Seduction (The Secret Billionaire Asher Christmas Duet Book 1)

by Z. L. Arkadie

  Our eyes met. At first, his glance was fleeting, but then he did a double take. I was breathless as his eyes roamed my face. My cheeks felt hot, and I nervously shifted my bag from one shoulder to the other. Why is he watching me that way? I waited for his gaze to release me, but the closer I got, the tighter it held me. I couldn’t look away from him either.

  As I closed the gap between us, his looks took my breath away. He was unusually handsome. I wasn’t well versed in male celebrities since I barely had time to watch TV and couldn’t remember the last time I'd seen a movie, but I was certain that if he were an actor, his pale-blue eyes and sharp features would’ve made him a sex symbol.

  Then I finished walking up the three steps that led to the entrance.

  “Hi,” I said past my tight throat.

  My nervousness made my fingers jerky as I punched in my code. The guy still hadn’t responded, although he had finally taken his eyes off me. He took another draw on his cigarette then smashed it out on a nearby planter.

  The lock buzzed. He still hadn’t replied to my greeting, and I wished I could take it back.

  “What an ass,” I muttered as I opened the door, determined to avoid the opposite sex forever or perhaps at least until men became better at being nicer and not picking my friends to fuck.

  “Hello,” he said faintly just before I closed the door behind me.

  Chapter Two

  Penina Ross

  My apartment was cute. It had red brick walls, light hardwood floors, and an island in the kitchen with a wood block top, which would’ve been great for cooking if I’d had the time for it. My office was a little alcove that was adjoined to my living room. It had a view of the building right behind mine and the small courtyard between us. It also had a modern bathroom with no tub, only a shower, and my bedroom had the same view the alcove had. The common area never got loud since most of us worked at the hospital and knew how precious silence was. The problem was that I rarely had time to enjoy living in my cute little abode.

  The first things I did when I walked inside was take my clothes off, shove them into the laundry basket, and get into the shower.

  As the warm water trickled down my face, I squeezed the sides of my head, trying to expunge memories of my ex, his new girlfriend, and the stranger from my head. What’s happening to me? I suddenly felt as if my life was about to change in ways I never imagined. Maybe Court and Rich’s relationship would work, and their success would reveal that I was the one who pushed him into cheating. I was too cold, not available and when the rubber met the road, not truly in love with him.

  I turned off the water, determined to keep it together and not fall apart. The shower had given me enough energy to make a quick cup of chamomile, echinacea, and ginger root tea with lemon and honey and drink it while checking my email to see if my fellowship had been approved.

  As I waited for my screen to go through its motions, I thought about how bleak my life was. I lived in gray. Courtney and Rich, well, they lived in red, vibrant blue, and hot pink. That was why Rich cheated on me. He used to say it all the time. “Pen, you’re sexy as hell but boring as fuck.” Then he would laugh as if he were joking. I would laugh, too, because I felt boring, even though I knew I wasn’t. Work, work, work… that was all I did. I loved my job, but still, I felt trapped in a universe where it was the only thing I had going on.

  When my computer booted, I went straight to my email. I’d applied for a fellowship in Boston to be closer to my aunt Christine, who lived in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and was a licensed marriage and family therapist. She wasn’t the type of person who hosted family get-togethers. As a matter of fact, I’d never been to her house. When I was in medical school in Boston, we’d met for coffee or lunch occasionally, but though I wasn’t that far away from her, we only met up a handful of times. The last time I’d seen her, she kept repeating how much I looked like my mom. Whenever she said it, the skin between her eyes would pucker, which made me nervous.

  “If you’re worried that I’m going to drop off the face of the earth like her, don’t. I’m entering my residency, so…” I said, picking at my muffin on my plate.

  Though I’d thought what I said would make her stop frowning, she intensified it after asking me more questions. I couldn’t remember what she had asked me exactly. Perhaps it was a question about my dorm life or subjects I found more interesting. I felt as if we used to struggle to keep a conversation going. Then after one hour on the dot, Christine announced that she had to leave for one reason or another, and that would be the end of our visit.

  Those sit-downs with her felt as though they had happened many moons ago, but she and I had been in touch since. Each month, she put ten thousand dollars into my account. She said it was an inheritance from my grandparents.

  “An inheritance?” I asked. “I thought they came from nothing.”

  “No. They didn’t,” Christine said in her usual cool tone.

  “But why now, when they’ve been dead since before I was born?”

  “Well, that’s how it goes sometimes. These things can take forever to get resolved,” she said.

  I hadn’t needed to touch a dime of the money. I kept it in a high-interest-yielding savings account. One day, I would use the cash to buy a house. As long as my life was the way it was, I didn’t need much money. Sleep was worth more than all the money in the world.

  I yawned as I scanned my new emails from top to bottom—no message from Boston Medical Center. I could finally relax until I checked again the next day.

  Suddenly, it was as if exhaustion hit me like a ton of bricks. I yawned yet again and dragged myself to my bedroom, crawled into bed, and went straight to sleep.

  My alarm blared, fusing with my dream of the sexy stranger. We had just kissed, and he told me that Rich was his teammate. I was heartbroken about that since I didn’t want anything to do with Rich or his team and tried to yell at him to stay away from me, but my mouth couldn’t work.

