Kissed and Conquered

Chapter Four: With Your Body, Duh

“Five million?!” Emily Harper’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, her voice hitting a pitch that could summon dolphins. “Are you insane, Dr. Brooks? That’s not pocket change—that’s a yacht, a mansion, and a private jet! Even if you loan it to me, I’ll be paying you back ‘til I’m collecting Social Security!”

“Who said anything about a loan?” Nathan Brooks flashed a grin so wicked it could’ve starred in a heist movie. He pulled a checkbook from his jacket, scribbled with the flair of a rock star signing autographs, and tossed the check to the floor like it was a used napkin. “Take it and scram.”

The lead thug, still nursing his bruised ego and ribs, snatched the check. His eyes bugged out when he saw the amount—and the signature. “Holy—You’re that Nathan Brooks? The—”

“Less talking, more walking,” Nathan cut him off, his voice colder than a January dip in Lake Michigan. “Unless you want to see how fast I can make you regret it.”

The thug gulped, motioned to his goons, and they bolted out of the dive bar faster than rats from a sinking ship. Emily stood there, mouth agape, her brain struggling to process the fact that her boss had just dropped five million dollars like it was spare change at a coffee shop.

Five. Million. Dollars. She’d seen that kind of money in movies, not in real life. And he’d thrown it away to save her deadbeat stepdad? This guy was either a saint or a lunatic.

“Well, damn, Emily!” Carl, her sleazy stepdad, piped up, his face lighting up like he’d hit the jackpot at a Vegas slot machine. “You’ve been holding out on me! If I’d known you were tight with a cash cow like this, I wouldn’t have had to take a beating!”

Emily’s teeth ground so hard she could’ve cracked walnuts. Carl’s groveling was more nauseating than the bar’s stale-beer stench. “Shut it, Carl,” she snapped, gripping the broken bottle shard in her hand like it was her last lifeline.

But Carl, oblivious as ever, ignored her and zeroed in on Nathan, dollar signs practically flashing in his eyes. “So, Mr. Moneybags, you just dropped five mil to bail out my girl without blinking. Gotta say, that’s some serious investment. You got a thing for our Emily, don’t ya?”

“Carl, I swear, one more word and I’ll turn this bottle into a shiv!” Emily waved the shard, her face a mix of fury and mortification. Carl flinched, his bravado wilting under her glare.

Nathan, however, looked like he was enjoying the show. He pulled Emily back gently, his eyes glinting with mischief as he turned to Carl. “Oh, I’m listening. Keep going.”

Carl, taking it as a green light, ignored Emily’s death stare and plowed ahead, his voice dripping with used-car-salesman charm. “Look, Emily’s the apple of our eye—me and her mom, we’ve doted on her since day one. Breaks our hearts to think of her leaving the nest. But you, sir, you’re clearly a man of taste. Dropping that kinda cash? You’re invested. So, I’m willing to make a deal—let you marry our Emily. I’ll even give you a discount on the dowry. Ten million, and she’s yours. Whaddaya say?”

Emily’s vision went red. “Carl!” she roared, her voice echoing off the bar’s grimy walls. “You tried to sell me to a gang of thugs, and now you’re pimping me out to my boss? Are you auditioning for Scumbag of the Year?”

Carl shrank back, muttering, “I’m just looking out for you, Em. You’re not getting any younger—time to settle down with a nice, rich guy like this fella.”

Emily was one second away from committing a felony. If murder were legal, Carl would’ve been toast, and she’d have danced on his grave. She gripped the bottle shard so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“Wanna let off some steam?” Nathan’s voice was casual, but his smirk was pure chaos. He stepped closer, his eyes locked on hers.

Emily shot him a look but stayed silent, her chest heaving with barely contained rage.

Nathan chuckled, then crouched down in front of Carl, pointing at specific spots on his body like he was giving a biology lecture. “Here, here, and—oh, definitely here. Poke him in any of these spots with that shard. Won’t kill him, but he’ll wish it did. I’ll take the rap if it goes south.”

Emily’s jaw dropped. As a doctor, she knew exactly what Nathan was doing—picking non-lethal pressure points that’d make Carl regret ever being born. The man was a genius. A terrifying, gorgeous genius.

Carl’s face went from smug to horrified. “You—you’re bluffing!” he stammered, but his voice shook as he caught Nathan’s dead-serious expression. This wasn’t the warm, fuzzy ER chief from St. Mary’s—this was a guy who could probably bench-press a Buick and not break a sweat. Carl’s bravado collapsed, and a telltale wet spot spread across his pants. He’d literally pissed himself.

Emily wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You’re not worth the cleanup,” she spat, tossing the shard to the floor with a clatter. “Let’s get outta here, Dr. Brooks.”

“Smart choice,” Nathan said, shooting Carl one last look that could’ve frozen lava. Carl whimpered, curling into a ball as Nathan’s lips curled into a sinister grin. “Stay out of trouble, pal. Or you’ll see me again.”

As they walked out, Carl’s eyes burned with venom, his teeth grinding so hard they could’ve sparked. “Emily Harper, you ungrateful little brat,” he muttered under his breath, glaring at the humiliating puddle on the floor. “You’ll pay for this. Mark my words.”

Back in Nathan’s sleek black SUV, Emily barely had time to buckle up before he let out a dramatic “Ouch!” and clutched his hand like he’d been shot.

“Dr. Brooks?” Emily’s heart skipped a beat.

Nathan pouted, holding out his hand with the theatrics of a soap opera star. “I’m wounded, Harper. Look at this—my poor hand’s a mess. It hurts.”

Emily leaned closer, inspecting his hand. It was strong, elegant, perfect for wielding a scalpel—but marred by a few angry red scratches from the brawl. For a surgeon, even a minor injury was a big deal. Guilt twisted her gut. “Oh, crap, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into this mess.”

“Yeah, well, I’m out of commission for a couple of days,” Nathan sighed, milking the moment. He tilted his head, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. “So, how you gonna make this right, Harper?”

“I…” Emily faltered. She couldn’t exactly whip out a check for five million, and she wasn’t about to offer her firstborn. “What do you want?”

Nathan leaned in, his face so close she could count the flecks in his irises. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “How about… you repay me with your body?”

Emily’s brain flatlined. She jerked back, her face hotter than a Texas summer. “Excuse me? That’s not funny, Dr. Brooks!”

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” Nathan purred, his lips twitching as he leaned even closer, his minty breath brushing her cheek. “You stole my first kiss, Harper. Now my hand’s busted. You owe me big time. So, what’s it gonna be? A lifetime of devotion? Or maybe just… dinner and a movie?”

Emily’s throat made an embarrassing gulping sound that echoed in the car. Nathan’s eyes widened, and then he burst out laughing, the sound rich and infuriatingly charming. “God, Harper, you’re too easy! That reaction’s going straight to my ego.”

“I—I wasn’t—!” Emily sputtered, her face now a full-on tomato. “I’m just hungry, okay? My stomach’s growling louder than a bear!”

“Hungry for me, huh?” Nathan teased, winking. “Can’t blame you. I’m a five-star snack.”

“You’re impossible!” Emily groaned, slumping back in her seat. How was this guy her boss? He was a walking HR violation with a side of narcissism. And yet, she couldn’t stop the stupid grin creeping onto her face. He’d just saved her from a gang, paid off a fortune, and now he was flirting like it was an Olympic sport.

This fake girlfriend gig was gonna be the death of her—or the start of something dangerously fun.