Doctored Vows - Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Maksim made his target, just, but when my phone buzzed, announcing a change in my roster from an early shift to a daytime shift, he switched off my alarm, then returned to fucking me like he hadn’t found release only five minutes earlier.

It was a glorious night of orgasms and, shockingly, six-plus hours of sleep.

I’ve never felt more alive.

I freeze mid-stretch when a familiar voice warns, “If you keep moaning like that, I’m going to shove a blunt object into my ear.” Zoya waits for our eyes to align before grinning. “I love you, girl, but I heard you moan enough the past weekend to last me a lifetime.”

Her grin doubles when I match her maturity with a tongue poke.

After finalizing my stretch, I ask, “What are you doing here, Z? Miss me already?”

A restful slumber isn’t responsible for my cheery mood. I’m a new woman solely from more orgasms than I can count.

Zoya wiggles her brows. “Always.” She moves closer to my bed. “I also thought I should check that you’re okay with me working with Maksim. You say I have a mile-long jealous streak, but you seem to have forgotten I learned all my best tricks from you.” I scoff but don’t get a single word in. “Don’t scoff me. You were about ready to tear that air hostess a new butthole before Maksim took out the trash.” She flops onto the bed, sending pillows and bedding flying into the air. “And I saw your stage storm-off at the bikini comp. That was gold-class jealousy.”

“He was being a twit.”

She rolls onto her stomach and kicks her legs in the air. “He was, but for a good reason.” As quickly as my confusion arrives, she leaps off my bed and gets back to business. “Anyhoo, when Maksim offered me a job, I accepted it without considering how you’d feel about me being at your man’s side more than you. You know I’d never do anything.” Her smile quickly fades. “I would never disrespect you like that. But I still should have asked you.” She looks seconds from falling to her knees as the glint in her eyes turns pleading. “Do you hate me?”

“Never, Z.” I try to hold in my spitefulness, but it rears its head too quickly for me to shut down. “How could I when you’ll keep the skanks away from my husband.”

She fans her hands out in front of herself. “Why do you think I accepted his offer?”

I laugh, wishing she was joking but aware she isn’t.

With my shift not starting for another hour, I pretend I have all the time in the world for girl talk. “What exactly does your new position entail?”

Zoya twists her lips. “I’m not exactly sure. I think it has more to do with you than Maksim, but we haven’t hammered out all the details yet.”

“Me?” I ask, too shocked to articulate more.

“Uh-huh. This kind of gave it away.” She moseys to my open door, thanks someone on the other side, then wheels in a breakfast feast fit for a king. It is brimming with every breakfast treat you could think of and enough coffee to keep me awake for a week. “He also asked me to give you this.”

I drag my eyes away from a massive stack of pancakes when she hands me an envelope. The card inside is basic, but the worth of the black card that falls out couldn’t be mistaken even by someone without a cent to their name.

My heart flutters when I read Maksim’s message.

For whatever your heart desires.

M xx

When Zoya reads the message, she moans before adding words to the disturbing sound. “I’m seriously getting a lady boner for your husband.”

I give her a look as if to say, Keep your mitts off my husband, before I place the credit card onto the bedside table and offer for her to join me for breakfast. She crosses her heart like she does anytime she makes a promise before she beats me to the stack of pancakes I was eyeing off.

We’re almost in a carbohydrate coma by the time Maksim returns to my room. He hands Zoya a sheet of paper that smells recently printed before his eyes stray to me. He drags them down my body like my wrinkled scrubs, messy bun, and makeup-free face are more appealing than the skimpy dress and fully made-up face I donned at Aleena’s hen night.

“Are you ready?” His voice is husky and deep and has me wishing I had more than fifteen minutes before my shift starts.

“Almost.” I spritz myself with deodorant and slip my feet into the pumps I’ve almost worn to death, before saying, “Now I’m ready.” I wiggle my fingers at Zoya while making my way to Maksim, who is standing at the entrance of the room. My nostrils flare when I press my lips to the edge of his mouth. He smells like coffee, buttered toast, and me. “I’ll see you tonight.”

