Doctored Vows - Chapter 5

“You’re still coming, right? We got our tickets with miles and are staying in a comped room, so accommodation and airfares are practically free. We just need to show up.” Zoya stops, gulps, then starts again. “And maybe buy the occasional meal. I’m sure there will be a market close by. We can pick up some instant noodles. You still like those, right?”

The coffees I ducked out to purchase for Alla and me go cold when I move to the side of the entrance of Myasnikov Private to offer my best friend the support she’s seeking. “I’m still technically a student, so even if I didn’t like them, I’d still have to eat them.”

She sighs in relief before getting down to the real reason she’s panicked. “Do you think it’s weird that I invited myself to her bachelorette party?”

“She’s your sister, Zoya. Your invitation is automatic.” Her breathing spikes again when I say, “Me, on the other hand…”

“You’re my sister. That makes your invitation automatic.”

“Maybe to your hen party, but I don’t know if it counts for your sister.”

“Our bond means she’s practically your half-sister. That’s close enough. I also really need you there. I don’t know how I’ll respond if Mother shows up.” She says “mother” exactly how you’d expect any child with a loathing disdain for the woman who raised her to. “It will be bad enough having to deal with her at the wedding.”

“She won’t be there. The Trudny District isn’t rich enough for her blood.” She huffs but doesn’t deny my claim. “And if she is, she can’t get to you without first going through me.”

“And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why she is my sister without sharing an iota of my blood.” She shifts her focus from the imaginary people circling her to me. “I love you, Keet.”

“I love you too, Z. I’ll see you in a couple of hours. My bus should arrive around eight.” When she grimaces, I say, “If I had any other option, I’d take it, but an Uber is too expensive with all the new taxes they’ve tacked on, and I sold Gigi’s car last year to pay for Grampies’ medication.”

“I get it. I just…” When she realizes she is no better off than me, she tells me she loves me again before thanking me for always being there for her.

“Always. See you tonight.”

“You will. Bye.”

After storing my phone, I lift my eyes from the icy ground, startling when I spot Mr. Ivanov standing only a few feet across from me. He’s dressed in far more clothing than the last time I saw him. His impeccably tailored suit and crisp business shirt combination adds to his commanding authority. It doesn’t helm it.

He looks as in charge now as he did when he aided in my campaign to conduct Mrs. Ivanov’s diagnosis without her going under a scalpel, like a business mogul who could hand over tens of millions of millions as easily as he did the accolades that saw me offered a new position.

I shouldn’t say Dr. Sidorov’s offer was a new position. If I had accepted it, I would have done the same things I’ve always done. I would have just been paid more to do it.

After checking the time and noticing I still have ten minutes left on my lunch break, I dump the cold coffees into the trash before storing the donuts purchased to go with them in my oversized purse.

Once I’m sure my hair isn’t a mess and my lipstick isn’t smeared, I approach Mr. Ivanov. “Mr. Ivanov.”

When he spins to face me, the frantic beat of my heart drops several inches lower.

Between my legs, to be precise.

He looks angry, and his unexpected response to being accosted has me blubbering out the first excuse that pops into my head. “Sorry. I won’t take a minute of your time. I just wanted to⁠—”

“Who is your friend, dear?”

Surprise blisters through me when Mrs. Ivanov’s svelte frame clears the wide girth of Mr. Ivanov’s shoulders. Then guilt settles in. With her coloring back to healthy and her eyes wide and bright, she is even more beautiful than first perceived. She could get any man she wants—even the one I’ve had numerous naughty dreams about over the past two weeks.

“This is Dr. Hoffman,” Mr. Ivanov introduces, his tone far smoother than mine. “The doctor I told you about.” His eyes are on me, hot and heavy. “Dr. Hoffman, this is my mother, Irina.”

“Your mother?” I curse myself to hell when I vocalize my question instead of keeping it inside my head. When two pairs of identical eyes stare at me in shock, I blubber out, “I wasn’t sure if she was your sister or your wife.” Mother! I meant to say mother.

I’m saved from throwing myself into the trench I just dug when Mrs. Ivanov laughs. “I’ve been accused of being their sister many times, but this is the first time I’ve ever been mistaken for their wife.”

She speaks as if more than just her son and me are standing across from her.

“Sorry,” she apologizes when she spots the bewilderment on my face. My bedside manner is exemplary, but I need to work on schooling my expressions while trying to work out if a patient’s quirks are neurological or part of their personality. “There was a time I could never get them apart. Now they’re rarely together.” Her eyes soften as they drift to her son. “Speaking of Matvei, you should probably give him an update. This development is no doubt interesting to all involved.”

Dark hair falls into her son’s eyes when he nods before he pulls a cell phone out of his pocket.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, too curious for my own good. “I tried to check up on you after you were discharged, but your contact information was as scarce as your admission paperwork.”

I laugh like it’s funny to lose a patient’s admission.

Thankfully it makes me appear more caring than stalkerish.

“You checked up on me?” Mrs. Ivanov asks, her tone piqued.

I nod. “I organized your discharge plan and forwarded it to the GP cited on your online medical records. It was full of information on managing and living with a B12 deficiency.” A frown crosses my face. “He wasn’t overly interested when I spoke with him, but I was hopeful he’d pass on the information to you.” I touch her arm before giving her the reassurance all practitioners should give their patients. “Your condition is manageable with the right management plan.”

