My Billionaire Captor's Secret Desire

"Her vitals are fading, we need to get her into an operating room, stat!" Yelled one of the doctors in the team.

"Yes doctor," a nurse responded, hurrying off to the intercom to book a room for an emergency operation.

The emergency room was bright and rowdy, two doctors and three nurses stood around the lady on the gurney, from her driver's license they knew her name was Karen – Karen Preston.

"We have one!" The nurse who made the call for the operating room said as she rushed back to the team on Karen.

"Let's move," the doctor said as they all rushed Karen out of the emergency room and to the operating room.

A man stood to follow, but the nurse working on him held him back, "They are going in for surgery, I'll let you know where the room is. For now, hold on while I have a doctor look at this arm," she said in a gentle, firm voice.

The man sat back down with a nod and shortly after, a doctor came over to look at his injured left arm.

The man, much calmer now, looked around the noisy, bustling room. He remembered the moment of impact and shook his head, turning away.

Karen opened her eyes with a jolt. Her heart was racing and her breathing was short and rapid.

She tried to move her head but she could not, she tried her arms, but they did not budge. She closed her eyes and opened them, taking in what she could of her surroundings.

This looks like a hospital.

I'm...I'm in a hospital bed.

She steadied her breathing and listened, trying to get a handle on the sounds around her but there weren't any.

Slowly, she noticed the beeping of a heart-rate monitor and something she assumed to be an air-conditioning unit.

In her line of sight, there was a white lace curtain covering a wide window. She could see the bright blue sky and the clouds.

It suddenly hit her, it's daylight!

It was nighttime when I was driving.

I remember!

It was night and now it's...morning?

Afternoon...?

It's...daylight!

But it was night, dark, late, and I was heading...I was heading to the gallery for a showing...I was on the phone....

And then, her memories came flooding back in.

After she hung up using the button on her car's dashboard, she checked the clock on her phone clipped beside the steering wheel, navigation running, showing her the time to her destination.

She turned the corner, taking a sharp bend, and a car was suddenly barreling toward her from the opposite direction.

It was a large vehicle, coming at full speed, way too fast for a bend, with headlights on full blast.

She had slowed down, but the car suddenly came at her, swerving into her own lane.

Desperate to avoid the oncoming vehicle, she had turned the wheel sharply to the left. The oncoming driver also swerved, but in the panic of the situation, made a wrong decision and swerved to the right, causing a direct impact.

Her smaller sedan could not take the impact from the larger vehicle, a GMC truck, and was thrown across the road, tumbling three times before landing upright on its wheels and spinning to a grinding halt.

She felt shards of glass fall on her.

That was the last thing she remembered before waking up here, in a hospital.

Her heart started to race again and she could hear the heart monitor speeding up.

It was then that she felt someone in the room. Was it a quick breath that was taken, or the imperceptible movement of cloth?

She felt it before she actually heard the person, and she held her breath, struggling to move her eyes, which would not obey her brain's command.

Karen could hear the footsteps of someone approaching the bed. Again, she tried to turn her head but she could not.

The footsteps came around the bed, and her mind raced, is it a doctor...a nurse...an orderly?

But as the person came into view, she saw that this was none of these. Far from it.

This man, almost a giant of a man, gazing down at her was dressed in casual clothes – a dark golf shirt, dark brown belt, and light-colored slacks – and had an expensive haircut.

A very expensive haircut.

He looked familiar, like someone she had seen on TV, in the papers, or on her newsfeed.

He stepped closer to the bed, his mouth moving, but Karen could not hear what he was saying.

She gazed at him, blinking slowly.

As the man stared down at her, he remembered what had happened barely one week ago. How he had waited outside the operating room, after being treated by the nurse and doctor in the emergency room, and how anxious he had been at the accident scene.

He could still hear the screeching of tires, the loud crash, and the tearing and breaking apart sound of metal.

He relived the accident again, for the umpteenth time in the past seven days.

He had opened the driver's side door of the silver GMC truck slowly and stumbled out.

He approached the wrecked vehicle, fumbling in his pockets for his phone as he wiped at a cut on his forehead.

