“Your father is doing well, Mr. Foster. He can go home whenever he’s ready.” The young resident doctor adjusts his Harry Potter glasses. He looks down and checks his chart for the seventh time. I’m beginning to think he’s purposely avoiding eye contact.

“I’ll take him home tonight,” I say. “We’ve already hired a home care nurse to make sure he at least tries to stay healthy.”

“I’m right here,” Pop says, stirring in his bed. I tried to keep the conversation quiet, but the man has the hearing of an elephant. He puts his palms on the bed and pushes himself up to a sitting position. “I don’t need your nurse. I’m not some invalid.”

“Pop, just stay in bed, okay? You’re still weak.”

“Bullshit,” he says as he gets up to his feet.

“You’re an old man. Act like it. Maybe if you rest more you can go back to work sooner.” I look at the doctor and ask, “So when can he start working again?”

The doctor fidgets nervously, his fingers adjusting and playing with the stethoscope hanging around his neck. “I wouldn’t recommend going back to work. Perhaps this is a good time to consider retirement.”

“Hah! Retirement, schmetirement,” Pop shouts in a loud voice, making the doctor flinch in surprise.

I roll my eyes.

Sure, Pop has an infamous reputation. Back when he was young, he was involved in quite a few illegal activities. But, over the years, as he grew his wealth, he gradually took himself out of those risky businesses.

Now all our family dealings are completely legal. We don’t have thugs anymore. And even way back when, it wasn’t like he’d beat up a physician who’s only trying to heal him. That would be like punching himself in the face.

“You mean temporarily, right?” I ask the doctor.

“Well…” His voice trails off as his eyes focus a little too hard on the chart in his hands.

“Of course that’s what he means,” Pop says brusquely.

I draw a deep breath. “Pop, let the man talk, will you?”

He grunts as he grabs his jacket from the back of a chair and puts it on. As he passes us by on his way toward the door, he says. “There’s nothing more to talk about here. I’ve been out of the office for way too long already. I’ll wait for you in the car. And I’ll see you at the office on Monday.”

Pop slams the door on his way out, leaving me alone with the doctor in the hospital room. Again, the doctor flinches from the loud noise, even as he heaves a sigh of relief.

“You were saying…?” I prompt him to pick up the conversation from where we left off when Pop had interrupted us.

“Yes. Uh, many seniors… I mean, many people your father’s age don’t work and this is precisely why. A seventy-year-old’s body is just not built to handle that much stress.”

“So you think he should stop working as soon as possible?”

“That is what I would recommend, correct. If he goes back to work and gets under a lot of stress, he could suffer another bad episode, or a worse one,” he says as he shifts his round-framed glasses.

We exchange the necessary greetings and the doctor leaves.

I drag air into my compressed lungs. My own body feels heavy with worry and responsibility. If Pop retires, what does that mean for the family business?

Yes, between Cole and me, I’ve always been the one who works harder, who knows the business better. But I’ve also always expected Cole to inherit the business when the time inevitably comes.

I don't know why I’d think that, considering how badly Pop and Cole get along. Maybe it’s just something my mother used to say. I don't know.

I guess I used to think Pop and Cole would gradually learn to play nice. Or maybe I didn't think much of it, assuming it wasn't going to happen any time soon. Yet, here we are.

I scan the room to check for anything Pop may have left behind. Aside from the duffel bag he has packed and left by the bed, there's nothing.

As I enter the ensuite bathroom to give it a quick once-over, I hear soft footsteps walking into the adjoining bedroom. I rest my hand on the door frame and see who it is.

When I spot that ponytail of honey-blonde hair and that bubble butt in the pants of her scrubs, I can't believe my eyes. Finally, my night is looking much better.

I quietly step into the hallway, fixing my gaze on her as she fiddles with the medical equipment by the bed. I close the door that opens to the hallway to get some privacy. Daisy’s not going anywhere now, not until I let her.

She turns around at the click the latch makes as it slides into place, enclosing the two of us in this private space. I watch the surprise register in her green eyes when she realizes she's trapped in this room with me.

“Hello,” I say with a smirk. “I didn't expect to see you tonight.”

“Me neither,” she says with a surly expression. Without using any rude words, she manages to convey just how much she doesn't want my presence here. What's interesting to me is a spark of want in her eyes, like she wants me but she hates herself for feeling that way.

