At the pinnacle of her career, orthopedic surgeon Ava King conquers the lucrative medical field of London.
A wild and intimate night with competitive Formula One driver James Ellis ends with Ava being stood up. The rejection leads her straight into...
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James stares at me incredulously after I utter those words.
I'm not sure why I said that. My walls are up again and I'm retreating into my corner, projecting dangerously.
He pushes me off, and throws my scrub top and bra at me.
"So what was this?" He spits.
"I just needed to make sure." I hastily get dressed. The high from our deed dissipates instantly.
"Sure of what??" He yells. "That you still have me by the fucking balls?"
"I had to make sure that this wasn't more than just sex."
"Cry me a fucking river, Ava. You and I both know this was... is more than just sex." James is already dressed and puts on his sneakers, angrily. He looks around for the first time, taking in the amount of flowers and gifts in the room. "Are you still with Gabriel?"
I shake my head. "I don't know. We... I..."
"You're like a fucking guy, Ava. I'm done with people putting you on some kind of pedestal that's too unattainable for me." He squeezes the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I fucked up in November. I get that. But I've made my feelings and intentions abundantly clear since then. I want you, Ava. I want this, us. But I'm not skulking around behind close doors. Grow the fuck up and make a decision."
James heads to the door.
"Gabriel and I aren't exactly together anymore." He slows down but doesn't turn around. "He kind of lost it when he figured out that you and I were alone together the other night at Gigi's."
James turns to face me, "So why is he sending you flowers and gifts if you're technically the one who fucked up? I mean, it's not like we were in that room singing Kumbaya."
"He lost his temper." I haven't told anyone about what happened that night.
James's frustration towards me disperses for a moment, and he tentatively walks back towards our sinful occasional chair, his facial expression mixed with concern and anger.
"Did he hurt you?" He asks softly, and my hesitation spurs him on, "because if he laid a hand on you, I swear to God, Ava, I'll—"
"I'm fine, James. He just... he shoved me against the door... and, he punched the door instead." I leave out a few points.
James's nostrils flare and it looks like his jaw is about to pop which is why his next move is so surprisingly soothing and apologetic. He cups my cheek in his palm, and looks at me softly, "Ava. You can trust me, love. If he hurt you—"
"I'm fine, James." I look away. "He didn't hurt me."
James nods and back tracks. "Wait, you're not still entertaining this cunt, are you?"
"No. I don't know. He's been asking for a chance to explain himself."
"Ava. You know better." James warns me. "You're a smart woman. Don't play with fire."
