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The Stoic Nurse's Obsession: My Secret Queen
img img The Stoic Nurse's Obsession: My Secret Queen img Chapter 3 3
3 Chapters
Chapter 8 8 img
Chapter 9 9 img
Chapter 10 10 img
Chapter 11 11 img
Chapter 12 12 img
Chapter 13 13 img
Chapter 14 14 img
Chapter 15 15 img
Chapter 16 16 img
Chapter 17 17 img
Chapter 18 18 img
Chapter 19 19 img
Chapter 20 20 img
Chapter 21 21 img
Chapter 22 22 img
Chapter 23 23 img
Chapter 24 24 img
Chapter 25 25 img
Chapter 26 26 img
Chapter 27 27 img
Chapter 28 28 img
Chapter 29 29 img
Chapter 30 30 img
Chapter 31 31 img
Chapter 32 32 img
Chapter 33 33 img
Chapter 34 34 img
Chapter 35 35 img
Chapter 36 36 img
Chapter 37 37 img
Chapter 38 38 img
Chapter 39 39 img
Chapter 40 40 img
Chapter 41 41 img
Chapter 42 42 img
Chapter 43 43 img
Chapter 44 44 img
Chapter 45 45 img
Chapter 46 46 img
Chapter 47 47 img
Chapter 48 48 img
Chapter 49 49 img
Chapter 50 50 img
Chapter 51 51 img
Chapter 52 52 img
Chapter 53 53 img
Chapter 54 54 img
Chapter 55 55 img
Chapter 56 56 img
Chapter 57 57 img
Chapter 58 58 img
Chapter 59 59 img
Chapter 60 60 img
Chapter 61 61 img
Chapter 62 62 img
Chapter 63 63 img
Chapter 64 64 img
Chapter 65 65 img
Chapter 66 66 img
Chapter 67 67 img
Chapter 68 68 img
Chapter 69 69 img
Chapter 70 70 img
Chapter 71 71 img
Chapter 72 72 img
Chapter 73 73 img
Chapter 74 74 img
Chapter 75 75 img
Chapter 76 76 img
Chapter 77 77 img
Chapter 78 78 img
Chapter 79 79 img
Chapter 80 80 img
Chapter 81 81 img
Chapter 82 82 img
Chapter 83 83 img
Chapter 84 84 img
Chapter 85 85 img
Chapter 86 86 img
Chapter 87 87 img
Chapter 88 88 img
Chapter 89 89 img
Chapter 90 90 img
Chapter 91 91 img
Chapter 92 92 img
Chapter 93 93 img
Chapter 94 94 img
Chapter 95 95 img
Chapter 96 96 img
Chapter 97 97 img
Chapter 98 98 img
Chapter 99 99 img
Chapter 100 100 img
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Chapter 3 3

The cafeteria at St. Jude's was a study in social stratification. The athletes claimed the round tables in the center. The socialites took the booths by the windows. The academics huddled near the kitchen doors.

And the outcasts... they floated.

Dallas held her tray. It was light. A bowl of wilted lettuce, an apple that looked bruised, and a glass of water. She moved through the aisles, her eyes scanning for a gap, a space where she could disappear.

She was passing the table where the football team sat. Jett Sterling was there. He was the son of a billionaire tech mogul, loud, brash, and currently leaning back in his chair with his legs stretched out into the walkway.

Dallas saw the leg. She knew he saw her coming.

She didn't stop. She didn't walk around.

She kept her pace steady. Just as her boot was about to make contact with his shin, Jett shifted his foot, trying to trip her.

It was a clumsy move. Amateur.

Dallas didn't trip. She adjusted her center of gravity in mid-stride. She brought her heavy combat boot down. Hard.

Right on the toe of his limited edition Air Jordans.

Gah! Jett yelped. He jerked his leg back, nearly tipping his chair over. He grabbed his foot, his face twisting in pain.

The cafeteria went silent. The chatter died instantly.

Whitney, who was sitting next to him, jumped up. Are you blind? You just stepped on Sterling! Do you know how much those shoes cost?

Dallas stopped. She turned slowly. She looked down at Jett, who was rubbing his sneaker.

Apologies, Dallas said. Her voice was flat. Your legs were obstructing the flow of traffic. I assumed they were detachable, given how little you seem to use the brain connected to them.

A collective gasp sucked the air out of the room.

Jett looked up. His eyes were wide. Shock replaced the pain.

Did you just call me stupid? he asked. He sounded genuinely baffled.

I called you anatomically inefficient, Dallas corrected.

Whitney shrieked. You little freak!

She lunged. It was a telegraphed move. Whitney reached for Dallas's tray, intending to flip it onto her.

Dallas didn't dodge. She simply rotated her wrist. A subtle, fluid motion.

As Whitney's hand hit the edge of the tray, the glass of ice water didn't fall toward Dallas. It launched forward. A perfect arc.

Splash.

The water hit Whitney square in the chest. It soaked her white blouse instantly, rendering it transparent. The ice cubes slid down into her cleavage.

Whitney screamed. It was a sound that shattered glass. She looked down at herself, horrified.

My hand slipped, Dallas said.

Jett Sterling stared at Dallas. He looked at Whitney, dripping wet and hysterical. Then he looked back at Dallas.

A slow grin spread across his face.

Damn, Jett said. He let out a low whistle.

Boone Faulkner was watching from the table over. He had a sandwich halfway to his mouth. He lowered it. He looked at Erika, who was sitting beside him, her face pale with embarrassment.

Your sister has aim, Boone murmured.

She's an animal, Erika hissed, gripping her fork until her knuckles turned white. A feral animal.

Mr. Henderson, the Dean of Discipline, came running. What is going on here? Ruiz!

Whitney was sobbing now, pointing a shaking finger at Dallas. She threw water on me! She attacked Jett!

Henderson turned on Dallas, his face purple. Is this true?

Jett stood up. He towered over Dallas. He looked down at her, his eyes searching hers. He was looking for fear. He found none.

Actually, Sir, Jett drawled. Whitney bumped into her. It was an accident. Gravity, you know?

Whitney stopped crying. She stared at Jett, betrayed.

Dallas didn't say thank you. She held Jett's gaze for a second longer, her expression unreadable.

Dean Henderson looked confused. Well... clean this up. Ruiz, go to the nurse's office and get an ice pack for Miss Whitney. Now.

It was a punishment disguised as an errand.

Dallas put her tray down on the nearest table. She turned and walked out of the cafeteria.

As she passed Jett, he leaned in.

Nice vocabulary, trash, he whispered.

Dallas didn't break stride.

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