What have you done now, Taylor? He asked himself.

His eyes were unfocused, his body stumbling, swaying from side to side from the impact and the shock of the accident, as he tried to get to the driver of the sedan.

Through the shattered windshield, he saw a mass of tangled brown hair matted with red, and he tried to walk faster. The driver was unconscious, pressed between the dislodged back seat and the airbag from the steering wheel, and covered in broken glass.

Taylor approached the wrecked sedan, desperately trying to hurry but unable to do so. The pain from the accident ripped through his body, slowing him down. He worked frantically to pull out his phone as he moved forward.

He finally extracted his device from his pocket and immediately dialed the emergency number, his blue eyes squinting from pain.

He knew something in him was broken but he didn't know what or where. His only thought was to get to the slender woman covered in red and glass.

The road was still damp from the rain that had fallen earlier that evening, and the weather was cool, but Taylor was sweating profusely, his heart beating rapidly, gasping to catch his breath.

As soon as he reached the driver's side of the sedan, he placed the index and middle fingers of his left hand on her neck to check for a pulse, calming his nerves and holding his breath as he did so.

Her skin was cold to the touch at first, and Taylor felt a crazed panic rising within him. He pulled his hand away, took a deep shaky breath, and tried again.

As he waited to feel her heartbeat, his heart sinking with every passing moment, he suddenly felt it and sighed with relief, there it is, he thought, his heart beating fast.

She's not dead!

Thank God, she's not dead!

He stumbled away from the near-crumpled vehicle and sat on the roadside, waiting for the ambulance to arrive.

It had taken almost twenty minutes for the ambulance to show up and he had ridden with the injured lady, to the hospital.

Throughout the ride, the same words kept repeating in his head, and they were in his head right now as he looked down at the woman gazing at him with hazy eyes.

What am I going to do?

What is my father going to do? He brooded.

Karen lay in bed taking in the stranger in front of her. The giant man seemed to be in his late twenties, broad-shouldered, deep blue eyes like the ocean, but with an edge to them, a broad forehead, ending in a strong brow.

He had a Roman nose, square jaw, and, Karen squinted, her head hurting from all the sensory stimulation, yes...heart-shaped lips.

She knew those lips, she knew that face, those eyes...they had stared back at her enough times for her to know.

That is Taylor Grey!

The socialite!

Why is he here?!

She blinked at him, still unable to speak. He leaned in closer and Karen could smell his cologne, something made of wood, and...is that bergamot?

"Hello? Can you hear me?" his deep silky voice hit her ears. She tried to say 'Yes' but again found that she could not move.

Taylor leaned in a little bit closer, his voice gentle but with a hint of worry, "If you can hear me, blink once."

Karen blinked once, slowly.

"Thank God," he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he gazed at her, his ocean eyes dark and soulful.

"Okay, hold on, I'll get the doctor," Taylor said as he disappeared from her sight.

She heard the door open and shut.

Karen closed her eyes, and without realizing it, she drifted off.

As she closed her eyes, Taylor came back in with a doctor at his side.

After the doctor checked her, he and Taylor left the room.

"What's the next step doctor?" Taylor demanded from the doctor as they stood just outside Karen's room.

"We will keep a close eye on her Mr. Grey, don't worry. You also need to get some rest. Have you had a checkup since last week?" The doctor asked, professional concern on his face.

"That's not important," Taylor responded, his voice strained.

A few hours later, Karen woke to the sounds of a heated conversation going on at the foot of her bed. She opened her eyes and instantly saw two men facing off against each other.

She recognized Taylor immediately. She gazed at the other man, taking him in as the two continued their argument without so much as a glance in her direction.

The other man was a middle-aged man, fifty-something, with black hair and hard, deep blue eyes. A wide brow and a strong chin, his mouth was set in a tight line and his brow was furrowed.

Both men were of the same height and almost the same build. Taylor was slightly slenderer than the man who was standing opposite him. Karen suddenly realized who the other man was.

That's his father – Marshal Grey!

He's a quiet billionaire!

It's Taylor who's always in the news, a real party boy!

