Chapter 2 At the conference

"Sorry, excuse me, coming through!"

I rushed down the corridor toward the conference room, my heart pounding. I was thirty minutes late. Thirty minutes. Dr. Owen was going to kill me. After everything that happened with the surgery, being late to his meeting was probably the final nail in my coffin.

I'd spent the last two hours hiding in the locker room, trying to make sense of what happened. My hands had stopped shaking, but my mind still spun in circles. How did I perform that surgery? Where did that knowledge come from?

I reached the conference room door and took a deep breath. Through the small window, I could see Dr. Owen standing at the front, addressing the room full of interns and nurses. I carefully turned the handle and slipped inside, trying to be invisible.

The door creaked.

Every head turned toward me. But I barely noticed them. Because Dr. Owen looked up, and our eyes met, and everything else disappeared.

He was tall, maybe six foot three, with dark hair that fell slightly over his forehead. His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass, covered with just a hint of stubble. But it was his eyes that stopped my heart. Deep brown, almost amber in the fluorescent lights, intense and intelligent. He wore his white coat over a black button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms.

My wolf, who'd been silent my entire life, suddenly purred inside my chest. The sound shocked me so much I almost stumbled. Heat flooded through my body, pooling low in my belly. I'd never felt anything like this before.

Dr. Owen held my gaze, and something flickered in his eyes. His nostrils flared slightly, like he was scenting the air. The moment stretched between us, electric and alive.

"I'm sorry," I managed to whisper. "I lost track of time."

"Miss Hart." His voice was deep and rough, and it sent tingles racing across my skin. Every nerve ending came alive at the sound of my name in his mouth. "I believe you must have heard that I don't tolerate late coming, especially from interns."

"I'm so sorry, Dr. Owen. It won't happen again. I was just..." I trailed off. What could I possibly say? I was hiding because I mysteriously became a surgical genius for twenty minutes?

"Take a seat, Miss Hart."

I nodded and started toward an empty chair in the back. But my legs felt weak, unsteady. Because Dr. Owen's eyes followed me with every step. That amber gaze tracked my movement like a predator watching prey. I could feel the weight of his stare on my skin, hot and heavy.

My foot caught on absolutely nothing. I stumbled, barely catching myself on the back of a chair. Heat flooded my cheeks.

From the front row, Tricia's giggle rang out clear and mocking.

I finally made it to my seat and sank down, my face burning. I couldn't look up. Couldn't meet anyone's eyes. Especially not his.

"As I was saying," Dr. Owen continued, his voice filling the room, "emergency procedures require not just skill but judgment. Today's incident proves that point."

I forced myself to look up. Big mistake. He was staring right at me. Our eyes locked again and the air between us seemed to crackle. My breath caught in my throat.

He cleared his throat and looked away, but not before I saw his jaw tighten. "Interns are here to learn, not to take unnecessary risks. The hospital has protocols for a reason."

He was talking about me. About the surgery. But his tone wasn't entirely disapproving. There was something else there. Curiosity maybe? Interest?

I couldn't stop watching him. The way he moved, confident and powerful. The way his hands gestured when he talked, strong and capable. Those were surgeon's hands. Hands that saved lives. I wondered what they'd feel like on my skin and immediately felt my face heat up even more.

Stop it, Mary. He's your boss. And probably way out of your league.

But my body didn't listen. Every time his eyes drifted toward me, which happened more often than it should, my pulse jumped. Once, he was mid sentence about proper chain of command when he glanced at me. Our eyes met and he completely lost his train of thought. He stood there for a full three seconds, just staring, before shaking his head and continuing.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a scalpel.

I noticed Tricia shifting in her seat in the front row. She adjusted her skirt, crossing and uncrossing her legs, leaning forward to give Dr. Owen a better view of her cleavage. She smiled at him, batting her eyelashes.

"That bitch," I muttered under my breath.

"In conclusion," Dr. Owen's voice cut through my thoughts, "unauthorized surgical procedures will be dealt with on a case by case basis. Meeting adjourned."

Everyone stood, gathering their things. I grabbed my notebook and headed for the door, desperate to escape before I embarrassed myself further.

"Miss Hart."

I froze. That voice sent shivers down my spine.

"I need you in my office in thirty minutes. We need to talk."

I turned slowly. He was watching me with those intense eyes, his expression unreadable.

"Okay, sir," I managed to say.

As I turned to leave, I caught sight of Tricia glaring at me like I'd stolen her last meal. She hissed under her breath and stormed past me, her shoulder deliberately bumping mine.

I walked down the hallway in a daze. Dr. Owen wanted to see me. Alone. In his office. My stomach did flips. Was he going to fire me? Reprimand me? Or was this about something else? The way he'd looked at me during the meeting didn't feel like anger.

"Mary! Hey, Mary, wait up!"

I turned to see Derek jogging toward me, his face flushed. I immediately wanted to punch him.

"What do you want?" I kept walking.

"I've been trying to reach you." He fell into step beside me. "How did you do it?"

"How did I what?" I didn't look at him.

"The surgery. Everyone's talking about it. An intern performing a successful Bentall procedure? That's incredible. I heard Dr. Stevens say it was textbook perfect."

"Are you done?"

"Hey, I just wanted to say you were amazing." He touched my arm and I jerked away. "Look, what do you say to dinner this evening? At my place? We could celebrate."

I stopped walking and turned to face him. "Some of us have better things to do, Derek."

"Come on, I know you're still mad about what happened with Tricia." He smiled that charming smile that used to make my heart race. Now it just made me nauseous. "Look, Tricia is a bitch, okay? I don't even love her. It's always been you, Mary. You have to believe me."

I laughed. Actually laughed. "Go puke on yourself, Derek."

I left him standing there and walked toward Dr. Owen's office. With every step, my heart beat faster. I stopped outside his door, staring at the nameplate. Dr. Owen Prescott, Chief of Surgery.

I swallowed hard and knocked.

"Come in."