“Well, I said it was not bad, and for the record, he didn’t die,” Jonnas said.
She stared after the surgical team. “No, he didn’t.” She walked into the elevator, looking back at Jonnas, and he smiled at her—actually smiled. She wondered what the hell that was all about until he called after her.
“I think you’re going to do great here, Mia,” he assured. The doors closed before she could tell him that she wasn’t sure that she’d use the word “Great”. Her new boss didn’t seem like the kind of man who liked to have his doctors disagree with him. But Mia was pretty sure that she wasn’t ever going to get used to working trauma—no matter how prepared her boss thought she was
Two days later, Mia was halfway through a twelve-hour shift when she stepped into the ICU. The patient from the accident had survived surgery, but he had three broken ribs, a shattered femur, a concussion, and multiple lacerations. But he was alive. The chart hanging outside his room made her pause. It said that his name was Graham Calloway, and she wondered if he was the Graham Calloway who was all over the papers lately. If he was, then she had just saved the life of a billionaire. That was a first.
Mia stepped inside the quiet room, noticing the sunlight that spilled through the windows. Machines hummed softly around her, and she looked down to find that Graham Calloway was awake. His dark eyes met hers instantly. He had the kind of gazethat would make most people nervous, but she didn’t feel that way around her patients.
Mia walked to the bedside. “Good morning.”
His voice was rough. “You must be the doctor who refused to let me die.”
She smiled despite herself. “That’s generally our policy.” One corner of his mouth lifted, and the expression transformed his face, making him look younger and dangerously attractive. That was ridiculous, though, since the man was old enough to remember dial-up internet.
“I’m Dr. Amelia Bennett,” she said, checking over his chart. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got hit by a truck,” he joked.
“That’s a good guess, but there was no truck. Luckily, it was just your car involved in the accident.” His eyes studied her intently. As if he was committing every detail to memory. Mia had experienced that look before. Usually, from patients who were angry or confused. But this felt different.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, “for saving my life.” The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard.
“I was just doing my job,” she insisted.
“No.” His voice deepened. “From what I hear, what you did went above and beyond what you usually do in the ER. Thanks for not giving up on me.” The room suddenly felt smaller, warmer, and more intimate.
Mia cleared her throat. “You should focus on recovery.” She needed to change the subject before she said something sappy that she wouldn’t be able to come back from. She was trained to keep her emotions out of treating patients, but that seemed nearly impossible for her. Her mother liked to say that she wore her heart on her sleeve, and she was right.
“I’ll do that,” he promised. His gaze never left her face. “After I properly thank you.”
She laughed softly. “There is no need to thank me,” she insisted. The billionaire looked genuinely offended.
“Doctor Bennett, you saved my life,” he said.
“Then focus on getting better. That’s how you can thank me,” she said.
His eyes warmed. “Yes, ma’am.” For reasons she couldn’t explain, that made her smile, and as she left the room, she noticed Graham Calloway watching the door long after she disappeared down the hallway. She also tried to ignore the fact that for the first time in since going into medicine, she was looking forward to tomorrow when she’d make her rounds again to see the man who was quickly becoming her favorite patient.
Graham
Graham Calloway hated hospitals. The smell alone was enough to put him in a bad mood. They smelled like bleach, and the constant beeping of machines nearly drove him crazy. His biggest problem with hospitals was that being in one showed weakness, and he hated that most of all, because right now, weakness was exactly what had him trapped in a hospital bed.
Every breath hurt thanks to the cracked ribs. His leg felt like someone had shoved a hot poker through the bone, and his head still pounded hard enough to make light feel like a weapon. But none of that irritated him nearly as much as being forced to stay still.
He stared out the window of the ICU room, his jaw clenched. “Sir?” Graham looked over to find his assistant lingering nervously near the door. Martin had worked for him for fifteen years and still looked terrified of him half the time.
“Yes,” he breathed.
“Your board is requesting an update,” Martin said. Of course they were. The vultures were probably circling already, trying to figure out whether the billionaire businessman was finally weak enough to push out of his own company.
“Tell them I’m alive,” Graham said flatly.
Martin hesitated. “That’s all you want me to say?” he asked.
“That’s all there is to say,” Graham insisted.
His assistant nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.” Before Martin could leave, the door opened, and suddenly, Graham stopped caring about business altogether. Dr. Amelia Bennett walked into the room wearing navy scrubs and exhaustion beneath her eyes, but God, she was beautiful. That was the first coherent thought he’d had in nearly twenty-four hours.