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Chapter Fourteen
The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting a harsh glow on the sterile hospital walls. Nurses bustle around me, gossiping and complaining about their shifts, but today, I don't give a damn. My body still hums with satisfaction from my little escapade with Constantino yesterday. It's pathetic to think that all it took was a good orgasm to put me in a better mood, but it's true.
I glance down at the clipboard in my hand, going through the motions with the patient's chart, but my thoughts are consumed by those dark locks and intense green eyes. Last night, when I finally dragged myself home, I wanted nothing more than to call my sister and spill every detail. But I didn't. She wouldn't approve, and honestly, neither do I. But it happened, and now I want it again – desperately.
"Ms. Johnson," I say, forcing a smile as I approach her bed. "How are you feeling today?"
"Better," she replies, and I nod while my mind wanders back to Constantino's rough hands and his dominant presence. God,what's wrong with me? "I think the pain medication is really helping."
"Great," I mutter, scribbling my notes onto the chart. I ask her a few more routine questions, but my thoughts keep drifting back to yesterday's primal encounter. The way he took control, how he pushed me to my limits – it was intoxicating. And now I crave more of him, more of that raw, unfiltered connection that left me feeling alive for the first time in years.
"Doctor?" Ms. Johnson's voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I blink, realizing I've been staring at her blankly for who knows how long.
"Sorry," I say quickly, offering another hollow smile. "Just lost in thought. You're all set, Ms. Johnson. Take care."
"Thank you," she replies as I leave her bedside, mentally chastising myself for my unprofessional behavior. I need to get it together; I can't let Constantino's memory distract me from my job.
But even as I tell myself this, I know it's a lie. The truth is, I want him again – and I'm terrified of what that means for me, for my carefully constructed life teetering on the edge.
Dragging my weary feet to the break room, I plop down on one of the worn-out couches and exhale a heavy sigh. The impact of my body hitting the cushions makes me realize how tense I've been all day, constantly fighting off thoughts of Constantino as I tend to patients. The weight of my growing desire for him is like ananchor dragging me down, making it harder to stay afloat in the chaos of the ER.
As I grab a stale muffin from the table, Rachel walks in, her face lighting up with surprise when she sees me. "Well, well, look who's in a better mood today," she teases, pouring herself a cup of coffee.
"Am I that transparent?" I chuckle, taking a bite of the tasteless pastry.
"Only to those who know you well," she replies, sitting down across from me. She studies me for a moment, her gaze probing, and I can tell she knows something's different. "So, what happened? You're practically glowing."
"Rachel, I am not 'glowing,'" I roll my eyes, but my cheeks betray me, heating up at her comment.
"Come on, spill it! Did you finally get laid or something?" she asks, a hint of mischief in her voice.
"Ugh, fine," I relent, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "I had a thing with someone last night. But it's complicated – he's not exactly someone I should be seeing."
Rachel raises her eyebrows, clearly intrigued. "A thing? Do tell."
"His name's...well, his name doesn't matter. He's got this dark side, this primal energy that I can't resist. It scares me, but I want more." My voice trembles as I admit the truth out loud, the confession leaving me vulnerable.
"Wow, sounds intense," she muses, leaning back in her chair. "But, you know, maybe it's not such a bad thing. You've been so closed off since the divorce – maybe this is what you need to break free and live a little."
"Live a little?" I scoff. "This isn't exactly a lighthearted fling, Rachel. He's dangerous."
"Maybe danger is what you need right now," she counters, taking a sip of her coffee. "And besides, it's not like you'replanning to marry the guy. If it feels good, if it makes you happy, then why overthink it? Just go with the flow."
"Go with the flow," I repeat, mulling over her words as my break time dwindles away. It's reckless, indulgent, everything I've always been taught to avoid. But when I think back on my night with Constantino, the raw, unfiltered passion we shared, I can't deny that there's a part of me yearning to let go of control.
"Fine," I say at last, standing up and tossing the remains of my muffin in the trash. "If the opportunity presents itself, I'll do it again."
Rachel grins, clapping me on the shoulder. "That's the spirit! Now go save some lives, Dr. Moretti."
I chuckle. "Thanks," I reply, feeling lucky to have Rachel as a friend and lighter as I head back out into the fray.
My phone buzzes, lighting up the darkened room, and I see Isabella's name flash across the screen. It's been a while since we had one of our sisterly gab-fests, and I know she's calling because we missed our last scheduled call together. I hesitate for a moment, debating whether to pick up, but finally give in as I crawl into bed.
"Hey Bella," I say with a forced cheerfulness that feels heavy on my tongue.
"Evie! How are you? It's been ages!" she exclaims, her words spilling over each other in excitement.
"Same old, same old," I reply, trying to sound casual while my heart races in my chest. But Isabella knows me better than anyone, and I can tell she senses that something's off.
