as we walked back out onto the floor, not meaning to sound as astounded as I did.

  “It was simple.” Dr. Pierce answered, almost as a retort. “Men that age and some even younger will feel anxiety coming on and they think they’re having a heart attack, so that only makes their anxiety worse. In some patients, if left to their own devices, it might actually result in a heart attack, but that was unlikely with that patient. He seemed to be in fair health and had no obvious signs of any real danger.”

  “Still, I was impressed,” I answered, trying to be nice, but feeling slightly put off by his brisk arrogance.

  “Give it time and if you're going to be half as good a doctor as the staff already thinks you are, you’ll be better than I am at that kind of thing,” he answered in the same strange tone. I wasn’t sure
if he was trying to compliment me or not, but didn’t have much time to deliberate before Dr. Pierce yanked back the curtain to another emergency room stall, halting all conversation.

  This man was elderly and had a cough that was obvious from the rattle of his breathing. Without saying a word, I could tell that he was a heavy smoker from the scent emitting from his clothing and the permanent yellowing of his fingertips.

  “How are you feeling today?” Dr. Pierce asked the man, prompting him to wheeze and cough before giving an answer.

  “Horrible, but I’ll be fine. Damn smokes. I’ve been like this for twenty years. My son’s an overprotective prick,” the elder gentleman responded.

  To my surprise, Dr. Pierce turned toward me. My heart sank with sudden, overwhelming fear as I realized he was going to address me. “Dr. Barnes, what do you make of this?”

  I had to refrain from voicing my shock. Instead, I swallowed my array of comments and moved closer to the patient.

  “Hello, Mr. Flanagan. My name is Dr. Jenna Barnes.”

  “I know who you are, Jenna.” I chuckled at his smirk, knowing that this was going to be interesting.

  I hadn’t seen Mr. Flanagan in years and thought that he wouldn’t recognize me, partially because it had taken me a minute to recognize him. He looked older and seemed worse than ever. He was known for being stubborn and the fact that he was sitting in this hospital bed was a testament that his son had inherited that trait. “I’m sure there’s nothing wrong. But, if you want to practice on me, that’s fine.” He tried to laugh, but was overcome by a coughing fit.

  “Please, try to relax, Mr. Flanagan,” I said calmly and checked his lungs. As I suspected, he was suffering from bronchitis. “How long have you felt like this?”

  “Twenty years.”

  I grinned. “All right, how long has Billy been telling you to go to the doctor?”

  “About a week.”

  Sometimes you only needed to know how to ask. “How is Billy doing?” I asked, checking the elder man’s glands.