  Finally, my eyes opened, and it no longer mattered that I couldn’t speak in my dream. It was over, and I had no time to explore its meaning. The rat race called my life had officially resumed.

  After raking my toothbrush across my teeth as fast as I could and dousing my face with cold water, I took a moment to study my reflection in the mirror. My skin was pallid, and darkness had settled beneath my light-brown eyes. I’d looked like that for a long time, and it wouldn’t get any better for a while. Soon my residency would be over, but being a fellow or an attending was just as draining.

  I turned off the faucet. It was not the time to get bogged down by thinking about my future. Plus, doom and gloom might not have been in the forecast. My next shift loomed. So I rushed into the kitchen and grabbed the Ziploc bags I’d already prepped with my favorite snacks like beet chips, raw almonds, and apple slices covered with peanut butter and stuffed them into my oversized tote bag, which already contained a toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, face cleanser, a face towel, two changes of underwear, two pairs of socks, and a host of other knickknacks I’d forgotten about.

  Two minutes left. I gulped down a glass of orange juice, set the glass in the sink, grabbed my bag, and rushed out the front door, barely remembering to lock it.

  “Morning, Kit Kat,” someone with a familiar voice called.

  I stopped at the elevator and turned to see Zara Agate, one of my team members, power walking in my direction as she put on her jacket. Shit, I forgot my jacket. Then I remembered I had an extra one stored in my locker and relaxed. Even though it was hot outside, it was often freezing cold in the hospital.

  “Morning, Reese’s Pieces,” I said as I jabbed the elevator button.

  When we’d begun our neurosurgery residency together, we spent most of our shift hungry and scarfing down packaged and chemical-laden junk food. We started calling each other by the names of our favorite snacks to make not eating any of it easier. Seven years later, we no longer craved the junk. It probably had nothing to do with the nicknames.
We’d both learned that if we wanted to pull off a thirty-hour shift, which entailed at least three surgeries, then we’d better be powered by more nutritious food.

  She stopped beside me and rubbed her eyes. “Another day, another shitty day.”

  I cracked an empathetic smile.

  “And tonight, I’m on call. Shit,” she groused.

  The doors slid open. Calvin and Sanjay, two residents in the internal medicine program, were already inside.

  “Good morning, guys,” I said as Zara grabbed me by the shoulders.

  “Seriously, Pen. I don’t know if I’m coming or going.” She was shaking me as she worked herself into a frenzy. “What am I doing with my life? Why am I so dog-tired?”

  The doors opened, and Sanjay and Calvin raised their eyebrows and said, “See you later,” as they slid past us and out of the elevator. They were used to meltdowns. We all were.

  I quickly took her by her shoulders and looked her dead in the eyes. “Done?”

  Her frown said she was unsure. “I guess so.”

  That was good enough for me. “Then let’s walk.”

  I exited the elevator, and she followed me.

  The NOLA air always made the new day easier for me. It was going to be another hot one, when all the fried foods and local cuisines would be simmering in the atmosphere. However, once again, I would be trapped inside the big, cold hospital, unable to catch a whiff of any of it until my shift ended.

  Zara and I walked swiftly out of habit but in silence, which was abnormal. She was usually a chatterbox in the morning. It felt so strange not to hear her prattle on about her political volunteerism or the newest guy her parents were trying to get her to marry that I asked if everything was okay.

  She sighed wearily. “No.”

  “No?” My tone was both sympathetic and leading her to explain.

  “Remember what we talked about a few days ago?”

  I shuffled through my memory bank to find the last conversation we had. When I located it, I gasped a little. “You mean quitting the program. You weren’t serious about that.” At least I wanted to think so.

  “Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “I think I’ve had enough, Pen.”

  I shook my head repeatedly. “We’re almost finished, though.”

  “No,” she said and slapped herself on the chest. “I’m done. And I don’t give a fuck if my parents are disappointed. I’m thirty-two and only became a doctor because it was either be a doctor”—she raised her finger emphatically—“no, be more than a doctor. Be a brain surgeon or marry one of their rich friends’ sons. No. No, no, no, and no. I’m over it. And quitting at this point sends the strongest message to my parents that they don’t control me anymore. Fuck it. If I lose them, then I lose them, but I’ll be free.”

  We were thoughtfully silent again as we passed Bernard’s Bakery. Usually, one of us would ask if the other wanted to go in for a croissant, knowing we’d be a little late for our shift because Eloise, the woman who co-owned the bakery and worked in the mornings, would want to gossip about something someone from the hospital had told her.

  Actually, it would’ve been perfect to chat with Eloise that morning. She might’ve known something about the handsome stranger. My mind was too busy to obsess over him, but I still wanted to know who he was. The decadent smell of freshly baked pastries drew everyone in the neighborhood into her shop. If he lived in the area, Eloise would know his whole story. I was sure of it.

  I looked longingly through the window of Bernard’s. That day, we would pass her by, and that felt like the right decision.

  After a sigh, I said, “Well… you are right about your life belonging to you, and that’s the way God made it. You know what I mean? He didn’t attach your mom and dad to your ass. You know?”

