146

146

Dr Knight

She blinked rapidly several times, her face transitioning from shock to horror to rage in mere seconds. Then, all of a sudden, she started screaming at the top of her lungs as if I had assaulted her or something far worse than my admittedly inappropriate behavior. The piercing sound echoed off the walls of the hotel room, likely audible to everyone on our floor and possibly beyond.

"HELP! SECURITY! THERE'S A PERVERT IN MY ROOM!" she shrieked, her voice reaching an almost glass-shattering pitch.

I started in panic and immediately rushed toward her, covering her mouth with my hand in a desperate attempt to quiet her. "Stop! Stop screaming! Please! I'm sorry about the towel! It was completely inappropriate, but please stop yelling before security arrives and I get arrested!"

"I didn't mean to do that," I added hastily. "It was a terrible mistake—I don't know what came over me!"

She bit down hard on my hand with her teeth, causing me to yelp in pain and pull my hand away quickly. I stared at the teeth marks on my palm in disbelief.

"Are you completely crazy?" I asked, shaking my injured hand. "That really hurt! You could have just told me to back off!"

"ME? Crazy?" she fumed, her chest heaving with anger as she clutched the towel tightly around herself. She inhaled deeply, clearly trying to regain some control. "YOU pulled off my towel without my permission, and I'M the crazy one? Get the hell out of my room right now before I call the police and have you arrested for sexual harassment!"

"Look, I'm really sorry," I tried again, holding up my hands in surrender. "You're right—what I did was completely out of line. I don't normally behave this way, I swear."

"I don't care what you 'normally' do," she snapped. "Just leave!"

I couldn't wait to escape the situation anymore. She was clearly furious—justifiably so—and something about her combination of anger, vulnerability, and yes, her unexpectedly stunning body had awakened something inside me that I thought had long been dormant. A spark of genuine interest, maybe even attraction, that went beyond my usual superficial assessments.

"This is so messed up," I muttered to myself. "What am I doing?"

But despite my better judgment, I couldn't resist teasing her one last time before leaving, a childish attempt to save face. "Fine, I'll go. But you're still just a girl with tiny boobs pretending to be a grown woman."

"Excuse me?" she gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Did you seriously just say that after what you just saw?"

"Just trying to lighten the mood," I shrugged, backing toward the door.

She bent down quickly and grabbed a decorative glass vase from the coffee table in front of her. Before I could even register what was happening, in the blink of an eye, she hurled it directly toward my head with surprisingly good aim and force. I jumped to the side just in time, the vase shattering against the door frame mere inches from where I'd been standing.

"You could have killed me!" I exclaimed, genuinely shocked.

"That was the idea!" she shouted back. "Next time I won't miss!"

I shut the door behind me immediately as another object—possibly a shoe—thumped against it from the other side. I leaned against the wall in the hallway, my heart racing from the adrenaline of our encounter.

"She's got quite an arm," I muttered, impressed despite myself.

The weird thing was that despite this disastrous interaction, I found myself smiling and then actually laughing—genuinely laughing from the depths of my heart as if I hadn't truly laughed in years. There was something refreshingly honest about her reactions, something unfiltered and real that I hadn't experienced in a long time.

"What just happened in there?" I asked myself, still chuckling. "She really is something else."

She was funny and unpredictable in a way that felt invigorating. Maybe it was because she was young and somewhat boyish in her manner—a bit of a tomboy with her direct approach and lack of the usual feminine games I was accustomed to from women. Or maybe it was simply that she didn't seem impressed by me at all, which was a novelty in itself.

"She didn't even ask what kind of doctor I am," I realized with surprise. "Most women immediately want to know that."

I couldn't precisely explain why, but meeting her had somehow reminded me of my earlier days, five or six years ago before meeting Bella. Back when my life was simpler in some ways—morally worse, perhaps, but less complicated emotionally. Back when I used to have brief, meaningless encounters with patients who came into my clinic, never seeing them again afterward.

"Those were different times," I reflected, shaking my head at the memory.

It was a horrible pattern of behavior that I wasn't proud of now, but I never actively pursued those women. I rarely saw any of them twice, and in some twisted way, those conquests had charged me with energy and ambition, driving me to focus intensely on climbing to the top of my profession and accumulating wealth.

"Was I happier then?" I wondered, running a hand through my hair. "Or just less aware of the emptiness?"

Yes, everything changed when I got married and tied myself to Bella. From that point forward, everything became unclear and troubled in my life. True, I became extremely wealthy during that time, but not because I had found stability or genuine love. Rather, it was because Bella had dedicated herself to fulfilling my deepest desires—especially after Gerard entered our lives and complicated everything further.

"What a mess that turned into," I sighed, remembering the chaos of the past few years.

I snapped myself out of these memories of my old days. It was time to move forward, not backward. I decided right then to truly start over again—to reinvent myself once more, but hopefully as a better man this time. I smoothed down my suit jacket and checked myself in the mirror hanging in the hallway, then left my room with new determination.

