Royally Screwed: A British Bad Boy Romance

by Jessica Ashe

“Did you… you know, check him out. I bet he’s packing a massive—”

  “Ego. Yes, definitely. Should Mr. Michaels make another appointment, please make sure he doesn’t end up on my schedule.”

  Mel sighed disappointedly. “If you say so.”

  I sensed another lecture coming about how I needed to loosen up and have a little fun. I guess today was my lucky day because Mel went back to work. Maybe she’d given up on me. I was probably considered a loss cause at this point.

  “What’s the rest of my day looking like?”

  “Lots of old men who need medical exams for their life insurance,” Mel said unenthusiastically.

  “You don’t want to help with those?”

  “No,” she replied. “I think I’ll pass.”

  “If I call in sick tomorrow, you know why,” I joked.

  I’d never call in sick, and we both knew it. That’s just not what I did. Oh well, today was just another exciting day in the life of Doctor Harvey.

  Diary of Alison Harvey

  February 3, 2013 (three and a half years ago)

  According to Mom and Dad, they’d “never been more proud of me.” Of course, they’d said the same thing when I got into Harvard for undergrad, and then again when I went to Dartmouth Medical School.

  This did feel different though. I’d always wanted to be a doctor, but now it was a reality. It was all official. My residency would be underway soon. In a few years, I’d be able to practice medicine on my own. On second thought, this whole thing was more scary than exciting….

  Chapter Four

  Elliot

  I’d always had a thing for nurses. Not doctors, though.

  Doctors always lectured me, whereas nurses just joked around and did tests. Doctors rarely went out in the evening, but nurses were often game for a little drink, dance, and dick to end a shift.

  Plus, nurses had those uniforms. Doctors just wore white jackets and stern looks.

  Nope, doctors had never done it for me.

  Until now.

  I’d never met a doctor like Dr. Alison Harvey before. She’d done a decent job of pretending not to want me, but I caught enough of the signs to know that deep down she was like every other woman.

  There was the occasional twinkle in her eye when we talked, and the uncomfortable way she moved—as if her loins were hot with desire. Plus, there were clear hints of jealousy when I talked about being with other women.

  She needed to loosen up a bit, though. A good fucking usually did the trick.

  “Excuse me, Miss,” I said politely to a receptionist. “Do you have contact details for Dr. Alison Harvey?”

  “We don’t give out details for the doctors,” the lady replied.

  “It’s important,” I replied, looking down at her name badge. “Lisa, I’m not after her home phone number or anything. Does she have a business card?”

  No woman could resist my requests when I spoke in a soft, quiet English accent.

  “I suppose I could give you the number for her office,” Lisa replied uncertainly. “But you’ll likely only get to the receptionist.”

  “Tell you what, can you book me another appointment for next Friday?”

  “With Doctor Harvey?”

  “Yes.”

  “What time on Friday?”

  “Right at the end of her shift. I want to be her last patient of the day.”

  “I’m afraid that slot isn’t available.”

  I sighed. How hard could it be to hook up with a hot doctor? “Nevermind. Thank you, Lisa.”

  I had no idea where the exit was, but being a proud guy, I wasn’t about to ask for directions. I wandered down the hall and ended up in another ward, when I heard someone call out my name.

  A young boy lying in a hospital bed smiled and waved his hand at me frantically. “Elliot Michaels,” he yelled again. “Elliot. Can I get a picture?”

  I had a reputation as being generous with my time and always hanging out with the fans, but that was usually because those fans wanted to bounce around on my dick. Still, maybe he has a hot mom….

  “Hello mate, how’re you?”

  Fuck. Stupid bloody question to ask a kid in hospital.

  “I have to wear a cast on my arm for three weeks,” the kid replied, looking down at his arm with a frown on his face.

  “Well that’s cool,” I said enthusiastically.

  “It is?”

  “Yeah. I had to wear a cast when I was your age. Do you know what the best thing about a cast is?” He shook his head. I leaned in and whispered in his ear. “You become an absolute chick magnet.”

