by Amy Daws
“Why are you two so distracted? Did something bad happen?” I ask, mostly serious because these days you can’t joke about horrid world events.
Indie’s head snaps up. “No! They have a silent auction going and you have to text in your bid. I’ve been really fighting to win this trip to Spain.”
Camden’s head pops up next. “I’ve been fighting to win a trip to Spain!”
Booker hoots with laughter, draping an arm around the blonde. “You guys have been bidding against each other this entire time!”
Indie deflates. “How sad. I thought I was doing so well.”
“You were, Specs,” Camden coos, stroking her arms. “I’ll stop bidding and let you win.”
Her lip sticks out. “That’s not nearly as fun.” She crosses her arms to pout but then brightens as she sees something behind me. “Belle! I’m winning!”
“Yay!” Belle exclaims reflexively as she moves to stand next to where I’m seated. She assesses the table. “You all look gorgeous.”
Indie eyes Belle appreciatively. “So do you.”
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” Belle states, addressing the table full of my family, fellow teammates, and WAGs. “Be sure to go have your picture taken in the huge photo booth over there.” She gestures to the large, white, tent-like structure positioned along the side of the ballroom. “It’s unlimited photos, so have at it. Oh, they also will be live-auctioning some really cool things after a little speech that I have to give, so don’t go far!”
My brows lift. “I didn’t know you have to give a speech.”
She baulks like it’s nothing. “It’s just an introduction for Dr. Miller.”
I nod as DeWalt pipes up from the other side of the table with a question about something on his mobile for the silent auction. She moves over to help him, so I head to the bar and grab us a couple of champagnes. When I return, she’s still talking to him, laughing and looking gorgeous beside him. My jaw clenches as I try not to get my hackles up. DeWalt and I played a great match today, but I’ve still got my eye on him after that night at Welly’s.
I overhear her congratulate him on his goals from today, and I have to restrain myself from marching over there and pissing on her to mark my territory. When she rejoins me and he’s off at the bar, well out of earshot, I whisper in her ear, “Do you remember what happened last time you flirted with DeWalt?”
She cuts her black-rimmed eyes at me. “I’m not flirting. I’m being a polite hostess.”
I arch a brow. “You don’t need to stroke his ego about the goals he scored. I’m the only one really scoring here, woman.” I look down at her body with complete possession rioting through me. I lean in and my lips tickle her ear as I add, “And if you want to get fucked in my truck again, all you have to do is ask.”
She pulls back, biting her tongue to silence a retort that I can see growing to life in her eyes. Checking around us to see the coast is clear, she licks her lips and purrs into my ear, “I’d like to get fucked in a lot of places, Tanner Harris, but let’s get creative and move from your truck to say…Tower Park pitch?” Her voice rises in sexy question, and a satisfied grin breaks across my face as she nuzzles my jawline. “I want you to reenact all those goals you scored today. But instead of using a ball and a net, you’re using your cock and me.”
My dick jolts inside my trousers. It can’t be helped. I close my eyes to steel myself to be proper right now and not reveal the horny manboy my cock believes I am. This woman, I think to myself. She bewitches me. Belle Ryan is both light and dark, and all I want is to spend hours getting lost in her shadows.
Suddenly, Belle’s heated eyes turn bright as she looks behind me. “Oh, Dr. Miller, hello!” Her voice is high-pitched as she stands and reaches out to shake someone’s hand.
I remain seated for a second to try and shake the sexual stupor off of my face. I turn around in my chair just as Belle begins to introduce me.
“This is my boyfriend, Tanner Harris.”
On cue, I rise out of my chair, my dirty thoughts all but vanished after her “boyfriend” label. It seems trivial compared to everything I feel inside of me. Not an accurate representation of how I see us. Regardless, I turn and find myself towering over a small, robust woman in a matronly evening gown. I’m surprised to see that this is the woman Belle calls a baby-saving genius.
We shake hands and I detect a lilt in her American accent. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Harris. I really appreciate you and your team supporting us this evening.”