"Tonight is about relaxation and forgetting the past," I told myself firmly. "No complications."

Walking toward the elevator, I suddenly heard the distinctive sound of high heels clicking rhythmically against the marble floor of the corridor behind me. The enticing scent of an expensive perfume—something floral yet musky—drifted past, compelling me to turn my body to see who this elegant woman might be.

"Probably someone actually age-appropriate," I thought wryly.

My eyes landed on her, and I quite literally dropped my jaw, completely shocked and momentarily dumbfounded by the transformation before me. The woman approaching was breathtakingly beautiful, with dazzling wide blue eyes enhanced by subtle makeup, and a perfect curvy figure showcased in a form-fitting black dress that left little to the imagination. Her previously hidden curves were now on full display, accentuated by the dress's design, and her long hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders. I found myself staring appreciatively at her rounded, perfect figure as she walked confidently toward the elevator.

"Holy..." I whispered under my breath, suddenly feeling like a teenager again.

I couldn't believe it was her—the same girl from the room next door who had been wearing baggy sweats and throwing vases at my head just an hour ago! The transformation was nothing short of miraculous.

"You!" I exclaimed, raising my eyebrow in surprise and obvious appreciation. "Is that really you?"

"Were you expecting someone else in this hallway?" she replied coolly.

She threw me an appraising up-and-down look, assessing my own formal attire, then dramatically flipped her long hair in an exaggeratedly sexy way that seemed almost like a parody. She said from the tip of her nose with obvious sarcasm before stepping toward the elevator, "Yes! It's me—the girl with the tiny boobs. Amazing what a good push-up bra can do, isn't it?"

"I deserved that," I admitted with a chuckle. "And I was clearly wrong about the, um, size situation."

I opened my mouth, trying to formulate something clever to say—not to apologize for offending her earlier, which I probably should have done, but rather to open up a more pleasant conversation. The woman was absolutely stunning in her evening attire, and I couldn't deny my attraction. The flames of sexual desire that I had believed had died inside me years ago suddenly roared back to life from somewhere deep and primal.

"You look incredible," I managed to say as we both waited for the elevator. "That dress is perfect on you."

"Save it," she replied flatly.

I had to taste her lips again, to feel her body against mine—that was what my mind kept insistently repeating, and my body was responding accordingly. It had been a long time since I'd felt such an immediate, powerful attraction to someone.

"Would you like to join me for a drink downstairs?" I asked hopefully.

As the elevator doors opened, I stepped forward to enter, only to be physically pushed back by her hand on my chest. "No, not with me. Take the next one."

"Excuse me, but it's not your personal elevator," I grumbled, genuinely annoyed by her continued hostility. "This is a public hotel, and I have every right to use this elevator too."

"Are all doctors this entitled?" she asked sweetly.

She shook her head firmly, her expression leaving no room for argument. "I said no. Don't step in with me. Got that? I've had enough of you for one evening."

I found myself growing frustrated with her attitude. Who did she think she was to dictate who could use the elevator? I grabbed her wrist in what was probably too strong a grip, pulling her slightly toward me. "Listen up, girl. I absolutely hate rude behavior like yours. Do I look like I'm your age? I'm significantly older than you—probably close to your father's age! So a little respect here is required. You don't own this hotel or this elevator."

"Let go of my wrist right now," she said calmly but firmly. "Or you'll regret it."

She surprised me by not pulling away immediately or becoming frightened by my admittedly inappropriate behavior. Instead, she blurted out quite matter-of-factly, "Well, for your information, you're not the same age as my father at all. My father is seventy-two. And I'm not underage as you keep implying—I'm twenty-eight years old. Besides, I'm not 'young' and you are not 'old' in the grand scheme of things. And actually, physically speaking, you're exactly the type of man I'm typically attracted to. That's why I was trying to avoid being alone in an elevator with you after what just happened in my room."

Her honest words completely surprised me, leaving me momentarily speechless. I released her wrist immediately.

"Twenty-eight?" I repeated, genuinely shocked. "I thought you were barely twenty."

And honestly, I was beginning to realize she wasn't simply rude as I'd assumed. She was being cautious and setting boundaries with a man who had already violated her privacy once. I was the one who had been shameless, repeatedly crossing lines as if I owned the right to every woman's attention or body.

"I need to be better than this," I thought to myself seriously.

Before either of us could speak further, and while we were still awkwardly glaring at each other in the doorway of the elevator, a young man who appeared to be in his early twenties approached with a scantily-clad woman hanging on his arm. They were clearly dressed for the hotel's nightclub, both slightly intoxicated already.

The young man's eyes widened in recognition when he saw my elevator companion, and he dramatically faked an exaggerated gasp. "Oh my God! T! Is that really you? Don't tell me you're here chasing after me again? I told you weeks ago, I have a new girlfriend now." Then he deliberately wrapped his arm possessively around the other woman's waist, pulling her closer. "You need to move on already."

