Emma.
I pushed open the heavy door to room 412 and stepped inside, the familiar sterile smell of the private wing hitting me. My scrubs still felt too tight against my skin after the drive back from home, and my hands were still a little shaky from everything that had happened this morning. I forced a professional smile and glanced at the chart before looking up at the patient.
He was already watching me.
The man in the bed was nothing like the stuffy VIP I had pictured. Late thirties, broad shoulders stretching the thin hospital gown, dark hair messy in that expensive way, and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. His eyes were a deep, piercing blue that locked onto mine the second I walked in. A slow smile curved his lips, and something about the way he looked at me made heat bloom low
