The Procedure (4 page)

Waving a hand in my direction, he dismissed me. “You have ten minutes to change or I’m leaving without you. And wipe off the whore lipstick.

And then he turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him and breaking away the remaining pieces of my heart.

The hurt part of me wanted to curl up into a ball and lose myself, or what was left of me, in the darkness of the night. But the part of me that desperately wanted to try and salvage the rest of the night slowly peeled the straps of my new black dress down my shoulders.

I WASN’T SURE
who put event going in my job description, but apparently, it was a part of my career. Reconstructive, or even cosmetic surgery for that matter, had absolutely nothing to do with the party going on around me except for the fact that more than half of the partygoers had been touched by my partner’s scalpel a time or two.

Downing my second drink, I sat at the bar and contemplated how I was going to escape the dreaded event. I worked a long day, performing Tori’s fourth graph surgery in the last four months. I desperately needed this one to take because I wasn’t sure how much more the eight-year-old could handle.

Her parents were starting to lose faith, and more importantly than that, so was Tori. No little girl wanted to be cooped up in a hospital or hospital bed for four long, painful months. I had a soft spot for all my patients, even more so for the younger ones, and I knew I got overly attached to them. But Tori was different from all the rest because she reminded me so much of
her
.

I checked my watch, knowing I was going to stop by the hospital on my way home to check on her one more time. Hopefully, she’d be asleep and her pain would be manageable.

Shoving my hands into the pockets of my suit pants, I surveyed the guests. My partner, Richard Stein, was sure that going to the party full of rich and powerful people would bring more clientele to the practice. Judging the women there, I was positive he wouldn’t have any problems keeping his schedule full and busy over the next few months. I was convinced he had enough clientele to last him the rest of the year.

A waiter passed with a tray stocked full of champagne glasses, and I was quick to take one off his hands. Champagne wasn’t my thing, but I figured I’d down it as I waited for the bartender to bring me my next drink. The last thing I wanted was to run into someone who was dying to just
ask a few questions
and be completely sober
.

Stein was definitely different from me—he’d perform any procedure on anyone, even if they didn’t need it. It was all about the money for him. He hadn’t always been like that, but he’d changed a lot over the last few years with the success of the practice. Miami had a way about it, with its hot, steamy weather and even hotter beach bodies that made the people so full of themselves. That included Stein. He was a good man, but the Miami life had gotten to him.

When we first started Blake & Stein, we both stood for something. We had a purpose. But now, I wasn’t sure what Richard stood for anymore, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to be able to just look away while he scheduled surgery after surgery for some uninformed young girl who thought she needed to be perfect.

I’d learned my lesson the hard way, and I wasn’t willing to perform anything on anyone who didn’t need it. I’d been that way since my first year as a plastic surgeon. Mary Sinclair was a name I’d never forget, but seeing Samantha Aldridge, another woman begging for plastic surgery, and hearing her bring up my past, stirred up emotions and memories I hadn’t thought about in a while.

Clearing my throat loudly to get the bartender’s attention, I set down the untouched champagne glass and again ordered myself a real drink.

“Jack Daniels, please,” I said to the bartender.

I turned and watched the room as I continued to wait for my drink. The dance floor was full of couples slow dancing to the soft jazz music the band was playing, but the tables were also full of chatty women and men. The loudest of the men being Michael Aldridge, a powerful attorney I’d had the unfortunate luck of meeting one too many times.

He was rude and full of himself—a different young lady by his side every time I saw him, even though the entire Miami population knew he was married. Although, on this night, he was obviously alone, which meant his wife must have attended the event with him.

I watched from afar as he laughed loudly and slapped the back of a gentleman beside him. He downed his drink, left the table, and headed toward another table. A single woman sat alone, the stark whiteness of the tablecloth sticking out since no one was at the table with her.

Her head was down and her shoulders slumped as she sipped a glass of champagne. There was something familiar about her slender frame, dirty-blonde hair, and the way she held herself, but I had yet to see her face. Michael came up behind her and gripped her shoulders, prompting her to lift her head, and her face shifted with that same weak, but brave smile.

Samantha Aldridge.

I’d been so wrapped up in my own anger over her visit and her insane plea to make her beautiful that her last name hadn’t even registered. I hadn’t even considered that she might be the wife of such a piece of shite.

The entire meeting had thrown me and my mood for a loop and to an unwanted trip into my past. A past that included a young lady like Samantha Aldridge, who had asked for something similar to her request. I’d been unfocused and grouchy the rest of the day.

Samantha Aldridge was the last person who should have been begging to have a scalpel anywhere near her body. When I walked into the room and saw her sitting there, I’d been confused by her appointment with me. And when the
real
reason for her being there was revealed, it pissed me off beyond measure.

She hadn’t done a very good job of making me understand her reasoning for being there, but now… now I understood all too well. Her husband was a walking douchebag and she was… beautiful. Entirely too good for the likes of that bloody tosser.