"I'm here on business, Ryan," she replied stiffly.

He had called her "T"—a nickname, obviously. What was her actual name? I wondered briefly. But more pressing was the obvious discomfort on her face and the intentionally humiliating tone the young man was using. I immediately disliked him and his arrogant attitude. He reminded me uncomfortably of myself in my younger days, if I'm being honest. But even at my worst, I wouldn't have publicly humiliated a woman like this. She didn't look anything like the casual hookups I used to pursue—there was an intelligence and dignity about her that set her apart.

"Is this your dad?" the young man asked with a smirk, nodding toward me. "Had to bring a chaperone this time?"

I immediately decided to intervene, stepping slightly in front of her protectively. "T! Do you actually know this immature asshole? I specifically told you not to waste your time talking to guys like him." I turned toward the young man with obvious disdain. "And look at his tacky date! Damn, I guess with her size, he probably loses his tiny dick inside her completely. She might accidentally swallow him whole if they get too close."

The young man's face turned bright red with anger. "Who the hell do you think—"

"Let's go, Ryan," his date interrupted, pulling him away. "They're not worth it."

To my delight, T broke into the most breathtaking smile I had ever seen, transforming her entire face. It was genuine and warm, reaching all the way to her eyes, and it quite literally stole my breath away. As if my heart actually fluttered in my chest like some lovesick teenager's.

"That was amazing," she whispered as the other couple stalked off. "Thank you."

Feeling suddenly bold and protective, I gently pulled her closer to my chest and ran my fingers through her silky long hair. My other hand moved to caress her cheek tenderly, an unexpectedly intimate gesture that surprised even me. I leaned toward her lips and whispered sincerely, "You look absolutely gorgeous tonight. Far too beautiful for someone like him."

Then, without thinking twice about the consequences or the fact that we had just met under the most bizarre circumstances, I kissed her soft, strawberry-flavored lips. The kiss was gentle, sweet, and surprisingly tender—completely unlike my usual assertive approach. I temporarily forgot about the unpleasant young man, forgot that we had just met, forgot that we were still standing in the doorway of the elevator in a public hotel.

Only our breathing and the soft sound of our lips meeting broke the silence around us.

"This is crazy," she whispered against my lips, but she didn't pull away.

I pulled back slightly after what felt like both an eternity and mere seconds, and smiled down at her flushed face. She bit her lip shyly, looking up at me with a mixture of surprise and something else I couldn't quite identify.

"Oh my God! You really saved me back there. Thank you so much," she said, glancing around nervously as if just remembering we were in public.

I looked around too, relieved to see the hallway was now empty. "Yes, he's gone. Probably took the stairs or the service elevator."

She shrugged, explaining with obvious embarrassment, "He is my ex-boyfriend. Things ended badly about six months ago, but he still likes to make me feel small whenever we run into each other. I'm sorry you got dragged into my drama."

"Don't apologize," I said genuinely. "He deserved every word."

Suddenly feeling inspired and not wanting our encounter to end, I suggested impulsively, "Would you like to join me tonight? I've reserved a table in the hotel's nightclub, and I'd love the company. I think you might run into your ex there again, given the direction they were heading, so having someone by your side might make things easier for you."

She seemed to consider this for a moment, weighing her options carefully. I fully expected her to decline after everything that had happened between us, but she speedily agreed, surprising me yet again. "Yes, sure. I'd like that, actually. Safety in numbers and all that."

"Really?" I asked, genuinely surprised. "After how I behaved earlier?"

"Let's call it a fresh start," she suggested. "But one more inappropriate move and I'm out of there, understood?"

"Completely understood," I nodded seriously.

I carefully wrapped my arm around her waist, and we walked side by side toward the elevator that had finally arrived. As we stepped inside, I couldn't help leaning closer to her ear and asking a question that was probably still inappropriate but less extreme than my earlier behavior, "So, were you and Ryan serious? I mean, were you...intimate with him? I'm just curious because you seem very different from him, and you come across as somewhat reserved and—"

She gave me a sidelong glance that I couldn't quite interpret, but then she again surprised me with her candid response. "I'm still a virgin, if that's what you're asking so awkwardly. Ryan and I dated for about three months, but we never slept together, which was a major source of contention between us."

"Oh," I replied, genuinely taken aback by her honesty. "I wasn't expecting such a direct answer."

"I'm a straightforward person," she shrugged. "I don't see the point in playing games."

"I appreciate that," I said sincerely.

Okay, that revelation was somehow both surprising and exciting to me, though I wasn't sure why it should matter. The thought that she had maintained her boundaries despite pressure from her ex made me respect her more, and I found myself intrigued on multiple levels by this complex, contradictory woman.

"You're full of surprises, T," I said as the elevator doors closed. "I think this might be an interesting evening after all."