He jerks up his chin before kissing my temple and then stepping back. “Ano is waiting for you downstairs.” Confusion must cross my features, as Maksim is quick to remove it. “He will drive you to work.”

“It’s half a mile down the street.”

Zoya sits back and watches the fireworks when Maksim replies, “That I don’t want you walking.”

“With traffic, it will take longer to drive.”

“I. Don’t. Care,” Maksim bites out, his temper rising. “Your shift finishes at nine. It will be dark by then.”

Over being babied, I skirt past him while saying, “Then Ano can pick me up tonight.”

“Nikita.”

“Goodbye, Maksim.”

My race for the exit means the click of my heels almost drowns out Zoya’s breathy laugh. “And you thought getting her to agree to marry you would be the hardest part of your marriage.”

Her comment lowers my speed but only long enough for the clomp of Maksim’s boots to overtake the pounding of my pulse. He’s hot on my tail, and even though his scowl should frighten me, my body reacts on the opposite end of the spectrum.

I’m so turned on by his possessive stalk I don’t give him a chance to voice any of his grievances.

I kiss him instead.

It is a fumbling, messy embrace that makes a bird nest of my hair in under ten seconds and makes me wish a pledge didn’t require putting in the hard yards.

I’ve enjoyed being in Maksim’s bubble so much the past few days, for the first time, I’m dreading going to work.

After nipping at my lips, Maksim slowly pulls back before murmuring, “You play dirty, Doc.”

“Says the guy whose kisses alone have me wanting to backtrack on every promise I’ve ever made.” Since I don’t have time to settle his confusion, I ask, “Is Ano waiting for me in the garage or the foyer?”

His smile makes my backflip easy to swallow. “The garage.”

With no more words needed, he flattens his hand against my back and guides me to the elevator. The eyes of the man he excused last night peek up over a newspaper when he notices our approach before he hits the call button and returns to reading. Since his suit jacket has been removed, it is impossible to miss the two-gun holster bulking out his large frame.

“Is this much security necessary?”

Maksim escorts me inside the elevator and selects the floor for the garage before instructing the attendant that he can take it from here.

He waits for him to leave before answering my question. “Being married to someone like me has as many disadvantages as perks. Security can seem like a disadvantage until you need it.”

“So they’re here for you?” You can hear the confusion in my voice.

Maksim’s smirk makes my heart race. “No. I can take care of myself.”

“And you think I can’t?” Not looking for a fight, I continue talking. “I wasn’t lying when I said I know exactly which arteries are vital.”

“I’d ask for tips if cutting off a guy’s cock was my forte.”

As the elevator dings, announcing we’ve arrived at the garage, I reply, “The male appendage doesn’t contain vital arteries.”

“It does when it comes to you, Doc. Even when you’re slicing through his junk with a scalpel, all his blood would still be rushing to the area you’re groping. He’d bleed out in seconds.”

I laugh. It is a far nicer way to end our conversation than the argument we were inching toward earlier.

After pressing my lips to the corner of his mouth for the second time this morning, I slip through the car door Maksim holds open for me, before latching my seat belt.

“Straight to Myasnikov Private,” Maksim demands to the driver before he closes the back door of a blacked-out SUV and taps the roof, signaling for the driver to leave.

Traffic is atrocious, but Maksim’s wish for me to be driven to work makes sense when I spot the number of media vans clogging the streets. They’re lined up outside my building and remind me of the number of gossip articles I found about Maksim while trying to track down his mother’s details.

He was featured in glossy magazines like he’s a celebrity, and was one of Russia’s most eligible bachelors, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at the media’s interest in discovering who removed the prestigious title they assured its readers would never occur.

Things are as hectic at Myasnikov Private as at my building. The staff are overrun with another gastroenteritis outbreak, and although I’m no longer on the roster in the ER, the number of cases has also flooded into the pediatric ward.

“Where do you need me?”

Dr. Lipovsky, my now supervisor, sighs in relief when she spots me before suggesting Room 3A. “Yulia Petrovitch was brought in this morning with severe abdominal cramps and distension.”

“Was she scanned?”

