The Surgeon’s Secrets: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Michelle Love

“Excuse me,” she choked out and stumbled, half-blind with tears to the restroom. She locked herself in a stall and silently sobbed. It was the first time she’d seen this side of Isaac – brooding, angry. Someone knocked at the stall door. “You okay, miss?”

  Sarah gulped back. “I’m fine.” Her voice sounded strangled.

  “Okay.” The voice didn’t sound convinced. “Are you Sarah? Your boyfriend asked me to come see if you were okay. He asked me to tell you he’s sorry and he loves you.”

  Sarah drew in a shaky breath. “Thank you, please tell him I’ll be out in a minute. Thanks again.”

  The voice was warm. “You’re welcome, sweetie.”

  Sarah calmed herself down and unlocked the stall door. At the sink, she splashed some water on her face. There was a middle-aged woman with blonde hair waiting outside the door who smiled kindly at her.

  “Sorry, honey, looks like he left.”

  Sarah felt a sharp jolt of pain and stepped into the main restaurant. She relaxed immediately. Isaac was seated at the table; he looked up and smiled, worry creasing his face. She turned to the woman.

  “No, it’s okay, he’s there.”

  The woman looked at Isaac and shook her head. “No, sweetheart… that’s not the guy who gave me the message. The guy I spoke to was blonde…”

  “About six foot, blonde curly hair, blue eyes?” Sarah’s voice was flat, dead. The woman nodded, obviously worried now but Sarah simply moved away and went back to a waiting Isaac.

  “I want to get out of here. Now.”

  Outside, she stalked in front of him, wanting to get away from the restaurant. He gripped her arm and stopped her. What? What’s wrong?”

  She whirled on him. “Oh, now you want to talk? Had enough of giving me the silent treatment?”

  Isaac’s shoulder slumped and she could see the shame in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I was…I was upset about something. God… you only said it in your sleep, it could mean anything but…”

  “What was it?” Her voice was hard.

  “It sounds so ridiculous when I think about it now…but you said “Dan” in your sleep. It upset me, I know, I know, it’s stupid but after everything that’s happened…what? What is it?”

  Sarah suddenly started to laugh but there was no humor in the sound. “Believe me. If I said Dan’s name in my sleep, it would be because I was having a nightmare. And if that woman in there is to be believed, a nightmare that’s about to come true.”

  Isaac shook his head, confused. “I don’t get it.”

  She told him about the message. He stared at her. “She must have got the wrong Sarah.”

  Sarah’s body sagged. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” But when she looked up, she saw the same uncertainty in his eyes that she felt in her bones.

  Neither of them spoke on the way home.

  “Okay, I have to ask,” Isaac said finally, after a long evening where they had both stared at the television without seeing or absorbing anything that was on it. They were on his couch but, for the first time, there was space between them – physical and psychological. Isaac felt it keenly. “If Dan is back…what does it mean for us?”

  Sarah looked up, startled and her eyes softened when she saw the hurt in his eyes. “Isaac… you are the love, the absolute, irrevocable love of my life. If Dan does come back. Well, that part of my life is over. As far as I’m concerned, you are my future.”

  Isaac visibly relaxed. “That’s all I needed to hear. God,” he lay down and put his head in her lap. She smiled down at him, smoothing his short hair with her hand. “What a wild ride we’ve had.”

  Sarah grinned. “Because your life was so boring before.” She looked pointedly around the apartment; high ceilings, perfectly decorated, priceless art on the walls. Isaac laughed and sat up.

  “They’re just things.” He stroked her cheek. “This is what’s real. I’m not saying I’m not a lucky s.o.b. because clearly, I am.”

  “Well, you worked hard for it, and your talent is in being a huge nerd boy. Geekdom is very lucrative,” Sarah was grinning at him. “Everything I’m good at isn’t unless you get very lucky. Not that I’m complaining. You’re right, things are just things.”

  “Hey now, come on, you have your own business, that’s a big thing.” He grinned at her.

