Page 21 of Dr. Roz Harrington
Sam’s smile widened, but she didn’t reply, her hand continuing its slow, deliberate movements.
The silence returned, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Roz’s mind raced, her thoughts a jumble of emotions she didn’t know how to process. She wanted to say something, to let Sam know how much she’d gotten under her skin, but the words caught in her throat. Vulnerability wasn’t her strength, and the weight of what she felt terrified her.
Instead, she deflected, her lips curving into a smirk. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”
Sam raised an eyebrow, her fingers pausing. “Help myself how?”
Roz propped herself up on one elbow, her hair falling messily over her shoulder as she met Sam’s gaze. “Coming in here, kissing me like you’ve got something to prove.”
Sam chuckled, her hand slipping to Roz’s hip. “Maybe I do.”
Roz’s breath caught, her smirk faltering as the sincerity in Sam’s voice hit her. She opened her mouth to reply, but Samleaned up, kissing her softly, and whatever she was about to say vanished.
They stayed like that, the banter giving way to a quiet intimacy that left Roz feeling exposed in a way she didn’t entirely hate. As they lay together, she realized that Sam had already done what no one else ever had: She’d broken through her walls.
The next day, Roz parked her car in the long, circular driveway of the Harrington estate, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. The sprawling mansion loomed before her, its grand façade a symbol of everything her family stood for: perfection, legacy, and control. It was a sharp contrast to the warmth she’d felt the night before in her apartment, wrapped in Sam’s arms.
Her phone buzzed on the passenger seat, pulling her attention away. A message from Sam.
Sam:“Surviving the lion’s den yet?”
Roz smirked faintly, her fingers hovering over the screen before she typed back.
Roz:“Haven’t gone in yet. Still deciding if I want to.”
Sam:“You’ll be fine. You’ve got that Harrington armor, remember?”
Roz paused, her smirk fading. Sam’s confidence in her was reassuring but also unsettling.
Roz:“I’ll let you know if I need rescuing.”
Sam replied almost instantly.
Sam:“Always on call for you, Doc.”
Roz exhaled, pocketing her phone as she stepped out of the car. The air was crisp and the manicured gardens pristine, but Roz felt the familiar weight settle on her shoulders as she approached the door.
Inside, the Harrington dining room was a study in elegance. The table was already set with gleaming silverware and fine china, the scent of Evelyn’s favorite roasted lamb wafting through the air. Roz’s mother, Evelyn, sat at the head of the table, her posture as regal as ever. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, her sharp blue eyes scanning Roz the moment she walked in.
“Rosalind,” Evelyn said, her voice clipped but pleasant. “You’re late.”
Roz forced a smile, shrugging off her leather jacket and draping it over a nearby chair. “Traffic.”
Evelyn arched a brow. “On a Sunday?”
“People still drive on Sundays, Mother.”
Catherine, Roz’s eldest sister, offered a polite but distant nod from her seat. “You’re lucky Lily’s not here,” she said. “She and Rebecca left early for their engagement retreat. You know how she hates it when you’re late.”
“Good thing she’s not here, then,” Roz quipped, sliding into her seat.
Olivia, the youngest of the middle sisters and perennial peacekeeper, leaned over to pour Roz a glass of wine. “Ignore them,” she said in a low voice. “You look good. How’s work?”
“Busy,” Roz replied, grateful for Olivia’s attempt to steer the conversation away from Catherine and Evelyn’s scrutiny.
As the meal began, the conversation flowed in predictable patterns. Catherine discussed a recent breakthrough in her cardiothoracic research, Evelyn nodded approvingly, and Olivia chimed in with anecdotes about a particularly challenging patient she’d treated. Roz remained quiet, pushing food around her plate, her mind wandering to Sam.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she glanced down discreetly.