She nods before handing off a patient chart to a nurse. “Nothing was found. Her bowels are clear, and all organs are of normal size and appearance. We’re thinking food poisoning.” She flicks her eyes to the curtained-off room. “Her father arrived an hour ago. I’ve not yet had the chance to speak with him.”

“I will do it now.”

She thanks me with a smile before she assists a nurse with a patient transfer.

After running my eyes over Yulia’s blood workup that just arrived and the scans taken while I slept, I enter her room. “Mr. Petrovitch, my name is Nikita Hoffman. I am one of the residents at Myasnikov Private. I—” When I look up and notice Mr. Petrovitch removing the IV line of his ashen-faced daughter, my words entomb in my throat. “What are you doing? Your daughter is severely dehydrated. Without fluids, she could become very unwell.”

Guilt is the first emotion he expresses. It is chased by panic. “I-I lost my job. I don’t know when our insurance expires.” He speaks in Russian, so I struggle to keep up, but I get the gist of what he is saying. “I may not be able to pay.”

I stop his tugs on the cannula by asking, “Was she admitted by the ER team?”

His stitched brows indicate he’s uncomfortable with our language barrier, but his nod reveals he understands me.

“Then her admission is already taken care of.” I place my hand over his, stilling his fidgeting movements further before saying, “They would not have admitted her if she had inadequate health coverage.” Relief floods his eyes with wetness. “Let me help your daughter, Mr. Petrovitch. That’s why you brought her here, isn’t it? You want her to get better.”

“Yes,” he breathes out slowly, struggling not to let his tears fall. “She’s my baby. My darling.” He runs his hand over her hair that sticks to her sweaty scalp. “I can’t lose her.”

“You won’t.” He shoots his eyes to mine to see the promise in them. “But I need you to step back so I can assess her properly.”

His head bobs like a bobblehead toy before he eventually moves into the shadows Maksim hid in when I assessed his mother.

“Hello, sweetheart,” I greet Yulia, who is peering up at me wide-eyed and responsive. Her cheeks are white, and she appears unwell, but she is a cute little cherub. “Is it okay if I listen to your chest? It won’t hurt, but the bell at the end might be a little cold.”

She checks with her dad before nodding.

“How long has she been unwell?” I ask her father while plugging a stethoscope into my ears to listen to Yulia’s heart and check her vitals.

“Th-three days,” he admits, his words stuttering with shame.

Her heart sounds healthy, and her vitals are decent, considering how unwell she has been.

“Now I’m going to push down on your stomach.” I wait for her to nod again before starting my assessment near her ribs and then lowering it to her stomach. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Just a little longer, okay?” She nods again, but it breaks my heart when little tears form in her eyes. “There we go, all done.” I pull down her hospital gown before spinning to face her father. “Her pain could be caused by a gastroenteritis bug or perhaps even a parasite, but her pain intolerance increased when I pressed near her kidneys, so I would like to test her urine to ensure there isn’t an infection in her kidneys.”

“Will that cost anything?”

I shake my head. “No. It is part of her admission.” With money at the forefront of his mind, I can’t help but ask, “Did Yulia eat anything unusual before she became unwell? Raw food? Or did she handle uncooked poultry?”

“No. Nothing like that. I always make sure her food is cooked properly. I’m a chef.” He stops, cusses, then corrects himself. “I was a chef. I know food preparation. I go through anything given to us. I would never serve her scraps. You have to believe me.”

“I believe you.” I step toward him with kind, caring eyes. “We just need to make sure we cover all our bases to ensure the best prognosis for Yulia.” When he nods, still fighting not to cry, I twist back around to face Yulia. “I know your tummy is very sore, but if I brought you something special, do you think you could try to eat a little bit of it for me?” I laugh when her eyes stray to the horrid hospital food no one wants to eat. “Not that disgusting stuff. Something more special.”

That piques her interest, but she still gets her father’s approval before she nods.

Her need to seek permission would be concerning if I didn’t understand.

She isn’t making sure she follows his every command. She is vying for the best possible outcome because she knows no one will protect and love her more than her father.

How do I know this if we’ve only just met?

I once did the same with my father.

And I can see the same thing happening with Maksim.