  “Really?”

  “The second you go back to school, the girls are going to be all over you wanting to sign your cast. Here, let me be the first one to do it.” I grabbed a pen from the table by the bed. “What’s your name?”

  “Ash.”

  I wrote on his cast, making sure my name was legible so that if any other UFC fans saw it the kid would get even more attention.

  Great to meet you, Ash. I wish I was that brave when I broke bones. Elliot Michaels.

  “Thanks, Elliot.”

  “As cool as it is to have a cast, probably a good idea not to make a habit of it. How did you break your arm anyway?”

  Ash looked down at his arm again, the smile disappearing from his face. “I fell down the stairs.”

  I looked at his other arm and saw a few bruises. He had one on his upper chest as well.

  I’d ‘fallen down the stairs’ a few times as a kid as well. Ash didn’t look like the clumsy type, and I hadn’t been either.

  “Are you sure you fell down the stairs, Ash?” I asked. “You can tell me if not.”

  He nodded, but still wouldn’t look up at me. I heard footsteps walk up behind me. I turned around, but the face I saw wasn’t as pleasant as Doctor Harvey.

  “Can I help you?” the man behind me asked.

  “I’m just asking Ash how he was so brave,” I replied.

  “This is Elliot Michaels, Dad,” Ash said. “He’s the fighter I watch on television.”

  The dad nodded, but I didn’t see any recognition in his eyes.

  “I’ll be off,” I said, standing up. “Great to meet you, Ash.”

  I walked out of the room, but stood by the doorway and watched Ash with his dad. It was usually the dad. Not always, but usually.

  The dad sat next to the bed, but the two of them didn’t speak. When the dad reached out to pass Ash some food, Ash flinched away at the sight of his hand approaching. Yep, it was definitely the father.

  I gritted my teeth as I stared at Ash laying there in bed with a broken arm. It was like looking at myself when I was a kid.

  Then I saw her walking down the hall.

  “Alison,” I said with a grin. “Good to see you again.”

  I saw her roll her eyes and sigh. “It’s Doctor Harvey to you. Why are you still here, Mr. Michaels?”

  “Just doing my bit for the fans,” I replied. “Are you Ash’s doctor by any chance?”

  “Yes, he’s a patient.”

  “Are you going in there now to run tests?”

  “I’m going to speak to my patient. I can’t tell you what I’m doing. I’m sure you appreciate doctor-client confidentiality, Mr. Michaels. You wouldn’t want me talking about the sex swing incident, I’m sure.”

  I laughed. That story had already made it online anyway, but I took her point.

  “Ask the father to leave,” I said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Ask the father to leave so that you can run tests.”

  “The father has barely left his side since he arrived in hospital,” Alison replied.

  “Yeah, guilt’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

  Alison didn’t nod in agreement, but I saw the look of understanding on her face. She knew how Ash had come by those injuries.

  “Goodbye, Mr. Michaels,” she said, before heading into Ash’s room. I watched her walk slowly over to the bed, transfixed by what I cou
ld see of her ass under the white coat. I’d do anything to get her into a nurse’s uniform. And then out of it soon after.

  I headed down the hall, but heard Ash’s door open behind me. The dad walked out of the room and headed down the hall in the opposite direction. Good work, Alison.

  I followed the father and quickly caught up with him. The hospital was quiet enough, but there was always another nurse or doctor in sight, and there were cameras all over the place. This wouldn’t be easy.

  “Hey,” I yelled out, as I placed a hand on the father’s shoulder. He spun around and tried to shake me off, but I had a firm grip and I pushed him up against the wall before getting up in his face.

  “What the fuck do you—”

  “Quiet, little man,” I said softly. “Stand still and don’t attract anyone’s attention.”

  As with most bullies, Ash’s dad was a coward. He knew I was a fighter, and had no intention of squaring up to me.

