Page 1 of Nurse for the Russian Mafia

Chapter One

Samantha

It’s late at the end of my shift when I finally get a chance to grab a coffee. As an on-call nurse, my shifts can be pretty hectic. And today is no different. The only annoying part is the coffee machine in the break room is on the fritz. So I have to come down to the lobby and use the machine here.

I choose a cappuccino with extra sugar when out of nowhere somebody screams behind me. What the…?

My coffee spills all over the floor. Angry, I turn around, expecting it to be something melodramatic. Melodramatic things are always happening in hospital waiting rooms. I wonder if somebody is shouting at the receptionist again.

But when I see, I scream, too.

The man must be around six foot five with salt and pepper stubble covering his strong jaw. His navy blue suit screams power, hugging his impossibly wide shoulders before tapering down to his tree trunk of a waist. And I guess the shirt must’ve been white once, but now it’s covered in blood.

My eyes skate over the quickly expanding spot of blood on what’s clearly a very expensive, and likely custom made, dress shirt. My training as a nurse kicks in, telling me to visually assess his injury…but a man of his size seems indestructible, and my eyes linger a little too long on his thick chest, square cut jaw, and piercing eyes.

He limps forward, growling through his teeth.

“Sir!” I exclaim, rushing forward. I look over to the receptionist. “Get a doctor, now!”

The receptionist nods and I grab the man’s arm, helping him to sit down. My touch confirms what my eyes already told me. He’s insanely muscular. I feel the hard, marble-like knots of strength pressing through the fabric of his clothes. It’s like lightning strikes me, surging in wild hums from my fingertips right down to my toes and back again. All over my traitorous body, goosebumps form tempting me to hold on tighter. I have to remember I’m here to nurse him back to health, not to do…other things, things I might like to do. But it’s so hard not to imagine his rippling boulder-like muscles engulfing me, making me quiver with his tingling, lingering touch.

“It looks worse than it is,” he snarls. “Believe it or not, I got the better of them.”

Them. I’m guessing there was a fight, but how many were there? His accent sounds Russian. That makes me remember when I was a teenager. My dad had a friend, Alexander, and I had a major crush on him. In fact, he is the only person I’ve ever really crushed on. I haven’t seen him in two years, but I can clearly picture my father’s tall, handsome buddy with those dark green eyes…

Oh. My. God.

Those dark green eyes that I remember so well are looking at me right now.

His eyes widen as we both recognize each other. “It can’t be … Samantha? The little girl who always has her face in a book? Look at you, you’ve become a woman.”

I feel my cheeks heat and wonder if the color of my face now matches those blood splotches on his shirt.

For a second, it’s like he’s checking me out. But I tell myself not to be silly. I’m a curvy, shy introvert who never draws the attention of men, and definitely not men as evidently handsome as him. I know how rich and successful this forty-two year old stallion is. I know that he has models and socialites throwing themselves at him all the time. There’s no way he wants a plus-size twenty-one year old like me.

“I was jumped by five men this evening,” he snarls, eyes locked on me. “But seeing you, Samantha, is the first time I have-”

“Nurse?” The doctor appears, cutting off whatever Alexander was about to say.

The first time he has what?

I snap into Nurse Samantha mode, filing away my nonsense thoughts. For a few moments there, I let myself get carried away looking into his piercing forest canopy colored eyes. I imagined those muscular arms holding me and protecting me from the world. Or, better yet, those hands sliding down my full figure and finding all the best ways to please me. I thought about what it would be like to please him, too, wondering if a completely inexperienced girl like me ever could.

But no, this is all madness.

As he is taken away for an examination, I watch him go…missing him already, feeling the void he’s left in room. It’s as if the life has been sucked out of the place, which is ironic considering when he walked in it looked like he might lose his own.

His body follows the doctor down the hall, but his head stays turned…his eyes transfixed on me.

I think he’s smirking but it’s hard to tell with the blood and the stubble and the distance that now separates us.

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