I wave her off as she head nods to everyone at the table behind me. I reply, “It’s our pleasure. I’m very proud of the work Belle does with you. She was telling me about your honoured guest this evening on our ride in the lift. What you all manage to accomplish is incredible.”
Dr. Miller smiles at Belle. “Well, we need strong, motivated doctors like Dr. Ryan to keep our work going. I have high hopes for her.”
Belle blushes and murmurs a thank you, but then her eyes fly wide toward someone off in the distance. “Is that your daughter, Reyna? And Liam?”
My gaze shifts to the couple approaching us, and I immediately zero in on the woman’s extensively inked arms. A full sleeve decorates one; a half decorates the other. While appreciating the artistry, I can’t help but notice the vast disparity between her and Dr. Miller. They aren’t your typical mother/daughter combination. It would be unusual to grow up with a mother like Dr. Miller and possess that much ink and not have a story to tell.
“Dr. Ryan, I thought it was you my mother was talking to. I just wanted to come say hello.”
The woman removes her grasp from her small bump and reaches out to shake Belle’s hand. The man does the same.
“Tanner, this is Dr. Miller’s daughter, Reyna, and her husband, Liam. This is my boyfriend, Tanner Harris.” We exchange more handshakes, and I do my best to hide the furrow in my brow over that annoying word again.
“How are you…all?” Belle asks, gesturing to Reyna’s stomach.
“We’re brilliant,” Liam answers. “We just had another scan this week and all three babies are looking excellent.”
“That’s wonderful!” Belle exclaims. “Oh, I’m so happy for you all. Dr. Miller will make the best grandmother.”
Reyna laughs. “She’ll let them get away with murder, I’m sure.” She looks at her mother. “I can’t wait.”
Dr. Miller and Reyna watch each other for a moment, exchanging some sort of silent communication that feels important. A pang hits me as I realise I’ll never know what it would be like to have a mum be a grandmother to my child. Truthfully, I’ve never thought about children much before, but the idea doesn’t terrify me like it once did.
“Great match today, mate,” Liam says, cutting into my thoughts and reaching out to shake my hand again. “You Harrises make football fun to watch.”
I nod and shake his hand. “Cheers, that’s really kind of you to say.”
Dr. Miller clears her throat, interrupting our conversation. “I was wondering if I might steal Dr. Ryan for a moment. We have a guest at the door that I sort of need her to chat with.”
“Of course,” I reply and step back to let her pass.
I can hardly believe my eyes when they land on my father standing in the foyer of the ballroom. He’s tall and overly slim as usual. But his grey hair is a bit dishevelled and his classic navy suit is wrinkled in the back.
As we approach, Dr. Miller murmurs in my ear, “He said he didn’t know he needed a ticket to get in. I thought it would be best for you to decide how we handle it. I’m perfectly happy to do whatever you’d like. I trust you completely.”
I nod as she departs, leaving me with the man who raised me.
“Father, what are you doing here?”
He spins on his heel at the sound of my voice, stumbling backwards a bit. “Belle, darling. Don’t you look regal.”
I frown. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
His eyes are glossy and I can smell the scotch
on his breath. “Well, you say I don’t support what you do, so here I am. Regrettably, I wasn’t aware that an RSVP was in order. Do you think it would be okay for me to pop in?”
I look around nervously. “It’s a fundraiser. Plates are a thousand quid a piece.”
He pulls his chequebook out of his back pocket. “Who do I make it to? You? The hospital? The paunchy bird who brought you over here?”
My eyes fly wide. “That is Dr. Miller, a world-renowned surgeon and the only reason I even exist in this profession,” I seethe, feeling the constraints of my ball gown as I suck in a large breath of air. “You will show her some respect.”
He lifts his hands up in defence. “No need to get so upset.” He says the last word in the exact tone he said it to me as a child. He rips his cheque out. “Make it to whomever. Now then, point me in the direction of the bar and I’ll be just fine.”
