Royally Screwed: A British Bad Boy Romance

by Jessica Ashe

  Tina had massaged Elliot before, and given his reputation, I had no doubt in my mind where those massages had led. The staff at the hotel were only to happy to tend to his every need and desire, after all.

  After the massage, I met up with a medical representative from the UFC who gave me a tour of the backstage area for the fight. It was clean enough to the naked eye, but you wouldn’t exactly want to perform surgery there if you had a choice.

  I’d fallen a long way from operating in a spotless, well-regarded hospital, to having to work in little more than a glorified changing room.

  At some point, I’d have to tell Mom and Dad about my fall from grace. Boy, there was a conversation I wasn’t looking forward to. They would say nice things, but they’d be disappointed.

  I’d be back in a hospital one day. If I wanted to be. I wasn’t even sure anymore. Working with Elliot didn’t pay a lot in comparison, but life sure was a lot more interesting now. And less stressful. Mostly.

  I met a few other doctors, but they were all a lot older than me. And all men. Working with a fighter probably provided them with a nice little retirement nest egg, if they didn’t already have one. By their age, I’d be lucky to have paid off my student loans.

  After getting the tour, I strolled back into the main casino, with the intention of heading straight back up to my hotel room. I didn’t feel tired, but friends had told me the hotels pumped oxygen into the room to keep people awake. It sounded implausible, but whatever the reason, I had a surprising amount of energy.

  Then I saw Elliot gambling at one of the craps table. Women gathered around, hanging off his every word as he let them blow on the dice for luck.

  I couldn’t watch, and I knew why. I wasn’t about to lie to myself. I had a crush, as silly as that sounded.

  This was a new experience for me. I’d had crushes on guys before, but never on ones that had women lusting over them like this. Other than the football player, the men I liked were usually grateful for any attention from the opposite sex. All I had to do was ask to borrow their class notes, and I was guaranteed valentine’s day cards for the next three years.

  My crush on Elliot made no sense, and I knew it would fade. A physical attraction wasn’t enough, and intellectually we were worlds apart. It wouldn’t work, and that meant this silly phase would pass.

  I just hoped that happened soon.

  “Alison,” Elliot called out, as he held out a hand with the dice. “Come over here and blow me.”

  All the girls around him laughed, but awkwardly, as if they felt threatened by me. They didn’t need to be. They all had perfect, surgically enhanced, breasts and pretty faces covered in layers of makeup. Just Elliot’s type.

  “I’ll do it,” one of his bimbos said eagerly. Then they all started clambering around him, desperate to blow on the dice. Pretty pathetic.

  Almost as pathetic as me agreeing to do it.

  I walked up and pushed my way through the small crowd to reach Elliot. I blew softly on his open palm, and could hear the groan of disappointment from the other women as I did so.

  “Thanks,” Elliot said, before throwing the dice across the table.

  “Snake eyes,” the dealer yelled, and everyone started cheering.

  “Is that good?” I asked.

  “That’s what I bet on,” Elliot replied. “You’re good luck. You can blow me all night, love.”

  “I should get back to my room. I’m exhausted.”

  “How can you be exhausted? You slept the entire flight.”

  “Oh, yeah, so I did,” I lied. “Well, I have some reading to do. Medical journals, and that kind of thing.”

  I shouldn’t have pretended to be asleep for the entire flight. I’d had every intention of sleeping, and I’d been drifting off when that damn air hostess came and propositioned Elliot again.

  Without thinking, I’d swung my arm over and placed it on his leg, as if claiming him as mine. I nearly snatched it back, but then he’d know I was awake. I ended up not sleeping at all; I just lay there with my hand on his large calf. I suppose there are worse ways to travel.

  I insisted on leaving, and walked in the direction of the elevators without looking back. I was tired, but I had a distinct feeling that I wouldn’t be able to sleep. A hand reached out from behind me and pressed the button for the elevator before I could.

  “Figured I should quit while I was ahead,” Elliot said. I turned around to see him holding a handful of chips. “Especially without my lucky charm.”

  “Another thing they taught us in med school; how to activate the luck centers of the brain. It’s like adrenaline, except useful.”

  “You’re not really going to spend a night in Vegas reading medical journals, are you?”

  “I don’t like gambling,” I replied. “And that’s about all there is to do here.”

  “I can teach you to play poker if you like?”

  Just because I didn’t like gambling, didn’t mean I couldn’t play poker. But if Elliot thought I was a novice, well, that could prove interesting.

  “Alright,” I said. “But not down here with all the crowds. Got a set of cards on you?”

  “I’m in a penthouse suite in the MGM. They literally put a poker table in my room with a full set of chips. You’re going to come up?”

  “Sure,” I replied. “Only for poker though. If you want more than that, you’ll need to invite one of your other ladies.”

  And if you do, please don’t let me know about it. I can cope if I don’t know.

  “I’ll settle for poker.”

  Elliot took me up to his penthouse, which was every bit as extravagant and ridiculous as you would expect in Vegas. All this for one man. No wonder he became a fighter. On the few occasions I’d traveled for medical conferences, I’d been lucky to get a three star hotel with a broken kettle and instant coffee.

