Research Lab
Rowan stormed into his penthouse, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. His tie was already half-loosened as he stalked toward the kitchen, his thoughts racing.
“She’s just my surgeon,” he muttered to himself, yanking the tie free and tossing it onto the counter. “That’s it. Nothing more.”
But the words rang hollow, and he knew it.
The way she’d leaned into that man—Asher—laughed with him, touched his thigh so casually. It had grated on Rowan’s nerves in a way he couldn’t explain.
“What’s her game?” he muttered, undoing the top button of his shirt as he paced. His gaze flicked to the city lights outside the window, but they didn’t calm him. “Why do I care? She’s free to do whatever—”
He stopped mid-sentence, groaning in frustration as the image of Asher’s hand on her shoulder replayed in his mind for the hundredth time.
“Damn it,” he hissed under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “Why does this bother me?”
He poured himself a glass of whiskey, taking a long sip, but it didn’t help. His jaw clenched as he remembered the way she smiled at Asher, a soft, unguarded smile he hadn’t seen from her before.
“She’s just my surgeon,” he repeated, trying to convince himself. But even he didn’t believe it anymore.
The phone on the counter buzzed, the sound breaking through his spiraling thoughts. He snatched it up without looking at the caller ID.
“Yeah?” he barked.
“Rowan, my man!” a familiar voice boomed through the speaker. “Long time no see!”
Rowan frowned, glancing at the screen. “James?”
“The one and only,” James replied, laughing. “What’s with the grumpy tone? I’d expect a little more enthusiasm for your old friend.”
Rowan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s been a long day, James. What do you want?”
“Relax, man. I’m back in town, thought I’d see if you were still alive,” James said, his tone light. “You’ve been hiding out too much. Heard about your accident and selective memory loss. Glad you still remember me though. But seriously you need to go out more, It’s not good for you.”
“I’ve been working,” Rowan replied curtly.
“Yeah, yeah, same old story,” James said dismissively. “Anyway, I’m hosting a yacht masquerade tomorrow night. Thought you’d want to come.”
Rowan opened his mouth to decline, but James cut him off.
“Before you say no, let me remind you—good drinks, great company, and no work talk,” James said, his voice teasing. “Come on, Rowan. Live a little.”
Rowan hesitated, swirling the whiskey in his glass as he thought it over.
“You’ve been holed up too long,” James added. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? You might actually enjoy yourself?”
Rowan sighed, finally relenting. “Alright, fine. What time?”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” James said, his grin audible through the phone. “Be at the dock by seven. Don’t forget—it’s a masquerade, so bring a mask.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Rowan said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be there.”
“Good. See you tomorrow, my man!”
The call ended, leaving Rowan alone with his thoughts once more. He downed the rest of his whiskey, setting the glass on the counter with a little too much force.
“A masquerade,” he muttered, shaking his head. “What the hell am I doing?”
But as much as he hated to admit it, the thought of a distraction—any distraction—was welcome.
****
Remi’s POV
I stood under the blinding lights of the operating room, my hands steady, my focus razor-sharp. The faint hum of monitors filled the sterile air as my team worked seamlessly around me. It wasn’t just another surgery—it was a high-risk procedure that required every ounce of skill and precision I had.
“Clamp,” I said, my voice calm yet firm.
A nurse handed me the instrument, and I carefully maneuvered around the tissue. The patient’s vitals were stable, but the tension in the room was palpable. Not that I let it show.
“Dr. Laurent,” the anesthesiologist murmured, “everything’s holding steady.”
I gave a small nod. “Good. Almost there.”
After what felt like an eternity, I placed the final stitch and stepped back, my shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “We’re done,” I announced, meeting the team’s relieved smiles.
The operation had been a success, and the relief was almost overwhelming. I turned to the camera in the corner—another reminder that everything I did here was scrutinized and documented for research purposes.
“Thank you, everyone,” I said, peeling off my gloves. “Let’s get them stabilized and into recovery.”
As I left the OR, the adrenaline began to wear off, leaving me drained. I headed to the locker room to change, already thinking about my next stop.
\---
The research facility was buzzing with activity when I arrived. Scientists and doctors milled about, discussing projects and results. It was supposed to feel like home, but today, the energy felt off—tense, expectant.
“Dr. Laurent!” one of the assistants called out, jogging over to me. “We’ve got investors here today. Dr. Khan asked if you could help with the presentation.”
I sighed, rubbing my temples. I’d been hoping to avoid exactly this kind of situation. “Investors?”
“Yes,” he said, glancing toward the conference room. “And, uh… Mr. Vaughn is with them.”
My stomach dropped. Rowan Vaughn. Of course, he’d be here.
I glanced toward the hallway, contemplating a quick escape, but the assistant gave me a pleading look. “Dr. Khan really needs you.”
“Fine,” I muttered, adjusting my lab coat. “Let’s get this over with.”
\---
The conference room was sleek and modern, filled with polished executives and curious investors. Rowan stood at the center of it all, his presence commanding as usual. He was impeccably dressed, his dark suit tailored to perfection, and his sharp gaze swept over the room like he owned it.
Because he did.
I slipped into the room quietly, taking a spot near the presentation screen.
“Ah, Dr. Laurent!” Dr. Khan called out, waving me over. “Perfect timing. We were just discussing your latest breakthroughs.”
I nodded, forcing a polite smile. “Happy to help.”
Rowan’s gaze found me instantly, his eyes narrowing slightly as a small, amused smile played at the corner of his lips. I ignored him, focusing on the investors.
“Thank you for joining us,” I began, my voice steady. “Our research focuses on developing innovative surgical techniques and treatments that combine traditional methods with cutting-edge technology. For example—”
“And how
do you fund such innovations without charging patients?” Rowan’s voice cut through the room, smooth and deliberate.
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