  “What do you want?” he asked nervously.

  “How did Ash break his arm?”

  “He… he fell down the stairs.”

  “How?”

  “He tripped on the cord from the vacuum cleaner.”

  “He told me he was practicing his kicks and lost his balance,” I lied.

  “Oh, well, uh… yeah, that could have been it. I assumed he tripped over the cord, but perhaps—”

  I pressed a finger up against his lips and he stopped talking immediately.

  “Listen, I get it. Kids are stressful, right? They get under your feet and cost a fortune. Of course you want to strike out once in awhile, it’s only natural.”

  “You have no idea,” he said when I let him speak. “He’s such a handful. I just need to discipline him that’s all it is. You understand?”

  “Of course. Discipline is important to get people to change their ways. Get them back on the straight and narrow.”

  Ash’s dad looked relieved. I glanced to either side; no one was around. I took advantage of the brief moment of privacy and swung my fist into the man’s stomach.

  He doubled over, winded, but I picked him back up so that he didn’t draw any attention.

  “I’m with you,” I said. “A bit of physical discipline is the only way to go. So tell me, how much more physical discipline do I need to dish out to convince you to stop beating your son, you worthless piece of shit?”

  “I’ll stop,” he moaned. “I’ll stop.”

  “You’d better,” I replied. “Because Ash told me where you live, so you can expect me to show up randomly to check him out. I shall break one of your bones for every bruise you put on that boy’s body. If you break any more of his bones, then I shall have to think up something more serious. Understand?”

  He nodded. A few visitors were starting to look in our direction, so I backed away from him.

  I’d made my point.

  If someone had done that to my dad, then my childhood would have been a lot happier. Now I needed to get to the gym. My next fight was only a few weeks away and I had to be ready. With every fight, I got one step closer to a championship match with Tyler Young.

  Bring it on.

  Chapter Five

  Alison

  “How are you feeling, Ash?” I asked, as I examined the bruises on his body. They were healing quickly. Children recovered remarkably quickly; physically at least.

  “I’m great. I just met Elliot Michaels.”

  “You know who he is?”

  “Of course I do. He’s the best fighter in the UFC and he’s going to be the champ one day.”

  Ash tried to throw a punch with his good arm, but then winced in pain.

  “You don’t want to be a fighter, do you?” I asked.

  “Yep. I’m going to be a champion too.”

  “You’re going to end up with a lot more broken bones if you become a fighter. You’ll end up with your arm in a cast all the time.”

  “That’s okay,” Ash said brightly. “The cast will help me get loads of chicks.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Who told you that?”

  “Elliot. He said loads of chicks will want to sign my cast.”

  “Not if you call them ‘chicks,’ they won’t.”

  I looked around to check that Ash’s dad hadn’t returned. Elliot was dealing with him. I was under no illusions as to what that would entail. Elliot was a violent man, and I hated violence. I hated violent men period.

  But in this case….

  I’d tried to get a social worker in to talk to Ash, but management wouldn’t go for it without concrete information from Ash. He’d refused to talk about his injuries other than lie about the fall down the stairs, so soon he would be going home with his piece of shit of a father.

  My friend, Nora, was a social worker, and would love to get involved, but she couldn’t do anything without being called in.

  That meant Elliot’s solution to the problem was—in this very particular set of circumstances—probably the best one. Not that I’d ever tell him that.

  Why had he even gotten involved? From our brief encounter, I would have bet money that he didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself, and he certainly didn’t look like a kid person.

  I had been on my way to another patient, but when I’d seen Elliot standing outside Ash’s room, I couldn’t help but take a slight detour.

  He intrigued me.

  He didn’t turn me on, or get me excited. Definitely not that.

  Okay, perhaps there was a touch of arousal, but that was only because I’d been so long without a man. It had nothing to do with Elliot in particular.