“Maybe you should go home, Father. Does Mother know where you are?”
This makes him scowl. “Of course she does.”
“Then why aren’t you with her?”
“She didn’t want to come. She has no desire to see all of this, but I do.” He jams a finger into his chest. “Now, are you going to find a seat for your father or not?”
What he’s asking me to do feels wrong. However, a sick, deep, dark part of me wants to play this out. To have him here and allow him to witness what I do. To force him to hear the words Dr. Miller and I will be saying shortly. Perhaps this is a Tequila Sunrise opportunity to prove myself to my father once and for all.
I pull myself up tall. “I do have an open seat, but I will only give it to you with conditions.”
He smirks a disgusting sneer that makes me want to punch him in his long, sloped nose that he’s doing so well looking down on me from. “That’s my girl.”
The reply haunts me, but I step in and steel myself to appear intimidating. “You don’t talk to Tanner. You don’t look at Tanner. You don’t introduce yourself to Tanner, or Dr. Miller for that matter. I mean it, Father. Nothing, or I won’t bring you in.”
“Scout’s honour.” He holds up a peace sign.
I move to walk away, mumbling, “You’ll be in the back with some medical staff from Denmark, so talking will be a struggle.”
“I know how to speak to people, Belle. Even foreigners. It’s all I do for a living.”
I roll my eyes as he follows me through the ballroom. Trust is not something I have with my father, and after the horrid things he said about Tanner on the phone the other day, I refuse to put Tanner in the firing range.
I find him a table with two open seats that were booked by the Danes’ chief of surgery and his wife, neither of which could make it.
Before I leave, I pin my father with a death stare. “I’ve got to go give a little speech here shortly. Maybe…have some coffee or tea, and I’ll come see you afterwards.”
His drooped eyes slow blink as he nods, so I turn and walk away on shaky legs. This is the first time in my life I’ve ever seen my father pissed like this. Openly intoxicated. He’s not falling over drunk, but he’s definitely not acting the way I’m used to. It’s…unnerving.
After a couple glasses of champagne, some food in my stomach, and some laughs over photos Indie and Camden have taken in the booth, I’ve all but forgotten about my father.
My palms are sweaty as I pull out the piece of paper with the words I’ll be speaking tonight. I repeat them in my head over and over until the event coordinator finally pulls me aside and says it’s time to take the stage.
Tanner gives me a kiss and squeezes my side as I leave. When I walk up the stairs to the stage, I’m suddenly very aware of all five hundred people here tonight.
The master of ceremonies introduces me and I stride up to the podium, my dress shooting out blasts of sparkles underneath the stage lights.
I clear my throat and dig deep for all my confidence. “Thank you all for joining us this evening. The Foetal Medicine Foundation is a charity that aims to improve the health of pregnant women and their unborn babies through research and training in foetal medicine.”
I pause and exhale a shaky breath. My eyes find Tanner’s and he nods in encouragement.
“With the support of people like you here tonight, the foundation has raised more than fifteen million pounds in the past ten years it has been in operation.
“With your help, we are able to maintain our educational programme so that doctors like myself can have the opportunity to train with some of the most brilliant minds in this field.
“The work we do here tonight helps us save little girls, like Nevaeh Parker from Indiana, whose mother was advised by her obstetrician to have an abortion at only sixteen weeks pregnant when they realised she had spina bifida. Because of Dr. Miller’s efforts, Nevaeh is now a thriving twelve-year-old little girl with an excellent quality of life. So excellent, in fact, that she informed me at tea today that she was sent to the principal’s office at her school last week for splashing mud in gym class.”
I pause as the room breaks into pleasant laughter.
“As I sat beside Nevaeh and watched her fall in love with clotted cream, I marvelled over the fact that Dr. Miller touched her when no one else could. She healed her when everyone else was certain all was lost. As doctors, we like to think we play God. But looking at Nevaeh now, whose name spelled backwards is Heaven, I think it’s she who has touched us. I think it’s her who inspires our healing hands because there is nothing more godlike than being in the presence of a miracle.”
