Page 41 of Savage Seduction

I nod.

A silence once again falls between us, but this time thetension is sexual. The warmth from Ben’s body tugs at me, causing me to second-guess my decision to go home alone. Ben reaches for my chin, tilting my face upwards toward his. Our eyes meet before I close them, hoping Ben will close the gap between us and kiss me.

Only a moment passes before my wish comes true. Ben’s soft, full lips press against mine. The heat between us intensifies. I part my lips, allowing Ben’s tongue to push inside.

“Sir,” a female voice comes from the direction of the restaurant doorway. “You forgot your meals!” She hollers as she continues talking towards us.

We pull away from each other, all smiles and light. Ben hurries over to the girl, takes the to-go bag and thanks her. He comes back and hands one of the meals to me.

“Thank you,” I say. “I’m sorry again about tonight.”

“Don’t be.” Ben wipes away a little wetness left behind by me on his chin.

“I’ll call you,” I say.

“Another promise?” he asks.

“Absolutely.” I get into the car and close the door. Waving to him as I back out of the parking space, I slowly pull away into the bustling Los Angeles night. Ben is truly a great guy.

CHAPTER 17

Ben

As I step through the sliding doors of Los Angeles County Hospital, the familiar scent of antiseptic wash and the low hum of hurried conversations set my nerves on edge. My mind is still reeling from last night’s dinner with Max—a night that should have been a celebration of our growing intimacy but ended in an emotional whirlwind. His accidental revelation of the scar on his abdomen earlier in the week, a mark of past violence and suffering, lingers in my thoughts, igniting a storm of emotions I hadn’t anticipated. Last night I wanted to ask him about it. Try and see if I could pull some more information from him without looking into the medical record, but that didn’t happen.

I navigate the bustling corridors to the office of Dr. Elijah Moore, the second Chief of Surgery our hospital employs as the major trauma center in Southern California, and my trusted mentor. The weight of my uncertainty grows with each step, the image of Max’s distraught face haunting me. I need guidance, and Dr. Moore, with his decades of experience and wisdom, is the only one I can turn to.

I knock softly on his door, which swings open to reveal him seated behind his desk, surrounded by stacks of medical journals and patient files. His face, usually a beacon of calm, brightens as he looks up.

“Ben, come in. What brings you here so early?” he asks, his voice tinged with concern. “Please don’t tell me you’ve finally been swept off your feet by the swanky new medical plaza down the way?”

“No, nothing like that,” I say as I take a seat across from him, the leather chair cold and unwelcoming. “It’s about something personal...and well, I guess somewhat professional,” I begin, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

Dr. Moore leans forward, his hands clasped together. “I’m all ears, Ben. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

I recount how I met Max, the connection we formed, and the joy his presence has brought into my life. Dr. Moore listens intently, nodding in approval and smiling at the happiness in my voice. He and his wife have tried setting me up with multiple guys in the past, mostly his wife’s doing, but nothing ever fit. Not like me and Max. But as I delve into the events of last night, his expression turns thoughtful, concerned.

“Max revealed a scar, quite accidentally,” I explain, my voice faltering as I picture the scene again. “It was the way he reacted...and the scar itself. The size and details of it seemed familiar, Elijah. Disturbingly familiar.”

His brow furrows. “We see scars all the time, Ben. It’s part of our job. What makes this one different?”

“It’s not just the scar,” I press on, feeling the weight of my suspicions. “It’s the way it was sutured. I think... I think it might be my work. From a surgery I performed years ago, under traumatic circumstances.”

He sits back, his face shadowed with concern. “Ben, many people are sensitive about their scars. But you're seeing thisthrough a surgeon's eye. To you, it's a professional curiosity; to him, it's a personal ordeal. No doubt he’s also got some unresolved trauma there. If the scar is as big and traumatic as you’re saying, there’s more to this than simply an embarrassing wound.”

“But there’s even more to it than that, Elijah,” I insist, leaning forward, my hands shaking slightly. “The night of The Butcher of Los Angeles’s last known attack—I was the surgeon who operated on a young police officer brought in nearly dead. I can’t shake the feeling... What if that officer was Max?”

Dr. Moore’s eyes widen slightly, a mix of surprise and realization dawning on him. “You think Max might be that officer?” He sighs. “What are the chances?”

“I’m not sure, but the resemblance of the scar...” My voice trails off, the implication of my words hanging heavily between us.

He sighs deeply again, his demeanor shifting from mentor to confidante. “What are you asking of me, Ben?”

“I need to know if my hunch is correct before I approach Max about this. It could change everything for us. I don’t want to dredge up a painful past if I’m wrong. That would just be cruel.”

He nods slowly, understanding the delicacy of the situation. “You know this is against hospital policy, Ben. Accessing old records without direct cause…”

“I know, and I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t absolutely necessary,” I reply earnestly. “I need to be sure, for both our sakes.”

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