  “The rules are easy enough to pick up,” Elliot explained as he shuffled a deck.

  I listened intently as I pretended to learn the rules to a game I’d played a lot as a kid. My dad would play with me and Mom for matchsticks, which I could convert into treats at the end of the game. Probably not the best parenting in hindsight, but we’d had fun.

  “Ready to play a practice round?” Elliot asked, as he divided up the chips between us.

  “Let’s just get on with real games. I think this game is all about bluffing, and I can tell when you’re lying.”

  “You reckon? Okay then. Am I lying when I say that I want you to stay the night?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “You might think you want that, but you don’t. Not really. You just want me because you can’t have me.”

  “Can’t I?”

  “Come on, are we going to play, or just sit here and talk?”

  “You deal the cards; I’ll pour us some drinks. Wine?”

  I nodded, and watched him move over to the mini bar and look around for some glasses. When his back was turned, I played around with the deck of cards until I’d given myself a half decent hand and him a weak one.

  “No minimum,” I shouted out. “Let’s make this exciting.”

  Never turn your back on the dealer, Elliot. This is going to be fun.

  * * *

  “I’m out of chips,” Elliot said, as he threw his last one onto the pile. “You’ve had a lot of beginner’s luck tonight.”

  “Incredible isn’t it?” I replied, as I looked at my hand of two queens. Combined with the two queens in the river, I had a hand that would win most matches. It would definitely win this one, because I knew he only had a three and a nine.

  Elliot looked at me suspiciously, but he only saw the doctor who could barely shuffle a deck of cards without dropping them. He could be a gentleman at times. Such a gentleman, that he would pick up the dropped cards, giving me a chance to arrange the deck.

  I almost felt guilty.

  Almost.

  “How about we turn this into strip poker?” Elliot suggested.

  “You can bet y
our clothes if you like. I still have plenty of chips left to gamble.”

  I’d seen his chest twice already. Once when I did his physical, and once when he had been sparring with Theo. I’d seen every inch of it. I’d even laid my hands on it.

  Even so, the thought of him stripping off that shirt in the privacy of his hotel room felt different somehow. More intimate. More suggestive.

  “I’ll bet my shirt,” Elliot said. “Let’s see your cards.”

  I revealed my hand, and did my best to act surprised when I saw Elliot’s.

  “Off with the shirt,” I said, as I scooped up the chips from the middle of the table.

  “This is ridiculous,” Elliot yelled, exasperated. “I’ve never seen a winning streak like this.”

  “Less talking, more undressing.”

  “You take if off. The winner has to claim the prize, like you just did with your chips.”

  “Now I’m wondering whether you’re losing on purpose.”

  Elliot shook his head vigorously. “As much as I’d like you to undress me, I cannot stand losing. Besides, if I won, then I could be taking your clothes off and that would be a lot more fun.”

  “Except I would never be stupid enough to bet my clothes when I was on a run of bad luck. Are you going to take that shirt off or not?”

  “I told you, you have to take it off.” Elliot stood up and raised his arms in the air. “Come on. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

  I sighed and placed the cards down on the table. I had seen it all before, but that didn’t make it any easier. And me removing his shirt was inherently suggestive. Or at least, it was to me. Elliot probably didn’t think much of it, but undressing men outside of a hospital wasn’t exactly a common occurrence for me.

  Standing in front of Elliot, I could smell a faint hint of aftershave on his neck as I wrapped my fingers under the bottom of his t-shirt. The thing was so tight, it was impossible to get hold of it without grazing softly against his skin.

  I wriggled the t-shirt loose and then tugged it up his body, brushing my fingers against his back as the cotton went above his chest.

  Elliot bent over slightly as I pulled it off over his head and dropped it on the floor. Elliot stared into my eyes, and I returned his gaze. I’d just undressed him, but I was the one who suddenly felt exposed.

  If he put his hand on my chest, he’d feel my heart rate going at a mile a minute. He might even be able to hear it. Despite all my medical knowledge telling me otherwise, I could swear my heart was crashing against my ribcage now, making a deafening noise as if trying to escape my chest.

  “You’re blushing,” Elliot teased.

  “I’ve been blushing since we started drinking,” I replied truthfully. “Alcohol always makes my cheeks go red. It’s called Alcohol Flush Syndrome.”

  I didn’t mention that it typically only happened to Asians due to an enzyme deficiency. My red face had nothing to do with the alcohol.

  “I prefer to think of it as just plain and simple excitement. Are you having any reactions anywhere else?”

  “No,” I lied. My body language gave me away as I instinctively adjusted my stance to close my legs.

  “I’m sure there’s a medical explanation for that as well—something to do with the brain excreting chemicals I think. Personally, I prefer to think of it as you just being horny and wanting me to fuck your brains out.”

  “You’re right,” I admitted. “About the first part.”

  “But not the second part?”

  “I’m not as easy to read as a Wikipedia article,” I replied. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”

  “There’s plenty of room in here for two,” Elliot said. “Why don’t you sleep in the bed, and I’ll take the sofa?”

  “Because you need your rest,” I replied. “You were right when you said you should abstain from sex before a big fight. You need all that testosterone pumping through you.”