Why are the Greys here?!

What is going on?!

She thought to herself, as she struggled to hear what the head of one of the most powerful families in the city was discussing so passionately at her bedside.

Marshal Grey grabbed Taylor by his shoulder and pointed his index finger in Taylor's face.

"What have you done now?" He shouted, the rage in his voice, palpable.

"I get a call in the middle of my meeting! And there are press people outside this hospital right now! I have lawyers on standby to swing this thing and we had to lock down all cyber news and gossip outlets."

Taylor shook his father's hand off him and turned his gaze away, his breathing becoming increasingly rough.

"Are you listening to me?!" Marshal growled, his voice low, controlled.

Taylor gazed back at his father with blazing eyes, his lips tightly closed.

Marshal Grey threw his pointed finger at Karen, lying in her hospital bed, unaware that she was awake and could hear what was being said. "Did you do this? Is this your handiwork? Or did SHE hit YOU?!"

Taylor, tired and stressed from the accident, bit back at his father, "What do you think?" He growled, his voice low as he and his father stared each other down.

Marshal brought his index finger back into Taylor's face. "If this person dies, you wait, you just wait." He straightened himself and backed away from Taylor.

Taylor glanced over at Karen and noticed that her eyes were open, though they were heavy-lidded; probably from the drugs, he thought distractedly, the emerald green irises of her eyes shining brightly.

"She's awake!" Taylor said, excitedly, and he walked briskly out of the room to find a doctor.

Marshal stood at the entrance of the room and stared at Karen.

Karen turned her gaze briefly to his, her eyes accusatory, her lips tight, her expression betraying the fact that she had heard at least part of the conversation between him and his son, before her eyes closed again.

The first few days after Karen woke fully, were the hardest.

"Miss Preston, how are you feeling today?" Doctor Spencer, the honey-brown-eyed doctor asked. He was her attending physician. She secretly called him Doctor Bear, because of the honey color of his eyes and his tall and sturdy build. He made her feel safe.

"I'm not sure...I kind of...it feels like I'm outside my body, looking at all this," she glanced down at her heavily bandaged right arm and her left leg, in a thick cast and with four metal pins inserted.

Her head was still fully wrapped in bandages. "I mean, how..." her voice choked, and she stopped talking.

"It's okay Karen, you will be alright," Doctor Spencer said quickly, placing a hand on her shoulder. He looked sideways at the nurse beside him and nodded once. The nurse ticked a box on the chart she was holding.

"We are taking good care of you here and you really have nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about? How do I work with this...? How do I...," she asked, tears starting to well up in her eyes as she stared at her injuries.

The doctor responded in a kind and gentle tone, "All you need to do now Miss Preston, is to focus on your recovery."

Karen shifted her eyes up to the doctor and saw him gazing at her with an open, confident expression.

She blinked, "Will I really be okay? Will my arm...will my leg work properly after this?" She asked, the fear in her voice clear to the experienced doctor.

"Listen, Karen. I'll be honest with you. There was some nerve damage to both your arm and leg, but we have seen worse wounds heal perfectly. The mindset of the patient plays an important role in this. You need to be confident." He smiled reassuringly, "And, we are all here to help you through this." He said, placing his hand on her shoulder again.

The tears flowed freely now, Karen felt so helpless, so afraid.

Will I be able to heal? By myself?

What's going to happen with the gallery?

I've been here for a week, a whole week!

Jack and his boys will be back at the end of the month. They'll destroy everything!

What am I going to do?

She thought and she could not help but weep.

Karen had been in the hospital for almost two weeks. Her head was no longer fully wrapped in a bandage and she was finally sitting up by herself.

She was scheduled to start physiotherapy by the end of the week and she had completed a few sessions with the hospital's top clinical psychologist.

She was steadily improving but she had too many things on her mind. The event she had missed was supposed to be a big payday. A lot had been riding on her, however, not only had she missed it, it was probably canceled. Knowing her assistant, Marcy, she would have canceled everything once Karen had not shown up.

A large payment was supposed to be made to Jack, a money collector, using the proceeds of that night's event. Not only that, but all her artists for that event had been banking on her. Some much more than others.

