Page 73 of Intense
“Morning,” I say to Josh as he walks past me.
He offers me a strained smile in return.
Weird. Maybe he’s still hungover from Vegas.
But then I round the corner into reception, and the two nurses behind the desk just… stare. No words. Just blinking, like I’ve grown a second fucking head.
I frown, pulling out my phone and opening the camera.
No mascara smudges. No lipstick on my teeth. My hair’s fine. I don’t get it.
I keep walking, shoulders stiff, eyes forward, pretending not to care while my heart thuds like a warning shot in my chest.
As I reach my office, I grab the door handle—then stop.
Something’s off. Viscerally wrong.
And there it is.
A new plaque. Bright, gold, and sickening.
Dr. Stephanie Quinn
My stomach twists. Rage flashes hot and white in my bloodstream.
How fucking dare he.
I dig my nails under the edge of the plaque, trying to rip it off, but the damn thing won’t budge. I’m seconds from causing a scene, so instead, I shove the door open and storm inside.
The first thing I see is the black box on my desk. Beside it—an envelope.
My breath catches.
He has to be kidding.
This has gone too far. Way too far.
Rivalry is one thing. I can take the snide comments, the surgical pissing contests, even the damn leaderboard. But this? A whole-ass marriage? With that egotistical psycho?
Not happening. Not in this lifetime.
Even if he does make my heart skip and my skin flush and my brain glitch when he so much as breathes near me. Still. No.
I open the box with trembling fingers.
Holy. Shit.
That is not just a ring. It’s a goddamn statement. The diamond alone could buy my apartment building. It’s flanked by a band covered in smaller diamonds, gleaming like gilt.
There’s purpose behind it.
This isn’t a spur-of-the-moment Vegas gimmick.
These rings are a warning.
I don’t even know how he pulled the Vegas ones off, let alone this. What strings he yanked. What rules he rewrote.
And I’ve ignored him since we landed. Not one reply to his texts. I thought if I left the city and pretended it didn’t happen, we could go back to what we were. Enemies. Rivals. The cold war we waged daily in the OR.