Her creamy skin glowed in the chandelier lighting, giving her an ethereal quality. Her long neck stretched elegantly as he whispered something in her ear.

She stood, taking his hand, and allowed him to pull her out on the dance floor. She stood out from the rest of the women around her. Her simple, cream-colored dress clung to her thighs before falling freely around her shoes. The rest of the women around her wore dark dresses and were dripping in diamonds, while Mrs. Aldridge only wore a simple, silver necklace and her silky hair pulled into a lose bun. She was exquisite and entirely too beautiful for a man like Michael Aldridge.

Her back was to me, his hand resting at her waist, and something keen to jealousy of him moved through my veins. He was obviously a git. He had a graceful woman in his arms, one that deserved to be treated as such, and yet he still stuck his knob in anything barely legal.

The music shifted and so did they, allowing me the perfect view of her face. And there she was, the same sad woman who had sat in front of me and begged me to give her something she was probably never going to have with a man like Michael Aldridge.

Her beautiful skin was paler than the last time I’d seen her. Her plump lips were pulled down. As if she were minutes away from tears, and her dark bedroom eyes were closed, holding in those tears, no doubt.

Again, Michael whispered something in her ear, and I saw her body tense. The bloody bastard was probably saying something rude. It made me hate him even more than I already did.

Just as quickly as he pulled her on the dance floor, he pulled away, leaving her standing there, embarrassed and alone. His confident swagger was eyed by envious ladies around him, making it easy for them to miss what was a clear warning to steer clear of the asshole. He made his way to the bar, toward me.

He held up his hand, signaling he was ready for another drink, and then he turned, resting his back against the bar and looking out at the dance floor. I couldn’t help myself.

“That sure is a lovely lady you were dancing with, Michael. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at an event with her before.”

He looked over at me, his expression changing into something dark. “She’s my wife.”

The bartender handed him his drink, and he took a quick swig.

“Lucky man,” I said with a smile.

He chuckled to himself. “Sometimes. Certainly not with that one, but you know what they say—it’s cheaper to keep her.”

And then he was gone, strutting across the room, smiling and flirting with any young woman who would give him the time of day, while his wife sat at a table in the corner and kept her tears at bay. Something happened to me in that moment. Maybe it was because I saw something in her eyes that brought back memories of my past.

A past that included my mother and her own personal heartbreak and hell with my father. So many times as a young boy, I’d watched her glistening tears run down her perfect face while my father belittled her. He was a good man. Good to his patients and really good to my sister and me until the day that changed us all, but my mother was never good enough.

She died when I was twenty and once we laid her to rest, I’d had enough death and I was sick of my father’s disapproval for my choice of career. “Plastic surgery,” he’d say, “is unneeded.” He said I needed to get into a real profession. Of course, what he really meant was that I should be like him.

After my mother’s death, I was on the first plane to America, leaving my father and those bad memories behind me. My father taught me a lot about my profession, but he also taught me that a lady deserved so much more, and Samantha Aldridge was a lady through and through. I could tell by her quiet sadness—her perfect posture and the innocence I wasn’t able to see the day she visited my office.

I finished my drink and started across the room to the table with the woman who had asked for my help. She wanted to be beautiful, but what she didn’t realize was that she already was. Gorgeous in fact, but thanks to her husband, she’d lost sight of her self-worth.

The young girls around her could flaunt their cleavage and thighs, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination, but Samantha Aldridge was different. She was willowy and graceful, yet full where a grown woman should be.

It had been so long since I’d been with a woman in any way. I worked a lot, and never made time for anything else. So just looking at Samantha made my fingers itch to soothe her.

When I made it to her table, she kept her head down, not realizing I was standing there. When I cleared my throat, she jumped and looked up at me. Realization of who I was filled her eyes before an embarrassed blush spread across her cheeks.

“Dr. Blake…” she started.

“Please, call me Roman.”

She swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay… Roman,” she whispered. “You’re the last person I expected to see at this kind of thing.”

“Back at you, Mrs. Aldridge.”

“Call me Samantha, please.”

I nodded. “I’ve met your husband a few times. I’m sorry I didn’t put two and two together when we met.”

Her laugh was bitter. “You’re probably the only one who can say that.”

“If you had mentioned that he was your…”

Her eyebrows lifted. “What? You’d have felt sorry for me? Changed your mind?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s a lie.”

Yes, it was
, I thought. “Now we’re even.” I smiled. “We can start over.”

A forced smile pushed across her silky, plump lips. “I’d like that.” She lifted her hand and stretched across the table, the top of her dress pulling tightly across her breasts. “I’m Samantha Aldridge. It’s nice to meet you.”

I took her hand, tugging firmly. She made a small sound of surprise, but came to her feet gracefully. Her other hand flattened against the top of the table to steady herself, and she looked up at me, confused.

“Roman Blake, and you have, in fact, changed my mind, Samantha. I’d like to help you.”