Hospital A was too white, too clean, too sterile — and Adam hated it.
His shoes echoed sharply against the polished floors as he walked through the main corridor, his long black coat trailing behind him like a shadow. His presence drew looks — not just because of who he was, but because of the energy he carried. Cold, commanding, and unreadable.
Room 112.
He stopped outside the door.
He could hear voices through the closed door. One of them was Alex. The other — soft, measured, tired — was hers.
His fingers hovered near the door handle. He knew he shouldn't walk in. He knew this was crossing lines he set himself long ago.
But that didn't stop him.
---
Inside, Mary sat elegantly on the edge of the exam table, her posture relaxed but her eyes alert.
Her creamy white blouse, with its gathered bodice and dramatic sleeves, draped softly over her frame. It contrasted beautifully with the blush pink mini skirt hugging her hips. A delicate gold pendant shimmered at her collarbone, catching the soft light that filtered through the blinds. Her toned legs crossed at the knees, accentuated by strappy nude heels that elongated her silhouette with effortless grace.
Adam forgot how to breathe for a second.
Fuck.
He wasn't prepared.
She looked like a goddamn editorial spread — soft and sharp all at once. Classy, playful, dangerous. Every inch of her outfit was intentional. Every curve, every flash of skin, made something in him ache.
And that skirt? Too short. He didn't like how much it showed.
Worse — he liked that it showed.
His jaw flexed as his eyes shamelessly traced the length of her legs, up to the gold buckle resting on her waist, then to the delicate line of her throat. His fingers twitched. His mind flickered with an image — her against his wall, blouse undone, skirt riding higher as her lips brushed his name.
He shook the thought away.
Focus.
She looked like a goddess and a headache rolled into one.
And he hated how fast his thoughts turned sinful.
She'd look better against my kitchen counter. In that skirt. Or out of it. Preferably out of it.
He shook the thought away just as Mary glanced up — and caught him.
Her brow arched.
Alex stood beside her, scanning a tablet, clearly unaware — or just politely pretending — that Adam had stepped in.
"Adam?" she said, as if mildly surprised he didn't fall through the ceiling instead. "What a coincidence."
"I was nearby," he said smoothly, recovering fast.
She tilted her head, a slow, smug smile tugging at her lips. "Oh? What were you doing nearby? Getting your blood pressure checked? Or just stalking your poor decisions?"
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Speechless.
Alex snorted.
---
Alex, still holding the tablet, tapped the screen and cleared his throat.
"Anyway," he said, ignoring the tension like a pro, "she's fine. Her ECG's clean, brain scan's clear, vitals are textbook boring. Her fainting was a stress response — nothing physical. She didn't eat. She didn't rest. Her body tapped out."
Adam nodded slightly, absorbing the relief. "So she's… really okay?"
Before Alex could answer, Mary tilted her head, side-eyeing Alex. "Are we just giving out personal medical details now? Should I sign a waiver or something?"
Alex chuckled. "He looked like he was about to pass out."
Mary gave Adam a sidelong glance. "Must be hard, being so emotionally repressed."
Adam exhaled slowly through his nose. He was used to control. This woman was not in his control — and God help him, it was intoxicating.
Alex chuckled. " Anyway, you're good."
Mary nodded slowly. "So I'm not dying."
"Not even close," Alex grinned. "But I'm still recommending rest. And a break from anything overly exciting."
He threw a knowing look between the two of them.
Mary raised a brow. "What are you implying?"
"I'm implying," Alex said, picking up his tablet, "that I'm leaving before either of you kills me with tension."
He patted Adam's shoulder on the way out. "Play nice."
Adam didn't answer. He was too busy watching the way Mary adjusted her skirt with a flick of her fingers — graceful, unbothered, dangerously confident.
---
When Alex left, the air shifted.
Adam stepped closer. "You really scared me last night."
She looked up slowly, eyes narrowing just slightly. "Why?"
He blinked. "What?"
"You said I scared you," she said, tilting her head. "It's our first real meeting. We barely know each other. So why would you be scared?"
His throat tightened. "Because seeing you like that… it felt like something I couldn't afford to lose."
Her eyes flickered — just for a second. Then she looked away, casually adjusting her skirt.
"Wow," she said, deadpan. "That's a strong impression for a first meeting. I usually settle for eye contact and a sarcastic comment."
He huffed a low laugh. "You're something else."
"I've been told."
---
There was a pause. Then he said it — carefully.
"Can I have your number?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"So I don't have to track you down through mutual friends next time you pass out in public."
"Charming," she said dryly, then looked him over. "You sure you can handle my contact information? I text with sarcasm and aggression."
"I like a challenge."
Mary stood slowly, heels clicking lightly on the floor, and walked past him to the table where her bag rested. She picked up a pen. Then paused.
"What do I get in return?" she asked, not looking at him.
He smirked. "What do you want?"
She turned slightly, that teasing look in her eyes again. "A promise that you won't get too obsessed. I'm very addictive."
He stepped closer. "Too late."
She hesitated — then finally jotted down the number on the corner of a hospital form and handed it to him.
But just before he could take it, she pulled it back slightly.
"If you text something boring," she warned, "I'm blocking you."
He took it with a slow, knowing smile. "Noted."
"Try not to overuse it. I charge extra for clingy billionaires."
Adam smiled. "I'll take my chances."
---
As he turned to leave, she called after him.
"Adam?"
He looked back.
Her eyes were unreadable, but her voice was softer this time.
"Next time, don't pretend you were nearby."
A pause.
"Just say you came for me."
He didn't answer.
But the door closed behind him with a quiet finality — and his heart beat louder than it had in years.