  And if we’re not going to have sex, I don’t want you having sex with anyone else, is what I might as well have said.

  “Is that your expert medical opinion?” Elliot asked.

  “Yes. But I’m sure you’ll win either way, so you can call up some of those eager young ladies for some room service if you like.”

  I knew I was overcompensating. Elliot saw it too. He didn’t smile, but there was a glimmer in his eyes. He knew that—no matter what I said—I wanted him.

  “I guess I’ll just get an early night,” Elliot said. “But after the fight, there’s no reason why I can’t have sex, right?”

  “Nope. You just need to find a willing participant.”

  I was blushing, but the more I tried to control it, the worse it became. It reflected the passion between my legs that threatened to overtake my common sense. I had to get out of here.

  “You’re going to leave, aren’t you?” Elliot asked.

  I nodded in response, but dared not say anything. I’d stutter if I tried to talk, and he’d immediately know I was nervous. What would I be nervous about unless… unless I wanted to stay?

  “But you don’t want to leave,” Elliot stated, as he stepped close enough that I could feel our breaths clashing in the air between us.

  I should have turned and walked away, but I left it a second too late. He reached out and touched his hand to the side of my face, feeling the soft skin of my burning red cheeks.

  When his lips grazed against mine, I wanted to press my body against him and wrap my arms around his thick neck. Instead, I whimpered and went limp, giving my body over to him.

  I’d never been so eager for a man’s touch before. My brain didn’t trust the emotions coursing through my body, and as usual, it refused to give my body what it wanted.

  I backed away out of his embrace.

  “I have to go,” I muttered.

  I left his penthouse suite without looking back. I didn’t need to. The image of his naked chest was firmly ingrained in my mind. I could have drawn it from scratch, including the shape and color of every one of his tattoos.

  I don’t know what disturbed me more: the intensely physical feelings I had for a man I barely knew, or the fact that I had feelings for a patient. My only patient.

  This couldn’t continue. I couldn’t be his doctor when I wanted to jump on him, dig my nails into his chest, and… do things to him that I’d never considered before. And that’s not to mention the things I wanted him to do to me.

  I had to resign.

  I wouldn’t leave him in the lurch before a fight, but once this was over I would have to quit. I knew other doctors who were in semi-retirement and might want the work.

  I wouldn’t see him any more, but that might be for the best. At least I wouldn’t have to look at him with other women and picture what they would do together later.

  This was definitely the right thing to do.

  For my career, and for my sanity.

  Maybe not for my health though, because Nora was going to kill me.

  Diary of Alison Harvey

  September 25, 2015 (eleven months ago)

  I guess Riker’s not that bad. I probably should have given him a chance before he received a life-threatening injury. Better late than never, I suppose.

  Nora will be there for him while he recovers, because she loves him. I’ll be there for him because I’m his doctor. It’s what we do.

  Riker’s still a bit of an arrogant ass, but it could be worse. He could be the jerk who nearly killed him. That guy must be REALLY bad news.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Elliot

  I’d been to Vegas plenty of times, and I’d never felt lonely.

  Until now.

  Alison had insisted on spending the afternoon with a handsome young male doctor to “learn the ropes,” while I went off and did some light training. Nothing too strenuous this close to the fight of course, but enough to keep the muscle memory going.

  I’d ended up getting a little more aggressive with the punchbag than I’d inte
nded. I didn’t need to consult my doctor to work out why.

  There had been chemistry between Alison and me last night. It was impossible to miss. She wanted me almost as much as I wanted her. I didn’t mind her playing hard to get, as long as I got her eventually. But now I wondered whether I ever would.

  She saw me as being beneath her. Alison was the type of woman who needed mental stimulation as much as physical, and she didn’t get that from me. Then Doctor Clooney, or whatever his name is, comes along, and suddenly she’s gone for the afternoon.

  An easy solution to my frustration presented itself while I played blackjack. In fact, two easy solutions presented themselves. Their names were Isabel and Kacey, and they were more than happy to help me relax.

  Instead, I made it perfectly clear I wanted to be left alone. Being in a bad mood before a fight might not be a bad thing, but the reason behind my bad mood pissed me off no end. I wasn’t used to rejection, and I wasn’t used to thinking about a woman when she wasn’t around.

  What did I have to do to get Alison to take me seriously? Give up fighting? Even if I gave that up, it’s not like there was much else I could do instead. I couldn’t exactly pop into medical school and become a doctor.

  About the only thing I was passionate about was protecting people from bullies, which was how I’d ended up as a fighter in the first place. Unfortunately, other than ‘bad boy’ celebrities, not many people wanted to hire men with criminal records to keep them safe. Fighting was all I had left.

  “From the look on your face, I assume you’re losing.”

  I turned around and saw Percy standing there looking every bit like he’d just gotten straight off a plane. The small suitcase by his side confirmed that he’d only just arrived, as did the large bags under his eyes, and disheveled hair.

  I looked down at the pile of chips in front of me. I hadn’t been paying any attention to what I was winning or losing, but there was at least four hundred dollars more in front of me than when I started.