This issue was on her mind again when she heard some noise outside and her mind went to the man with the blue eyes.

Ever since the last time she woke up and saw Taylor Grey in her room, she hadn't seen him again but the flowers and other gifts had not stopped.

Men in suits occasionally looked in on her, bringing expensive flower arrangements, fruit baskets, snacks, and other treats, or simply asking how she was doing. When she heard the noise, she was half expecting one of these people to come in again.

And she was right. The door opened and an orderly came in with a fresh basket of lilies. Karen just stared at him as he walked in, smiled at her, and added the basket to the room's collection.

She was not sure why these things kept showing up, but she knew something was up. Though she was a gallery owner, she was still gaining attention and did not have many wealthy patrons, so most of these items would not be from people she knew.

Also, she was weary about the special treatment she was being given, because she knew that the room she was in was definitely not an ordinary private room.

Her insurance would not be covering this and neither she nor her family would have paid for such prestigious service at any hospital in Colorado Springs.

Yet, she was looked after by top-notch doctors, nurses, and attendants.

Anytime she thought of these things, her mind would go back to Taylor and she believed he had something to do with it.

A few minutes after the orderly left, Karen pressed the call button for the nurse.

"Hello ma'am, do you need help with anything?" the attending nurse asked Karen as she entered the room.

"Yes, these...flowers," Karen said slowly; though recovering well, she was recovering slowly. Excessive talking or movement wore her out quickly and she wanted to ask some questions before another set of visitors showed up to distract her.

"Who are they from?" She groaned softly at the nurse.

"Oh," the nurse responded, gazing at the flowers that filled the room, "there are many..."

"Yes," Karen cut in, "I mean, the ones without cards. The fruits and other things as well," Karen asked, heaving slightly as she fought to get the words out. "Who is sending them here?" she asked, staring fixedly at the nurse.

She is not making eye contact, Karen mused, leaning back heavily on the bed.

But I think I have a pretty good idea who keeps sending them to me.

The nurse's eyes darted about, her hands clasped in front of her, not speaking. Karen smiled weakly and asked her for some water to drink.

The nurse, looking relieved about the new request, hurriedly adjusted the bed for Karen and was hurrying out when Karen chimed, "Please no more flowers, or any other gifts, I think I have had enough."

Karen had fallen asleep after the nurse's visit and now she woke up to find a new visitor at her bedside. Marcy, her assistant at the gallery, was sitting beside Karen's bed, holding her left hand in both of hers.

She's been crying Karen noticed, as she gave Marcy a small smile. It was a weak smile, thanks to the drugs and other mental exertions Karen was under, but it was enough so that Marcy could see that Karen was lucid and clear-headed.

"I'm so sorry Karen. I'm so sorry." Marcy blurted out, breaking into tears. Karen blinked slowly at Marcy. "Hey," Karen said hoarsely, her green eyes, soft, looking kindly at Marcy.

Marcy wiped the tears from her face. "If you hadn't been on the phone; if you hadn't been speaking with me..."

Karen used all her strength to squeeze Marcy's hands. Marcy felt the light pressure and glanced down at her hands then back up at Karen. Karen's eyes were wide and clear, looking intently at Marcy and Marcy understood that Karen was not mad at her.

Marcy sniffled, "I wanted to tell you that the showing that day, we weren't able to hold it so...everything is on hold right now and all the artwork is in storage."

Karen frowned with difficulty and a small grunt escaped her lips. She knew Marcy would cancel it, but it was still disappointing for her to hear it.

Marcy hurried on quickly before Karen could interrupt her, "The shows for the rest of the quarter, and the next, have also been canceled."

Marcy rested her hand on Karen's arm, "We'll reschedule everything. I just wanted to let you know that I've taken care of it all. I've taken care of the artists; they understand the situation."

"Don't worry about anything, okay? Once you're a hundred percent, we'll get back on the job and everything is going to be fine, Karen." Marcy sniffed again.

Karen stared at Marcy, her face reddening and her lips starting to quiver. She started to speak but no sounds came out of her open mouth.