Page 18 of Devilish Prince

“Honestly, I do need to think about it.” I grip the arm rests of the metal and black leather chair and push myself back upward. I have to get out of this room before I say something I’ll regret. If I call them out, put the onus on them to make the right choice, they’ll remain faithful to an evil man in a very corrupt organization. It’s the only way this has come about. I’m not stupid. And if they do that, I’m not sure I can continue working at this hospital.

So the only choice I have is to step away from this scenario and think. If I play into Gatti’s hand, I’m no better than any ofthem. If I don’t, I’m not useful to him. Right now, they’re playing a game with me, pushing me to see what I’ll do, where my breaking point is. And I have one, but even I don’t know where it is. This may be it.

“Please, take the time you need. Dr. Holder is already looking at positions around the country. We need this slot filled immediately, though, so don’t wait too long.”

The flash of despair in Dr. Holder’s eyes tells me he’s been ousted and that his job search isn’t what instigated the sudden need for hiring a new chair. He’s being forced out to make room for me, to manipulate me into doing whatever Lorenzo wants me to do, and I don’t like it. I want to apologize to him, but I hold my tongue and nod politely.

“Give me two weeks,” I mumble, then make my way out of the room and back across the hospital.

I have a surgery to perform, which I may not be able to manage under the circumstances. I knew the Gattis were connected, but I didn’t realize how much so. And I never thought for a second they’d be able to intimidate or bribe the entire hospital board to forcibly oust a sitting chair in order to make space for me. The level to which they will go to have what they want scares me, and the fact that it’s me they want is even more scary. Why am I their target?

As I scrub in for surgery my mind continues to obsess about Lorenzo and his father. If I disobey them, refuse the position and the arrangement between me and Lorenzo, will they kill me? Will they kill Calvin? To what lengths will they go to ensure I obey their orders? Will they come after me in public, or in the dead of the night when I’m locked in my home thinking I’m safe?

“You okay, Doc?” a nurse asks from beneath her mask. She holds a towel and a pair of gloves ready for me.

“Uh, yeah,” I tell her, realizing I’m so distracted that I never even saw her walk into the scrub room. The front of my gown is doused in water and my hair is disheveled. In ten seconds she has me gloved, masked, with a fresh hair cover on and a fresh gown tied on, along with another pair of gloves.

It’s time for me to do my job, which means I can’t think about this anymore. I enter the operating theater ready to push it all away, and as I walk up to the table I see our patient just as the nurses begin rambling off the stats.

“Patient is male, forty years old, presented with pneumothorax, gunshot wound to the chest. BP is ninety over sixty and dropping, pulse ox is at seventy-two, ready for extraction.” I nod at her, now fully focused.

“Scalpel,” I tell her, holding my hand out, and with that I’m in my element. This is where I’m meant to be, in an operating room, not behind a pearly white desk. I can’t take that job.

I just don’t know how to tell Lorenzo that.

12

LORENZO

Heads turn as I walk through any door, but at this hospital even more so, especially after being seen in very public venues with Sofia on my arm. The ladies at the information desk don’t even bat an eyelash at me walking straight past security, but the men with badges don’t take too kindly to it. Norm follows at a close distance but keeps his weapon hidden, as do I. There’s no need for violence.

“Mr. Gatti, only approved hospital visitors may come on the property.” One of the guards stands with shoulders squared and chest puffed out, as if he intimidates me or thinks he can stop me.

I chuckle at his bravado, though, because any man who will put the honor of doing his job correctly in front of the sense of self-preservation innate to all human life deserves a pat on the back. I raise my hands in surrender and take a step back to slide my cell phone from my pocket. I press speed dial for Mr. Kline and wait.

“Dr. Kline, what is it?”

“Dr. Kline, this is Lorenzo, calling for a visit. Please speak to your security officials.” The line clicks before I even get a chance to continue and both of the guards glance at each other as I slide my phone back into my pocket. In a matter of seconds, the first one reaches for his phone, buzzing in his pocket. He lifts it to his ear and only just lets the call connect before his face grows pale.

“Uh, yes, sir,” the man mutters before ending the call and pocketing his phone. “Right through here, Mr. Gatti.” He gestures past the turnstiles and metal detectors and I smile in satisfaction. Eventually people get the point and I wish I didn’t have to play games with them, but they all learn one way or another.

“He’s with me,” I tell them, jerking my chin upward in a gesture aimed at Norm. They allow him to come along, though I can see the hesitancy in their expressions. It’s not every day the prince of the largest organized crime syndicate visits the hospital, but today isn’t a normal day.

Sofia hasn’t answered or responded to my calls in a week and she even gave Norm the slip for three days in a row, which means I’m not upholding my promise to protect her, and my attempts to prove how well my protection works have been thwarted. I won’t have a loose cannon going off and bringing me down, so if I have to waltz into her place of work and make her listen to me I will. If it weren’t for the brother as a liability, I’d just sit on her couch and wait for her to come home. This way seems better though, because everyone will see me approach her. I have her figured out. This will be far more effective.

Making my way through the hospital toward the surgery unit, I realize I’m not certain of her schedule. So I make a stop near the nurses station on the fourth floor where I know the operating theaters are. A sweet nurse with a name badge that reads “Greta”sits behind the desk typing away at the computer. When she looks up at me with a smile that quickly turns to a trembling grimace, I know I’m in the right place.

“Hello,” I say, pretending to squint to read her name tag, “Greta. I’d like to see Dr. Sofia Carter. My name is?—”

“Oh, I know who you are,” she stutters and licks her lips, then forces a smile. “We’ve heard a lot about you.” Her hand shakes as she reaches for the mouse and uses the scroll wheel to navigate the page. Her eyes flick over the computer screen and she nods a few times. “Dr. Carter is coming out of theater three. She has post-op checks for the rest of the day.”

“Amazing how just a simple request can be followed so easily. Thank you, Greta, for restoring my faith in humanity. Which way to theater three?” I ask, straightening my tie. The woman is still trembling as she points to my right and I bow from the shoulders as a gesture of thanks. If only everyone knew and understood who I am the way sweet Greta does, things would go much easier for people.

Norm starts to follow me, but I put a hand out, stopping him. He stops in place and I know he’ll be there when I return. I head toward the operating theater where I’ll find Sofia and wait. Several nurses come out, a few of them still with masks. I see a patient being wheeled out on a gurney at a different door and know it’s only a matter of time before Sofia comes out too. I glance at my watch. I don’t have time for this, and I almost storm the gates when she pushes open the door with a look of shock.

“Lorenzo? What are you doing here?” She glances around furiously and grabs my arm, pulling me into what looks like a washroom. There are two large sinks and racks full of towels, gowns, and different surgical supplies.

“Well you aren’t being very transparent about your decision or even your whereabouts at times, so I thought it prudent to visit you here. You realize that the agreement has not been terminated, and for a woman who is dating me, you aren’t acting like it.” She releases my arm and I smooth the wrinkles from the sleeve of my jacket.

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