Page 3 of Doctor Bossy

And then, after two weeks, the calls stopped.

But sadly, that wasn’t the end of it with James McCormick.

It got much worse.

I only noticed something was off when I went into the lab the next morning. On my way in, I called out a hello to the security guard, but he gave me a funny look before he waved back. So did the receptionist when I greeted her as I punched in my time sheets. I didn’t have time to talk to anyone throughout the day, too busy writing up the results for my genetic research on leukemia, but I could have sworn there were more than a few stares at my back as I moved around.

It was so…odd.

I didn’t understand what was going on at first until my research supervisor and Director of Biochemistry called me into his office later that day.

“Hey,” I said as I walked in. “You called?”

Dr. Robinson was a small man with pinched features who resembled a rodent when he was mad. Today, he looked particularly squirrelly.

His mood was even more evident when he didn’t even bother to call out a greeting before he asked in a shaking tone, “Are you aware of the pictures of you that have been circulating the whole department?”

I frowned at him. “No. What are you talking about?”

He gestured his phone to me, and there it was—pictures of me topless with one hand obscuring one nipple and clear discomfort on my face. Pictures I had reluctantly sent to James last week only after he begged me incessantly for them and then promised to delete them. Pictures I had thought would be our little secret forever.

God, I was such a fucking idiot.

I stared at the pictures for the longest time, praying for this not to be real, for it to only be a horrible dream.

I blinked, but there it still was. ThereIwas. The pictures exposed my breasts nearly completely and a little bit of my pussy. James hadn’t wanted to miss a thing.

Even though I had my face turned to the side, it was easy to tell it was me from my build, which was exactly why I had asked James to delete them immediately. But I was apparently an idiot for trusting him.

And giving him the armor he needed to ruin my life.

That was how I found myself, at the end of the day, stupid drunk and banging on the gates of his family manor. He hadn’t been at his apartment when I got there, so I assumed he had gone home to lick his wounds or to hide. The asshole. He had leaked my nudes and gotten me fired from the lab, and he had the nerve to hide.

I banged on the gate for hours, unrelentingly.

“Don’t you dare hide from me,” I yelled. “You bastard! Open up and face me! I’ll be here all night if I have to.”

I didn’t know why I was doing what I was doing, but it made more sense than staying home and continuing to mope and drink.

I didn’t think he would open the gates at first, but then they began creeping open automatically.

However, it wasn’t James standing on the other side.

Instead, I was looking into the cool emerald eyes of a handsome giant.

Even drunk, I knew exactly who he was. Dr. Griffin McCormick himself—a highly reputable doctor and one of the most elusive geniuses of our time.

A man with the power to make or break my career in cancer research and whose word was law at the university.

A man whose virile masculinity drove me to distraction and who I couldn’t stop imagining shirtless because he filled out a suit like you wouldn’t believe.

Also known as James’ father.

2

GRIFFIN

The banging on the gate ruined an otherwise quiet and introspective night.

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