Stealing The Heart Of The CEO

With tears running down my eyes, and a bottle of Pedro Ximénez Sherry to my mouth, I stared at the stack of expensive furniture outside my yard- the one I had just ordered from Fours Furniture and Appliances, the best in town. I don't know why people complain about their products being expensive though. My two couches, and three-seater, whole living room set are only worth $30,000, you see. Maybe I should remind myself that fingers are not equal. Most people don't even make that much in a whole year. I looked back at the men working outside my window. One of them, Logan, my top-tier architect, was staring at me, and when my eyes met his, he took them off me. I don't care though; I'm used to being stared at- I know how breathtakingly beautiful I am. But somehow this time, I'm sure he was not staring at me because I am beautiful. He's staring because he must wonder why I chose this kind of profession, as a woman. At least that's what everyone says to me. I reclined on my slightly plush, rocking chair, sipping directly from my Sherry, and letting those tears fall effortlessly. It had been a long day at the hospital, but now that I was finally able to unwind and relax, I just couldn't. Because I knew my phone would buzz any moment. Just as I predicted, it started to vibrate on the table before me. I picked up the ringing phone and brought it up to my ear: "Hello?" I muttered, trying to sound as professional as possible even though I didn't need to. "Doctor Melissa, this is Nurse Catherine from the hospital. We need you to come in, by late afternoon," the nurse explained, her words slurring over the other. "We have a patient who needs a heart surgery, he's been wheeled into theatre already, boss." My heart sank at the news. I can't even enjoy a peaceful afternoon alone. I shook my head, fully aware that this was my fault. They are simply following my strict instruction: 'Don't give any heart operations to any medical personnel, except I'm not around, and that's rarely ever gonna happen.' I always feel like it's solely my job- I have never had a failure at it in the five years of my profession. "Doctor Melissa?" Her voice jerked me back to reality. She's still on the phone. I took a deep breath and down the rest of my sherry before answering her. "You don't expect me to be there immediately, do you? Give me 20 minutes max," I responded, my tear-affected voice betraying me. And then I hung up, only to meet his eyes the second time. Logan was staring at me. Again. My window was wide open, so the workers outside could definitely hear me yell at my nurse. They must also be able to see my messy hair, dark circles, chapped lips, and of course the salty tears running like a stream. All they had to do was look closely enough. I cared less though. Maybe it is good if they saw it. Maybe it's high time they realized that even billionaires don't have their lives together. Only thing I hoped they won't do was call me, 'Crazy Doctor Melissa’ like my parents did, with their eyes, every freaking time. I knew I should get up, and help those people bring all of my stuff in, or at least make way for them to furnish my new apartment for me, but I remained on my seat, turning deaf ears to the knocks on my door three minutes later. I was not stoned, at least not yet, so I knew what was going on around me, but I didn't think my spirit did. Or else it should have forced my weight off the rocking chair in the-room-turned-office without further ado. I kept watching them from my side of the window, mowing my lawn and building kitchen cabinets from scratch, and every other stuff for a new house. On a normal day, I shouldn't be inside. I don't think they were aware I was inside the house, or they would say it's not okay for me to sit in a house still under construction. And I'm not sure whether I wanted it to remain like that or not. The point is, I never care about what happened, or happens to me. I was just really tired of letting the almighty heart surgeon Melissa live as the constant occupant of Room 97, in Genevieve Hotels. It's been two weeks for God's sake. I wanted my house already. ** My name is Melissa- Mel or Lisa for short- Melissa Craig until someone hooks me, and that's like almost never happening. Being me, I didn't care what happened to me. I know that's kind of cryptic to say the least, but on the surface, the only thing I seemed to care about was my patients. And even if I am to be totally honest, I really didn't care about them. I only cared about the money they filled my pockets with. Just one disbursement from one of them filled my wardrobe with the fanciest and costliest dresses you would ever find in the streets of Brooklyn and beyond. The only other thing I cared about were my containers or bottles per se. Didn't matter what was in them. I've got so many bottles in my possession I could actually supply a soft drink company if they run out of containers, without any hassle. I drank anything from tasteless to extremely sour, and I didn't care what they did to my body, as long as they could make me remember to breathe. I still didn't give a damn about many things. I didn't even care if the trainees and nurses in my hospital come late to work or turn in unsatisfactory assignments. I simply deduct a fat percentage from their pay. I don't even talk about it, or yell, because I don't have the time for it. Gone are the days when I used to care about so many things- like why my parents preferred my sister over me, and why I was pretty much invisible up till my teenage years, and now when I just hit my late twenties, everyone just suddenly knows my name. Scrap that. I actually do care because why else do all of the memories still hurt? "My doctor!" someone's voice jerked me out of my reverie. I knew who it was before I turned around. No one else had that annoyingly shrill, sarcastic voice. I was not expecting her, so I wiped my eyes to check again. "Mom?" I questioned, and she did a simple catwalk towards me. She did this thing all the time-visit uninvited, and it annoyed me. It's not actually motherly care like people thought, it’s literally something called sticking your nose in someone's privacy. Rosa's irrevocably obsessed with me. And it's not just me. She's obsessed with making me upset. Unfortunately, she's simply living up to her name-A Rosa is someone who does not show up as expected. ... but shows up at unwanted times. That's my own addition though, but it's true. "Logan told me you were sitting here," she said, putting both of her hands on my table where my bare legs are sprawled. "How is it going?" she asked, giving me the up and down look. I shook my head and got up from my seat, my butt feeling painfully repressed from sitting for too long. "Where are you going, Lisa? I am still talking," she squealed, like a pained rat. I told myself I was not going to yell at her this time like we always did. I would simply tell her for the umpteenth time to stop visiting me, and then walk out on her. Period. And that is what I did, or at least tried to do. "It is not your business, Rosa. Maybe you should stop pretending to be a normal mom and stop coming to my house... and..." I stopped halfway, shutting my eyes to catch some breath. I counted one to eleven, like Logan, my best friend told me to do, in times like this. But when I opened my eyes, she's right in front of me, sticking her nose in my face. "Look at me, Lisa. I am your mother, and you must listen to me!" she ordered, touching my chin a little too roughly. I hated to look at her face. I never did honestly. I couldn't even remember how she looked like, because I make sure not to look at her face. The only things I ever stared at were my patients' files, my gadgets, my account balance, and sometimes the writings on my bottles. They were the only worthy stuff. "I say look at me! I can't believe you are even more stubborn as an adult," she whispered, her breath brushing the nape of my neck. "I am your mother, and you will look at my face, and do what I want, even if you've got money flowing like water." I tried to turn around, but she pinned me down to the wall, giving me no choice but to look up at her. But I didn't. All the things I was trying to put behind me, lived in her eyes, and I sure as hell would do anything not to relive them. "Listen to me, Melissa, you can make all the money you want, but it will never be enough, I promise you," she whispered again, the bitter tone of her voice penetrating into my core and settling in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't let her talk to me like that in my own house. So, I barked at her, "What on earth do you mean?" My voice was so silent that I feared that she would sense the emotions behind it and think of me as weak. "Oh. You very well know what I'm talking about," she charged at me, her breath ragged. And I really did know. I wish I did not. "Let me go, mom. I have things to do at the office," I silently pleaded, pulling away my claimed hands, and to my surprise, she left my space and stepped back. But when I started to walk away, I realized that she did not step back because I asked her to. It was because Logan popped his head in the room that moment. "Doctor Melissa, do you mind me showing you around already?" He said gently, but with his eyes resting on Rosa. "Sure, why not?" I replied, following him out of the room. I didn't need to look back at my mom to know just the exact expression on her face.