Page 56 of The Masquerade: Room 2

“Yes.” She chews on her bottom lip.

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” I lower my lips to hers, darting my tongue out to lick the seam, begging for entrance she freely gives. I could lose myself in this woman.

When I’m done with Freya’s aftercare, I watch enraptured as she slips into her clothes. She makes jeans and a simple white T-shirt look so elegant.

“My driver will take you home. He’ll be waiting out front.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Come here, little one.” I shrug on my pants and shirt, then hold out my arms to her. She gladly accepts my embrace, resting her head against my chest and listening to my heart beat wildly. “I am so proud of you. It was a pleasure to teach you this evening.”

“Thank you, Daddy. Does that mean there will be a next time?” She cranes her neck back to look up at me expectantly.

“Yes, little one. I am helpless to refuse you, even if you will not show me your face.” I lean in, pressing my lips to hers in a fervent kiss. “Mark the calendar when you get home.”

“I will. I have a lot going on at work this week, but I’ll find the time. A week and a half was far too long.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement.” I hold her tight, my stomach unsettled at having to relinquish her to the real world. There, she doesn’t know me, crave me, or submit to my commands. In reality, I am nothing to her outside of this room.

“Until next time, Daddy.” She pushes up onto her tiptoes, kissing me with the tenderness of familiar lovers, and it’s all I can do not to tie her to the bed and never let her leave. I am the one who craves to know more about her. To make her mine long past our six-month agreement.

I can’t think this way, losing sight of my raison d’être. She is not mine to keep.

“Goodnight, little one.”

“Goodnight, Daddy.” I watch as she heads for the door, leaving me bereft as I stand in my private room, the gravity of the situation hitting me like a wrecking ball. I’m getting into dangerous territory with Freya—a position I’ve never allowed myself to inhabit.

“I will be at your side the entire time, Perrington. You’re ready to fly solo. You’ve watched, assisted, and committed this procedure to memory. Take a deep breath.” We go through the rituals of scrubbing in for surgery—something we’ve done multiple times.

“Thank you, Dr. Harrison. I appreciate the opportunity.” Perrington transferred from Vanderbilt this year, blowing my other residents out of the water. I’m not sure why, but the teacher in me is eager to bestow as much surgical skill as possible.

When we’re scrubbed and ready, we enter the operating room, the nurses gowning and gloving us, the patient already sedated and properly draped for the procedure. I do find it difficult to relinquish control in my OR, but I required the same opportunities when I was a resident. If my mentor had not afforded me the chance to hone my skills, I wouldn’t be the youngest attending this hospital has ever had. You’ve got to pay it forward to create the next wave of talented surgeons.

I stand on Perrington’s left side, watching the initial cut of the scalpel and every move thereafter. The air in the operating room is tangible as everyone holds their breath.

“That’s it. You’re doing well.”

Just when I think it’s plain sailing, the monitors start beeping that obnoxious noise that tells me something isn’t right. Perrington hasn’t made a single wrong move, but every patient is different.

I kick into high gear, starting compressions and requesting the nurses to administer the necessary drugs. I can see the concern in Perrington’s eyes.

“It’s nothing you did. The procedure was flawless.”

“I… what did I do?”

She’s not listening to me. The first time operating solo is terrifying, even when everything goes to plan. When it doesn’t, most surgeons will have a moment of panic, though they’d never admit it. This can make or break a surgeon.

“Listen to me, Perrington. You did everything right. Take a beat and tell me what needs to happen next.” I don’t falter, continuing to do what’s needed for our patient.

“You should take over. I’m not sure I can do this.”

“Stop. Look at me.”

She meets my gaze, her eyes the only part of her face I can see behind the surgical mask. I speak just loud enough for her ears only.

---