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “What I’m saying is, I may never be on an equal financial footing with you but that kind of thing doesn’t matter to me if it doesn’t to you. I don’t want diamonds and pearls and fur coats – not that I’d wear them. All I want from you is your time. I can match you on that.”

  Isaac nodded thoughtfully. “I get it. Can I ask one favor?”

  “Go for it.”

  Isaac gestured around the room. “Look, I can’t pretend I’m not disgustingly rich but I hate flaunting it. You know me by now, I’d still do the same job if it paid peanuts. But let’s be real: I do have a lot of money and just occasionally I’d like to spoil you… no, listen –,” he said hurriedly, seeing the doubtful expression on her face. “I don’t mean with material things. Maybe I could spring for a luxury vacation, maybe I could replace your truck when it finally falls apart – as a present. But more, I’m thinking… our kids could go to college without worrying about debt; you could go back to school if you wanted. We could build schools, or help the community on the island.”

  Sarah tangled her fingers in his hair. “Haven’t we already discussed that you being perfect is really irritating?” But she grinned. “Building schools – now that kind of spending spree I can get on board with.” She leaned over and kissed him. “Also, a sex dungeon would be nice.”

  Isaac laughed loudly. “You wouldn’t need to ask me twice on that.”

  “You like a bit of kink?”

  He shrugged. “Who doesn’t?”

  She crawled onto his lap. “Well, Mr. Quinn, I’ll try anything once and if I like it, more than once.”

  He trailed his fingers across her cheeks. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  Hank’s Bar was full with the Sunday night football crowd. Finn and Mike sat at a corner booth. Hank, an ex-city cop and the owner of both the bar and an oversized mustache that made him look like a walrus, had offered them a free beer and busted their chops for a time before turning his attention to the game. The 49ers were getting a mauling from the Seahawks and the bar was raucous with their support. Finn and Mike stared at the screen blankly for twenty minutes until an ad break afforded them the quiet to talk.

  “So,” Mike took slug of beer “What’s going on with you and Caroline?” He cleared his throat, embarrassed.

  Finn grinned at Mike’s expression. “Dude, relax. That’s not the advice I wanted.”

  Mike look relieved. “What then?”

  “Dan Bailey. Molly says she saw him, I’m not convinced.”

  “Okay. So?”

  Finn shifted in his chair. “I checked him out. And came up with nothing.”

  Mike waited. Finn held his hands out.

  “Don’t you think that’s weird? No tickets, no medical records, nothing?”

  Mike shrugged. “Man…I don’t know. Maybe he had a reason to stay under the radar. If you’ve got a gut feeling, do a little digging. Where did he come from?”

  “New Orleans. So he said.”

  “Well, there must be someone down there who knew him.”

  Finn shrugged. Mike rolled his eyes. “Have you talked to the NOLA police department?”

  “No.”

  “Is that because you’re worried you might find something out – or that you’re worried you won’t?”

  Finn sighed. “I honestly couldn’t tell you.”

  Mike finished his soda. “Dude, just talk to somebody. Get this, whatever it is, out of your head and move on. At the end of the day, does it matter? Dan Bailey’s long gone. C’mon, bro, I hate leaving Mols alone at night, especially now.”

  She had been away from the island for days and now, at last, sh
e was back. He watched her get out of Quinn’s car and go into the Varsity, saw Molly exclaim in delight and wrap her arms around her friend.

  Sarah looked beautiful, her dark hair pulled up into a messy bun at the nape of her neck, her glorious body in her usual uniform of jeans and tee. Quinn had parked the car across the street and was now walking over to the coffee house. He studied the tall man, the man who was fucking his Sarah, had that honey skin under his touch, and had her lips around his cock. He could see the attraction; Isaac Quinn was an imposing man, athletic, smart and rich beyond belief. The thought of him all over Sarah’s body made his blood heat to boiling point and he clenched his fists, trying to keep control.

  He was still staring out of the window at them when Caroline arrived. Following his gaze, she made a disgusted sound.

