Her Russian Billionaire(10)

Between the crackdown from department chief and cessation of any further surprise ER visits from Lex Makarov, gossip about my personal life slowly died down-at least in my presence. Perhaps Julia and Kyle had been informed of Dr. Talbot's reprimand and were scared of facing admonishment of their own, because even my fellow interns had given up their snide remarks and criticisms of me.

The best part of my entire week, however, was that at the end of the week I realized that I had not been summoned by Makarov as promised. In fact, I hadn't seen the man in over a week. I'd finished the last of the old case files, which I delivered to Makarov's secretary while avoiding him personally. I was expecting to be called into his office to discuss my reports, but it never happened. Not that I was upset about that fact.

Or at least I wasn't admitting to myself that I was upset. Only late at night, as I lay alone in bed, did I lament the absence of those steely eyes and knowing smile. Most of the time, I reminded myself that I was thankful to be rid of the smug bastard and threw myself into each Emergency Room shift with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

All in all, the following days went smoothly-at least compared to the month prior. The only dark spot on my otherwise smooth week was the lingering possibility of pregnancy. I tried to push this worry out of my head, as there wasn't anything I could do about it at this point except wait and see. But the possibility that I might be pregnant-with Makarov's baby-still followed me around everywhere I went, casting a shadow on everything else I did.

I should have known the peace couldn't last, however. I was finishing up my shift on Sunday night when I was finally summoned to Makarov's office.

My stomach sunk-both from fear and from anticipation. I'd reviewed all of the case files he'd asked me to almost a week ago-if he'd wanted to go over them, he would have met with me before now. But there was really no other reason why he could possibly need to see me today. Despite this, I also couldn't refuse to meet with him, so, although I was dreading the experience, I made my way to the twelfth floor.

"Dr. Carter, hello," Makarov said, standing as I entered the office. His normally cold eyes were warm, and his expression was soft. I was a little taken aback by his sincere greeting and seemingly genuine smile.

"Hi, Mr. Makarov," I said after a moment of confusion.

"Please, we've been working together for over a month," he replied as he returned to his seat. "You can call me Lex." I didn't know how to respond, as I'd never seen the man act this way. It was like he was a completely different person. Even his tiny hint of a Russian accent seemed stronger today, with him being what appeared to be a little nervous.

"Okay," I answered. "Then you should call me Michelle."

"Michelle," he repeated, still smiling warmly.

"Lex," I answered, slightly sarcastically. I didn't want to start another fight with him, but I wasn't sure how to take his apparent personality upgrade.

He raised his eyebrows, the familiar smirk almost returning to his lips.

"Anyway," Lex continued, "how was your week?"

"Um …  good," I replied, slightly taken aback. He had never asked after my week or day before. "It's actually been one of the smoothest weeks since I've been here."

"Well, that's nice. Probably has something to do with not having had to work with me at all." Something sad passed through his eyes as he said this, but it quickly disappeared. "Unfortunately, I have another case I need you to review. I hope it doesn't put too much of a damper on things."   





 

"I thought I'd read through all of your files," I responded, confused by the slight tingle of excitement I felt at the opportunity to work with Makarov …  Lex …  again.

"Sadly, there was another death this week that needs to be examined. I hope you don't mind," he said as he handed over a file.

"Um … " I felt like I should mind-I really did want to be free of this man and the haunting memories of what we'd done together. Or did I? Those memories didn't want to stay where I'd hidden them, especially not when he was in front of me, smiling at me so casually. His entire face had softened with the addition of a genuine smile, and his pale grey eyes danced with excitement as he gazed back at me. I stared at the large hand cradling the file and couldn't help but remember what that hand had felt like on my hot skin, exploring the curves of my body. As much as I hated him, I couldn't deny that I felt drawn to him as well. But that chemistry was dangerous. I couldn't afford to make another mistake. Things had just gotten back to normal.

