Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Only two words are spray-painted across my locker door, but they’re hurtful enough for bile to race to the base of my throat.
Dr. Killer
After shoving my purse into my locker, I scrub at the thick red paint with the cuff of my scrubs. The slur doesn’t budge an inch. It remains as red as my cheeks when a familiar voice calls my name.
There’s no hiding the frustration on my face this time, so I don’t bother removing it before twisting to face the voice.
Dr. Sidorov takes one look at my burning cheeks and wet eyes before he demands the emptying of the locker room with two curt words. “Get out.”
Once it is devoid of snickering laughter, he stops next to me before asking, “Who did this?”
“I don’t know.” I lower the rudeness in my tone to a manageable level before saying, “It was like this when I arrived.” With my hurt higher than my morals, I ask, “Why didn’t you inform me Dr. Abdulov is missing?” I almost say dead, but once again, I can’t force my heart to admit to Maksim’s crimes, even with him and my head having no qualms about doing the same. “I only found out when I was bombarded by two detectives yesterday afternoon.”
He appears confused. I understand why when he says, “I was unaware of your involvement in his disappearance.”
“I’m not involved…” My words trail off when I follow the direction of his gaze. He is staring at my wedding rings, which calls me out as a bigger liar than my head. I hide them by folding my arms over my chest before saying, “I just thought you would have informed the hospital staff of his dea… disappearance.”
“It isn’t something that needs to be openly discussed right now. The authorities are looking into his disappearance, but that doesn’t mean it will be ruled foul play.” His eyes bounce between my sweaty top lip and my crinkled brow before he asks, “Is there something you need to disclose, Dr. Hoffman? You seem a little skittish.”
“I’m fine. I just…” My voice is full of a shame it doesn’t deserve to hold. “Can this wait? I-I should probably get out there. It’s pretty hectic.”
“I don’t see that being an issue.” Once again, the ease of his tone doesn’t match his pinched brows and soured expression. However, I’m too eager to skip his interrogation to investigate them further.
After ripping off my engagement and wedding rings responsible for my sloshy stomach and placing them next to the credit card that hasn’t budged an inch in almost a week, I make a beeline for the exit.
When I break into the corridor, I think I am in the clear of more controversy.
I couldn’t be more wrong.
Maksim’s absence was felt this morning, but I had no idea that was because he wasn’t home. He’s speaking with two of the bigwigs of Myasnikov Private, and his commanding aura is noticeable even from a distance.
My throat works through a stern swallow when he suddenly stops talking and cranks his neck my way. I consider running until I realize the only direction I can take is past him. I’m in the open, so I am safe from being turned into putty by the hands and mouth of a genius, but you wouldn’t know that when Maksim’s eyes land on my empty ring finger.
He works his jaw side to side before he slowly, almost murderously so, returns his eyes to my face. His unspoken demand for me to place my rings back on is heard over the constant page of doctors being requested at the ER, but when a code blue sounds from the same ward, I act as if I am blind.
I sprint past him along with a handful of doctors, sighing when he doesn’t stop me from doing the job I was destined to do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Although the graffiti on my locker was scrubbed off by the time I returned from a double shift, even now, four days later, I’m still scalded with squinted glares and cold shoulders during the short trek across the assigned space for doctors to get ready in.
I assumed their narrowmindedness was because they’d heard about my run-ins with Dr. Abdulov in the weeks leading to his disappearance. However, I learned otherwise when I read the numerous headlines Myasnikov News has been running this week.
Instead of keeping readers abreast about three missing men, they’ve run a week-long feature on my nuptials with Maksim. Numerous images in their three-page spread included the videos and stills I stole from Zoya when I airdropped them to my cell phone.
To anyone outside of the Bratva world, I look like a gushing, loved-up bride.
From the response of my colleagues, I was the only fool unaware of what the Ivanov name represented when I assessed Maksim’s mother.
I stop staring into space when a kind voice asks, “Are you all right?” When I peek out from behind my locker door, Alla props her shoulder onto the doorjamb of the locker room and then offers me a contrite smile. “Don’t let the haters get to you. Half of their snickers are because they’re insanely jealous. He didn’t shut up about you the entire time he was touring what will be the new wing earlier this week.” An expression crosses her face I can’t quite work out. “The way he growled ‘my wife’ any time you were mentioned… damn, girl. I almost fainted.”