I pause and blink away my tears. The room is so still and so silent, you could hear a pin drop. Smiling, I compose myself to say the last line. “So, without further ado, please welcome the protector of our tiny patients, Dr. Elizabeth Miller.”
PRIDE.
Heaping mounds of pride erupt in my chest, causing the ache that I’ve been feeling for days to break apart and crumble into the reality of what is. Reality being that I love Belle Ryan. I love her more than I’ve ever loved anything in this world.
Belle steps back and shakes Dr. Miller’s hand as she takes the microphone and thanks Belle for the kind words. Belle stands up there, a golden goddess of radiant light, beaming with pride and joy for what she does and all that she is. She’s breathtaking and inspiring and everything I never knew existed in a partner. And I love her.
A man sits down in her vacant chair beside me, interrupting my life-changing realisation. I instinctively shuffle away when a heady scent of scotch wafts off of him.
After a minute or two of listening to Dr. Miller speak about Nevaeh Parker, the man’s voice husks into my ear, “So you’re the infamous Tanner Harris.”
I turn to look at him. He’s an older bloke, likely in his sixties. Pissed to be sure. But just looking at him, I can tell he comes from money based on his expensive suit and watch. Plus, there’s something about the way he holds himself—nose slightly upturned, eyes narrowed in judgement—that makes him seem superior.
My response is short and curt. “Yes, I’m Tanner.” I look back up at the stage, trying to be polite and listen to Dr. Miller’s words.
He huffs out a laugh beside me and adds, “You don’t know who I am, do you?”
I eye him curiously, shaking my head.
“I’m Lord Ryan, of course. Belle Ryan’s father.” His response stuns me into silence. When my brows lift, he smiles knowingly and confirms, “Now you’re getting it.”
We both train our eyes on the stage again, confusion and tension passing back and forth between us like a heat wave. I didn’t know he was going to be here tonight. Surely Belle would have mentioned it.
He leans into me. “I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t know who I am. We don’t exactly run in similar social circles.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him glance around our table at everyone. No one seems to be curious about who the strange man is who’s plonked himself in amongst us, but I sure as hell am.
After another minute or two of
silence, he asks, “Did you hear the news then?”
I find my voice and whisper, “What news?”
His brows lift. “That hotshot lawyer of yours didn’t tell you? Santino?” He lengthens all the vowels in a patronising tone. I shake my head. “I lost the vote for the Supreme Court today.”
A heaviness settles in the air, weighing down the ambience of the room. His slanted eyes are locked on me as he gauges my reaction.
“I wasn’t aware.”
“Surely you knew I was in line for the Supreme Court?” I shrug and tension radiates off his high shoulders. “Well, I was. And that was the whole point of this sham. To help secure my seat. So your little performance with my daughter didn’t work.”
I clear my throat, shifting nervously in my seat. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
He huffs out a laugh. “How about you just listen? You may have won a match today, but you lost the cup. So you can pack it in and go back to your pedestrian life where you fuck anything that walks and spread your future illegitimate seed to someone else.”
The bone in my jaw ticks with barely contained fury. I lean into him so that no one else can overhear. “I don’t know what your problem is with me, but maybe you should keep your voice down.”
“Why?” he barks, sitting back in his chair like he’s the King of England and everyone around him are peasants. The people at our table turn to look at him, catching on to the unfolding scene. “What’s the point of keeping quiet? The reason you were dating my daughter at all was for me to rise to the Court. And that’s all gone now, so none of this matters.”
Shaking my head, I reply through clenched teeth, “That wasn’t the only reason I dated Belle. There were many factors.”
He jeers, “Maybe for you, but not for my Belle.”
Possessiveness heats my blood as he attempts to claim her. The Ryans have never seen Belle the way I see her. She’s confirmed it on more than one occasion. His tone, his demeanour, his lack of respect for the doctor speaking on stage right now is all proof of that.