  Zara pressed her lips together as she nodded. “Right,” she said quietly. “By the way, what’s going on with you since we last spoke?”

  It almost felt wrong to bring up my dramas. That odd sense that radical change was in the air had grabbed me again, though. I certainly had a lot of newness in my life as of the day before at Bellies, but Zara wasn’t just frivolously claiming she was quitting. She meant it. Half of me wanted to convince her to stay. The other half knew she couldn’t be persuaded.

  “Hurry, tell me. We’re almost at the hospital,” she said.

  When I looked up from the pavement, I saw the huge modern glass complex on the horizon. So I scoffed then quickly told her about my encounter with Court and Rich.

  She frowned as she shook her head slowly. “Wait, are you seriously talking about Rich Durbin, your ex?”

  I nodded then shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah.” I turned to meet her gaze. “What?” I asked, confused.

  “That’s it?”

  I jerked my head back. “What do you mean, ‘that’s it’?”

  “You don’t want to scratch her eyes out, pull her hair, or clip his balls off?”

  I sniffed. “No.” My tone made it clear that I thought that was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard. Other people behaved that way but not me. Acting like a petulant child when things didn’t go my way wasn’t how I operated.

  She put an arm around my shoulders. “That’s right, crazy-ass bitch is not your style.”

  I chuckled and put my arm around her waist. “Hey…”

  “What?”

  “Are you really leaving?” I couldn’t help myself. I had to know for sure that our walks to the hospital, lunches and dinners in the call room or the fourth-floor terrace, note comparing during rounds, and competitions to fly solo on the best surgeries would end one month earlier.

  She came to an abrupt stop. “Wait.” She wrinkled her nose.

  “What?” I slapped my hand over my chest. Curiosity made my heart beat faster.

  “Haven’t you ever wondered why Courtney sounds like a Valley girl straight out of the malls of the San Fernando Valley during the eighties when she was born and raised in New Orleans? Like, how the hell does that happen?”

  I tossed my head back, and Zara and I laughed so hard that our voices echoed through the courtyard. Then I saw him, and my laughter came to an immediate halt. His curious and sexy pale-blue eyes flitted over Zara’s face then landed on mine. I couldn’t breathe, though I thought I’d just gasped. Zara and I were silent as church mice as we finished watching him stroll into the hospital.

  It took a moment for the details about him to work their way through my brain. He had on a white lab coat over blue scrubs, and he looked even yummier than he had the day before.

  “Who the hell was that?” she asked, her jaw still dropped.

  “I don’t know,” I said breathlessly.

  “He’s into you,” she said.

  I shook my head adamantly. “No way. You’re the beauty. I’m not.”

  “Oh, fuck, Pen. What’s wrong with you?”

  My neck jutted forward. “Huh?”

  “Ugh,” she grunted, frustrated. “Let’s go. Hot doctor has made us extra late. And we need to learn who the hell he is so you can get laid.”

  I gasped, and my mouth remained open as she practically dragged me past the sliding glass doors. Deep down inside, I was scared, and I was certain that not even in an alternate universe or another lifetime would someone who carried himself and looked like that guy be into me. Right?

  Chapter Three

  Penina Ross

  His name was Dr. Jake Sparrow, and out of all the departments in the hospital, he was in mine—or better yet, since he was an attending, I was in his. I had managed to avoid directly interacting with him all day. However, whenever we were in the same room, I could sense his presence. I caught him staring at me numerous times. It was strange, though. It was as if he didn’t know he was doing it. For instance, when he spoke with Dr. Nassim, one of the fellows, while he listened, he stared at me. I tried like hell to avoid his eyes and escape the room as fast as I could. What is it about him? I’d never had such a reaction to a man.

  My shift
went along as it usually did. Most people didn’t like doing rounds as much as I did. There was something about entering a room and seeing hope in their eyes that I had good news about the patient’s condition. Even when I had not so good news to give them, I tried to make our encounter an optimistic one.

  Along with the patients that were assigned to me the other day, I had picked up new ones after night call handed off their recently admitted patients. I read their charts and studied lab results and scans, wanting to know it all. After rounds, I was paged to the OR to perform my first endovascular repair of the day. Nearly every day, I encountered patients who bore stifling headaches until they ended up in the emergency room, barely hanging on for dear life. As a seventh-year resident, I could perform all surgical procedures without guidance. Only an attending had to sign off on the surgery. One day, Jake Sparrow and I would have to communicate, but that day wasn’t then.

  My shift was almost over, and as usual, it went by so fast. I was standing at the electronic health record pod in the care station while charting when Zara and Deb, our chief resident, walked out of one of the conference rooms. I stared hard at Zara, willing her to look at me. But she kept her eyes down as she walked past everyone in the vicinity then up the hallway that led to the call room.

  I was about to tear away from the EMR module to catch up with Zara and question her, but Deb stomped toward me. Her lips were pressed into a flat line, and the corners of her mouth turned downward.

  When she reached me, she patted the counter twice. “Could you take Zara’s on-call night tonight? I’ll give you two days off for it.”