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"Good afternoon, Miss Sinclair. Mr. Cross said you are expecting me."
"Yes, he mentioned it."
"My name is Dr. Archer, and this is Emily, a nurse who works with me. Do you mind if we come inside?"
After he injects me with a known medication so I can ovulate, he draws my blood, collecting the necessary samples to test for other diseases as a precaution or, rather, for Killian Cross. The nurse gives me a wan smile as she places all the items inside the tubes and begins testing.
Before, doctors needed to send blood to be tested and samples collected to a lab. Now they can get the results instantaneously. If you have money of course. Fewer privileged people who live on the mainland don't have that luxury. I heard from Ethan that even when they pay, they wait for days, sometimes weeks, for a test because of how many people need them.
It's a fucked-up system.
"She's clean," the nurse says to the doctor like I'm not here.
He looks at the results, then glances at me. "After I've conducted the exam, Miss Sinclair, I want to let you know that you are fertile. Nothing I see will prevent you from falling pregnant." He hands me a tablet. "Could you please fill this out?"
I scan the screen, and my face falls when I read the questions.
"What about him?" I blurt. "Is he clean? Do I have to be careful?"
The nurse gives the doctor a worried look, but his expression remains neutral when he responds, "You have nothing to worry about, Miss Sinclair. Mr. Cross is a cautious man."
He means he wears protection when he fucks his whores. Good to know.
"You are a very lucky man, Mr. Cross."
Seated at my desk in my office, I tear my eyes from the augmented reality screen under the glass of my desk, sliding my fingers to shrink the view. Dr. Archer approaches my desk with a pleasant smile, and I curse myself for not putting a camera inside her room–my mother's favorite room. I'm still trying to figure out why I placed her there.
My lip curls in irritation under my mask. He either saw her face, or he means because he was able to see firsthand what I bought. What belongs to me. "How so?"
"She isallwoman."
Her pussy, then. He’s talking about my future wife's pussy. A pussy I have yet to see for myself, let alone her face. I expected some form of respect, but sometimes I forget who I'm dealing with on this island. I'll deal with him in a bit, but first, I need the information I paid him to get. He is a well-rounded doctor and also a robotic surgeon, and I need him.
"I bet she is, Dr. Archer. Now give me the information I'm paying you for."
"Very well." He hands me the tablet with all her results. "I will give you access right away, but she's clean. No STDs or issues to worry about. She's fertile, and you will have no issues with her conceiving. She also indicated that she is not a virgin." I grip the tablet, wondering why I care or thought maybe she was bluffing and was untouched. My mind turns like a hamster on a wheel, trying to picture the piece of shit who touched her, but I can't. "But she is…fragile." He finishes.
I drop the tablet on the glass of my desk. "Fragile?"What the fuck does he mean she's fragile?He glances at the tablet nervously, and the fact that my knuckles have turned white from gripping the edge of the glass. He clears his throat and continues. "Based on her answers."
"Meaning?" I drawl, making a forward motion with my hand for him to get to the point.
"It means you should be careful with her. She’s had one sexual partner and intercourse a few times compared toyourexperience based on the questionnaire she filled out."
I pick up the tablet like I'm reading a juicy tabloid on the web, scrolling down to the question that asks how many partners and times you have had sexual intercourse.
I look up at him. "It says she has felt discomfort during sex."
"It's not uncommon, but I thought it was important, and you should be aware. Maybe it's not her. She hasn’t experienced any discomfort any other time herself."
Whoever she was fucking is a lame piece of shit who doesn't know how to pleasure a woman. My lips lift into a grin, glad for the mask covering my face.
She lied.
I won't lie to myself and say her mouth doesn't make me want to grab her and bend her over the nearest table and slide my cock inside her to shut her the fuck up.
It's crazy that I haven't seen her face, and she already drives me insane, but none of that matters. I need to stick to the plan. Her pleasure is of no importance to me. My thought of fucking up Dr. Archer evaporates like smoke for making a comment about her pussy.
I hand him the tablet, switching on the holographic screen to more important business matters. Dismissing him, I say, "Thank you but that is not my problem. Have a nice day, Dr. Archer."