But, why?

I know people who need money. They come into my office every day, trying to convince me to part with my money. Too bad for them, I can spot them from a mile away

Daisy is one of those people who need money. I like to think I’d be helping her get through a rough patch with my offer.

As far as I know, nurses in San Francisco get paid well. But if Daisy has to moonlight as a lingerie waitress, then she's not really in a position to say no to $100,000.

I wonder if she has a bad overspending habit to support. Maybe there’s a maxed-out credit card or two that she’s struggling to pay off.

Either way, she should be jumping and clapping by now, or giving me a smile, at the very least.

Besides, I can tell I’m not the only one who can feel the crackle of electricity between us. By the way she reacts to my touch, I know she’s desperate for more.

Yet, there she is, looking at me like I’m responsible for spreading the plague throughout the hospital or something.

I take a few steps toward her.

Interesting. The closer I get, the heavier her breaths. Her cheeks fill with color.

She's thinking about walking past me and straight toward the door, but she knows that would only show me how much I’m affecting her. With every little dart of her eyes, I can almost hear her thoughts.

How can someone be so open, so easily readable, so vulnerable? It makes me want to hold her down and yank her baby-blue scrubs off just to see how she’d react.

“I should be working.” She boldly meets my gaze.

“I thought you had work to do right here. That’s why you came in here, right?” I watch as she stays silent, although her expression tells me all I need to know. She wants this too; she just can’t admit it to herself. I close the gap between us. Now we’re standing inches apart.

“Someone’s going to come looking for me,” she says, not answering my question.

“I doubt it. You’ve only been in here for a few minutes,” I say confidently. “And even if they do see you here with me, what are they going to do about it?”

She knows I’m right. I have the Chief of Medicine in my pocket. Nobody in their right mind would dare interrupt me even if I were fucking ten nurses at once in one of their rooms.

“Speaking of work, have you thought about my offer?” I ask when she continues to say nothing.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I already have a job, which I can’t just leave for a whole month,” she retorts.

“Of course you do. And I’m saying it doesn’t matter. I know how hard it is to find work in this market. You can’t lose your job and just go into lingerie waitressing full-time. To be honest, you’re not that good at it.”

I chuckle as a spark of anger flashes in Daisy’s green eyes. That only makes me want to claim her with my fingers, with my lips, with my cock. I want to see that anger turn into lust and submission. I want to break her, redirect her passion into sexual energy that I can take advantage of.

“Don’t worry about losing your job. I can make up some excuse to Dr. Pratt. He won’t say no. Not to me. I don’t take no for an answer.” I look straight at her to drive my point home. I want to make sure she knows I won’t accept a refusal from her, too.

I’ll have her, and she’ll like it. There’s no other option.

“I’d love to stay here and chat,” I say sarcastically. She’s been silent for much of the so-called conversation. “But I’m wanted elsewhere.”

I raise one hand to her cheek and caress her skin gently. I smile with satisfaction when her eyelids flutter and her head tilts ever so slightly into my hand.

I trace her lips with my thumb. They’re dry and slightly chapped. I want to lean in and run my tongue all over those pink, alluring lips. I want to claim them and crush them until they’re wet and blood-red with desire.

But this is not the time. Patience.

I can find women who’ll spread their legs as soon as they hear my name, but what’s fun about that? Daisy is a challenge. The goal of the game is to tease her and make her see that she needs this as much as I do, and to watch as her resolve breaks.

I lean closer, and she closes her eyes. I can tell she’s expecting a kiss. She won’t say no if I were to ravish those lips right now.

Instead, I hover over her shoulder. I place my mouth right by her ear. The hairs on the back of her neck rise as my hot breaths brush her skin.

“You know where to find me. I’m a businessman. I’m open to negotiation,” I whisper. “See you soon, Daisy. My little flower.”

With that, I turn around and pick up my father’s duffel bag by the bed before I leave the room. I’d loved to stay and spend more time teasing Daisy, but there’s more work waiting for me at the office.

It’s okay. I know I’ve gotten the message across. I’ve piqued her interest. She may not admit it, but she may find her panties wetter than usual today.

I want her to beg me to fuck her. I can already tell we’re going to get there, sooner or later. I just need some patience.