  “Christ. That dude can’t keep away from that whore, can he?”

  He turned to her and the expression on his face made her blood freeze. He walked away from the window, lit a cigarette and sat down. She followed him and tried to smile.

  “Did you want something, Caroline?”

  Her posture became seductive. “Only what I always want from you, baby.”

  His nose turned up in a sneer. “And you call Sarah a whore?”

  Caroline flinched but smoothed out her expression and smiled at him. “I just want to make you happy. Baby, you want me to make you feel better?”

  He shook his head and she sat down on the bed opposite him. When he had not said anything for a few minutes, she shifted uneasily.

  “Look – “

  He focused on her for the first time. “Caroline, if you could have anything you wanted, what would it be?”

  She thought about it. “You.”

  He smirked. “Apart from that.”

  She thought about it and her face settled into a grim smile. “I want her gone. For good. Not just someplace else, I want her – “

  “Dead.”

  Caroline nodded. “In the most painful way you could imagine. Worse than George.”

  She got up and walked over to the window. “I wish I had the nerve to do it myself. I should have just put a bullet in her years ago.”

  He smirked. “Caroline, I doubt you would even know how to take the safety off.”

  She turned to scowl at him. “There are other ways. I could have poisoned her, stuck some acid in one of her fucking cupcakes. Snuck up on her when she was swimming, drowned her.” She laughed to herself. “Is that you were going to do that day? The day you watched her swim then killed her dog?”

  He smiled bleakly. “No. I just wanted to watch her.”

  Caroline stared at him in disgust. “You still want her?”

  He got up then and went to her. “I want her dead as much as you do, Caroline. But I want to make her life a misery first, watch her suffer. You can understand that, right? Sarah Bailey will be slaughtered, eviscerated and she will feel every moment of unimaginable agony before she succumbs.”

  He got up and headed towards the bedroom. When she didn’t follow him, he turned to her. She looked at him, wary, nervous. He moved over and put his arms around her.

  “Are you frightened of me, Caroline?”

  She nodded with tears in her eyes.

  “You have no reason to be.” He smiled and kissed her, felt her relax.

  “Okay, now?”

  She nodded and he kissed her, sliding a hand over her belly. “And then there’s this… our child... Caroline…”

  She pulled him down onto the bed with her, kissing him deeply. This was what she had always wanted, real love, a man whose mind matched her own. She had loved him since the first moment she had seen him… and yes, she had disappointed him over the years but now, no more. He would kill that bitch Sarah and then he would finally be free of the obsession.

  Sarah was already missing Isaac. He’d insisted on taking her back to the island himself before returning to the city, and to work. The coffee house had been busy, so busy she hadn’t yet had a chance to talk to Molly. She’d noticed her friend was subdued and, more concerning, was the faint and fading pattern of bruising on her cheek.

  She finally got a chance to corral Molly into the kitchen to take a break when Nancy, the part-time barista came to work just after four. Molly protested but Sarah, having already spoken to Nancy, threw her a grateful glance and scooted Molly out of the door before she could protest. Sarah took them around the side of the old movie theater, where they kept several benches, deck chairs, mostly for the smokers. The afternoon was cool, and there was only one man out there now, a regular, reading a book, chewing on a cheroot. He raised the book, a salute, a greeting and Sarah saw he was reading Catch-22. Sarah and Molly chatted with him for a few minutes before grabbing their own table.

  Having settled, Nancy brought them hamburgers, fries and two Cokes. They sipped their sodas for a few minute in silence before Sarah nodded at her friend.

  “So, you going to tell me what’s wrong with you or not? I know there’s something. I saw the bruises, Mols…what’s going on?” Please don’t be Mike, she thought to herself, please, not that.

  Molly sighed, running her hand through her hair. “It was really nothing. Someone broke into the Varsity while you were away and…”

  “What the fuck?” Sarah’s head shot up and she stared at her friend. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

  Molly sighed. “Finn and Isaac said not to, that it was too soon after George and…”

  “Isaac knew?” Sarah’s voice rose in disbelief. Angry now, she tugged out her cell phone from her jeans pocket and dialed. Molly held up a hand.