However, I really wasn't in a position to tell him no. If I did, I would have to acknowledge our past indiscretions, as well as the continued desire on my part, which I couldn't seem to dampen. Instead, I took the file from his hand and plastered on a fake smile.

"I don't mind," I lied, just needing an excuse to get out of his office before I said or did something else I would regret.

"Great," he replied. "Can you have it read by tomorrow evening?"

"Yes," I answered, though that would mean I'd have no time to relax between now and then, as I was scheduled to begin another twelve-hour shift in less than ten hours' time. But I just wanted to get this over with, so a meeting with him wouldn't be hanging over my head all weekend. There was also a small part of me that was excited to see him again the following day, though I didn't want to acknowledge it.

"I'll meet with you after my shift tomorrow," I told him as I stood to leave.

"Sounds good. It's a date," he replied.

I tried not to flinch at those words. Obviously he meant that in the most professional way possible-or, it was just a language barrier. At least that's what I assured myself as I turned and headed to the door with a final "good bye!"

Since time was of an essence, I splurged on a taxi instead of taking the bus home. Still, I was unable to fully focus on the file in front of me once I was back at my apartment. My feelings and desires were so tumultuous and conflicted, I was unable to fully immerse myself in the case. I was up much later than I meant to be and eventually fell asleep on the sofa, the image of bright grey eyes dancing through my mind.

By the following evening, I was tired and more than a little cranky. Not only had I sacrificed sleep to carefully analyze the case report, but I had then experienced the most hectic ER shift I'd worked thus far. A five-car pileup on the freeway near the interstate had brought in over twenty patients within a one-hour period. Eventually, some of the patients were moved to nearby hospitals-and two were air-lifted to University of Miami Hospital for more in-depth procedures-but it had been chaotic in the Emergency Room for a few hours.

Thankfully, I had been sure to bring a change of clothes and toiletries to freshen up before my meeting-not that I was trying to impress Lex Makarov. I'd just assumed that I would want to change out of my scrubs, as they were usually sweaty and gross by the end of a twelve-hour shift.

When I finally made it up to Lex's office-mentally chastising myself for thinking of him as Lex, though I couldn't stop myself-I was starving and exhausted, but at least I thought I was looking better than I felt.

"You look like crap," he said as soon as I entered his office.

"Thanks," I snapped, particularly angry, as I'd spent some changing, putting on some make-up, and making myself presentable. Damn Russian directness.

"Sorry," Lex replied, actually looking chagrined."I just meant that you look tired."

"I am," I admitted. "I don't know if you heard about that huge accident, but the ER has been crazy all afternoon. On top of that, I was up late reading your file. Plus, I'm starving. Things were too busy in the ER for me to take a break, so I skipped lunch."

"Great," Lex said with a smile. The face I made must have been awful, as he shot me an apologetic look and continued. "Not great that you skipped lunch, but I'm glad you're hungry. I am too. I was thinking we could turn this into a working dinner."   





 

"I'm pretty sure the cafeteria is closed," I replied, not sure what to do with his continued niceness.

"The cafeteria is also disgusting," he stated as he stood and fastened his jacket. "I know of a place that's close."

"Sure," I answered, assuming that we were going to walk to the restaurant across the street. Instead, Lex led me down to the parking garage, where he sidled up next to a black sports car.

"Nice ride," I said dryly as he opened the door for me. I wasn't lying, though. The car was obviously very expensive, even though I knew nothing about the subject. It had a vintage look to it, yet somehow it appeared modern, with soft black leather seats that I sank into comfortably.

"Thanks," he said with a smile. "It's an Aston Martin DB3S. It was my father's."

I nodded idly, trying to price a car of this caliber. It was probably worth over a million dollars, maybe more. I shuddered at the thought-it would cover my student loans in no time.

The car ride was silent and slightly awkward, but I was too tired and hungry to care. I was surprised, however, when we pulled up in front of a restaurant I hadn't been to before and Lex handed his keys to a valet before ushering me through the door.

"Makarov," he told the hostess and she nodded, walking us towards a corner table.