“He passed on some information,” Mrs. Ivanov replies. “Although he failed to mention it came from you.”

I want to act surprised by her admission, but I am not. Her confession is one reason I turned down Dr. Sidorov’s promotion. I don’t think the private sector is the right fit for me. I got into medicine to help people. Profits should never come into it—not even when you’re struggling to rub two pennies together.

After looping her arm around my elbow, Mrs. Ivanov meanders us toward a taxi rank. “Come. Walk with me while Maksim takes care of business. We have much to discuss.”

Her perfume is as powerful as the silent warning her son hits her with when he eyes her peculiarly. He doesn’t exactly glare at her. He more gives her a look like the one I hit Zoya with whenever we went out drinking in college.

Once we’re at a safe distance, Mrs. Ivanov says, “You’ll have to excuse Maksim. He has a hard shell, but it is only to stop his gooey insides from spilling out.”

Maksim proves he has supersonic hearing by scoffing.

With a smile that proves she likes ruffling her son’s feathers, Mrs. Ivanov sits on a park bench edging the sidewalk before gesturing for me to join her. I move closer but remain standing. Benches are full of germs, and I need to save the sanitizing wipes in my purse for the bus trip I’m taking later tonight.

I remained living at my grandparents’ apartment for a reason. It is close enough to the hospital that I’ll never have to use public transport.

Public modes of transport give me the ick.

Their apartment is a little pricier than the other one-bedrooms in the area, but what I save in transport fees more than makes up the difference.

I’ve also not had a single sick day in the past three years.

Mrs. Ivanov mistakes my germ phobia as fear. “I won’t bite, dear.” She doesn’t attempt to alter her volume when she adds, “Although from how highly Maksim has spoken of you the past two weeks, I may be the only Ivanov keeping their teeth sheathed.”

Maksim’s eyes shoot up from his cell phone while my eyes rocket to him. “Ma.”

“What?” she replies, her eyes gleaming like she’s proud she once again forced him to respond. “Was anything I said untrue?”

Heat creeps across my cheeks when Maksim remains quiet.

It returns my thoughts to when I walked in on him in the shower and has me hopeful for another spontaneous run-in.

My prayers appear as if they’ll be left ungranted when a dark sedan pulls in behind the bench, completely ignoring the angry honk of the cab driver he cut off. The SUV is fancy and heavily tinted. I highly doubt it charges by the mile.

“That will be for me.”

“Careful,” I request when Mrs. Ivanov bounds off the bench like she has somewhere important to be. She may, but she’ll end up back as my patient if she doesn’t slow down.

When I say that to her, she blows a raspberry that doesn’t match her style or sophistication. “You could never be so unlucky.”

My heart melts when she wraps me up in a motherly hug like she’s known me for years. Or perhaps she knows it’s been years since I’ve been engulfed by a warmth only a mother can offer. I haven’t experienced my mother’s hugs in over eight years, and the last one we shared was as cold and unloving as the ground she was buried in only an hour later.

After thawing sections of my heart that froze when I lost both my parents within days of each other, Mrs. Ivanov caresses her son in the same manner. I don’t know what she whispers in his ear, but his eyes flick to me numerous times, and he awards her the occasional nod.

Mrs. Ivanov’s perfume whips up around me when she glides past me before slipping into the back of the SUV, passing a large black man holding open the door for her.

“Trust your instincts.” I realize her request may not be solely for me when she adds, “They brought us back here for a reason, but they may not be all bad.”

After waiting for Maksim to nod, she signals for the driver to go, leaving Maksim butting shoulders with me on the footpath.

My surprise is so high it takes her SUV melding into the peak-hour traffic before my mouth will articulate anything. “Are you not going with her?”

“Eventually.”

I feel Maksim’s eyes on me for several long seconds before I build the courage to stop watching snow flurries fall around us and twist to face him.

He smirks as if he appreciates my strength. He shouldn’t. My insides are in so much turmoil it is like the grade three dance recital all over again. I’m seconds from vomiting on my shoes.

“I have some matters I need to take care of here first.”

“Here?” I don’t give him the chance to reply. “I didn’t realize your family’s real estate portfolio extended this far inland.”

I cringe at my inability to think on the spot. My reply disclosed my research didn’t end when I unearthed his mother’s medical history. I delved into their private affairs as well.

It didn’t disclose much, only that the Ivanov name is attached to numerous development applications and structures across the globe.

After staring long enough for the snow to melt, Maksim says, “It hadn’t previously.” A ghost of a smile creeps onto his mouth, and it does wild things to my insides. They’re definitely good jitters because they’re the same ones that fluttered in my stomach when I walked in on him in the shower. “This is a new venture I recently unearthed an interest in.”

“Cool.”

Who the hell says “cool” anymore, Nikita?

“I hope it goes well for you.”

He takes a moment to authenticate the sincerity in my tone before he dips his chin in gratitude.

Tension thickens the air with humidity, but before it can stick to my skin, Maksim glances over my shoulder. I miss who has caught his attention since they dart through foot traffic like they’re attempting to outrun the Grim Reaper, but Maksim seems eager to catch up with them.

He mumbles a quick goodbye before he takes off after them, leaving me confused and devastated on the footpath.