  “No, wait, stop – “

  “Isaac? Call me back. We need to talk.” Sarah didn’t hide her irritation. Molly shook her head.

  “It’s not his fault, really. Damn it, I shouldn’t have said anything,” she fretted, “It’s just with the Dan thing, they thought I was making too much of it and – “

  “What “Dan” thing”?” interrupted Sarah, feeling the blood drain from her face, and her heart began to thump uncomfortably against her ribs.

  Molly looked upset. “A few weeks ago, I could have sworn I saw him. It was just for a second, and it was dark but… and then, the other night, in the Varsity, I went to shut a window we’d left open – or so I thought. Someone was inside and attacked me. I don’t know, Sarah, more than likely it was a petty crook taking a chance, looking to steal from the register. But, there was a moment, I can’t describe it, a feeling. The guy’s build, the way he moved…he smelled of – “

  “Pine soap,” said Sarah in a flat voice. She bent at the waist, trying to quell the panic, nausea that was rising in her throat. Dan was back. A million thoughts flood through her mind; why was he back? What did he want? And why hadn’t he just approached her instead of playing games?

  “Are you okay?” Molly’s voice was small and Sarah shook her head.

  “No. I think I’ve seen him too. God, why now?”

  Molly looked at her friend with sympathy. “Maybe he knows about Isaac? I just don’t know. What are you going to do?”

  “For now, go home, call Isaac and have a discussion with him on what he tells me and what he doesn’t. Then, nothing. If Dan comes back, I’ll hear him out if he wants to explain himself but that’s as far it goes. I don’t want him in my life.”

  Molly was quiet for a time then said softly. “What if Dan sees things differently? What if he wants you back?”

  Sarah looked at her friend evenly. “I’m in love with Isaac. He is my future, Dan is my past. He lost the right to want me when he left without explanation. Molly, I’m going to say this once to you. Dan Bailey is not the guy I married – and I’m not sure he ever was.”

  A mile from home still, she heard only the spatter of rain against the tree canopy, its beat rhythmic and soothing. Sarah had begun to regret the decision to walk home after her shift at the coffee house. The rain had permeated her clothes, her hair, and was now dripping unpleasantly down the bac
k of her neck. The lichen of the forest floor was slippery, the spike moss that hung from the maples and Sitka spruces were drenched and heavy.

  Since her conversation with Molly, her mind had been a whirlwind of emotion. Sadness, trepidation…fear. Why was she afraid? That’s what she didn’t get, why the hell she was so afraid of Dan coming back. It wasn’t that she doubted herself, her love for Isaac – it was the nagging feeling that Dan meant her harm. No suspects had been found in George’s murder and no motive. Sarah herself was the recipient of George’s will so if anyone was suspect – and she’d gone through hours of questioning despite Isaac giving her all the alibi she needed. She hadn’t wanted to know about the will and the lawyer had graciously acquiesced to her request to postpone the reading of George’s will. He had no other family and she didn’t want that finality of his death confirmed because of any money or land or whatever. She didn’t want his money and she would give anything just to have him back in her life.

  The trail led through the old trailer park and Sarah kept to its well-worn path. The mobile home her mom used to own was over to the left side, a shell now, burned out, no longer anything to gawp at for curious eyes. Sarah looked at it as she always had – out of the corner of her eye. She reasoned that counted. She’d only been to it once; with George on his urging. You need closure. She’d needed a paper bag. The panic attack that followed scared even the unflappable George. He hadn’t encouraged any further excursions. Since his death though, she wanted to try, wanted to at least try, for him.

  She gave the skeleton of the trailer a wide berth and sped up, eager to get home now. She scooted past the trailer belonging to the island’s shipwright, Buddy Harte, a sour-faced misanthrope who hated everyone – especially people of color. Sarah despised the old man and avoided him but they’d often come to words when Sarah had seen him abusing people in the town square.