  If anything, Elliot was a turn off, not a turn on. I couldn’t abide men like him. I still hadn’t gotten used to Nora dating a fighter, or a former fighter now, I supposed. He was a nice guy, but I couldn’t look at him and not picture him pounding his fists into other people’s faces.

  Elliot was just as bad, if not worse. He’d made it to the UFC, so he was now a professional fighter. And a bloody arrogant one at that. Came with the territory, I supposed. There probably weren’t many humble fighters.

  I left Ash to watch the television, and headed to my next patient—the one I was supposed to see before bumping into Elliot.

  “Doctor Harvey,” a voice called out. I turned quickly, but was disappointed to see Doctor Oxford.

  Who had I been hoping to see? It didn’t take a medical degree to figure that out. I just wanted to thank Elliot for helping Ash, that was all.

  “Yes, Doctor Oxford?” He made no effort to approach me, so I walked over to him.

  “You have a new patient.”

  “I have lots of new patients at the moment,” I replied. “Has he been added to the system?”

  “Yes. I spoke to Mel, and she said you didn’t have any free slots this afternoon.”

  I knew where this was going. A few years ago, when I had just started my residency, I would have made sure to squeeze in every potential patient. Now, I didn’t like to deviate from my schedule, because then you just got behind and catching up was nigh on impossible.

  “This man is a high-priority patient,” Doctor Oxford said.

  Rich, in other words.

  “Well, I’m sure there are plenty of other doctors who can see him.”

  There weren’t many doctors here with less experience than me, so it shouldn’t be hard to find a replacement.

  “You’re the ideal doctor for this job. He’s another fighter for this UCF thing.”

  “You mean UFC?”

  Doctor Oxford shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. But it’s the same thing as that other patient you had earlier. You just need to run a few tests and sign some paperwork for him.”

  Any doctor could do this job. Why did it have to be me?

  “I suppose this needs to happen right now?” I asked.

  “Yes. Like I said, he’s important.”

  I couldn’t be bothered to argue. It’s not like I had a chance of winning.

  I headed back to Mel an
d asked where the patient was waiting.

  “He’s in three,” she replied. “You specializing in providing medical care to fighters now?”

  “Apparently so. You don’t seem as enthusiastic about this one.”

  Mel shrugged. “He’s no Elliot Michaels.”

  “No English accent?”

  “Nope. And no manners either.”

  “Mr. Michaels wasn’t exactly great in that regard.”

  “Trust me, he was like Prince William compared to this guy. Good luck.”

  I shuddered and took the paperwork from Mel. I should be able to get this over with quickly. No need to grill Mr. Norton on his sex life.

  I walked in and looked at Tim Norton sitting on the table. He’d already stripped down to his underwear. Like Elliot, he had tattoos, scars, and muscles all over him. That was where the similarities ended.

  His nose had been broken at least once, and part of his ear was missing. Those were the attractive parts of his face.

  “Hmm,” he murmured as he looked up at me. “Yeah, you’ll do.”

  “I’ll do?”

  “Yeah. I’m kind of particular with my doctors. I prefer them to be female, young, and attractive. You meet two of those criteria at least. Maybe a third if I’ve had a few drinks.”

  Sometimes sticking needles into people could be fun. And what man didn’t enjoy a prostate exam?

  “Bend over, Mr. Norton. Let’s get this over with.”

  * * *

  I had to get home. Now.

  “Cancel the rest of my appointments,” I said to Mel, as I left room three.

  “What about Mr. Minnow? You were supposed to see him an hour ago.”

  “Find another doctor to see to him. I need to leave.”

  My heart was beating at a mile a minute. The wide halls of the hospital suddenly felt narrower, and were contracting with every passing second. Soon I’d be trapped here. With him.

  “Is everything okay?” Mel asked.

  “It’s fine. I just… I just have to get out of here. Can you cover for me?”

  “Of course. What about Mr. Norton’s form?”

  I hurriedly signed the form and practically threw it back at Mel. “I’m sorry, Mel. If anyone gives you shit, just tell them to talk to me.”