Mysterious of CEO

time to think. And everything pointed to trauma to the abdominal region from the impact of the collision. It was a whirlwind of activity, a battle against time. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, sharpening my senses and focusing me on the task at hand. All around me, the residents watched intently, eager to learn from their masters. I needed to prove my worth, not only to her, but to myself. Every breath, every movement was an affirmation of my ability, my determination.

In the heat of the battle, the tension between us intensified, a silent duel of intelligence and will, each with their own function; me in the head and hers in the abdominal region. After a few minutes of frantic work, Amy stabilized the patient. "Ready, Dr. Clark," Amy said coldly. "We need to get him to an operating room now," she ordered, her tense voice cutting through the cold air. Her blue eyes, shining with a mixture of determination and urgency, fixed on mine. - There is a serious internal injury and he needs immediate surgery - she concluded and I nodded. We ran through the hospital corridors, side by side, towards the operating room and a team from the unit with a single goal: to save a life. Adrenaline ran through our veins. The patient, a dead weight in our arms, was our only mission. Merciless lights. Shiny instruments. Blood and sweat mixed together. The operating room was a battlefield, a stage for our expertise. My hands, steady and precise, worked tirelessly. Amy, a hurricane of strength and concentration at my side. I, Tyler, a neurosurgeon, was focused on the head trauma. While Amy, the "blonde devil" of trauma, an abdominal specialist, searched for the source of the internal bleeding. It would be long hours of surgery, an epic battle against death, every movement, every cut, every point crucial to the success of the operation. Amy was an exceptional trauma surgeon – traumatologist – I cannot deny that. In fact, we were good together, there was an inexplicable connection between us in the operating room. In my mind, the image of the two of us in four walls, on top of my bed, invades my thoughts. It was always like that, when someone with a brain injury arrived, I was called. And when the blonde devil was on duty, a good fight was inevitable. I was determined to do my job to save the patient, and she was just as determined. I will not deny under any circumstances that I like to see her in action, completely focused on her work and angry with me, irritating her. Finally, after hours of "fighting", we managed to stabilize the patient. The liver, severely damaged by the blow, was repaired with precision, technique and care. A sigh of relief escaped my lips. "We did it," I murmured exhaustedly. Exhausted but victorious, we took off our clothes, gloves, masks, and aprons. A smile of relief formed on the devil's lips, her eyes shining with something I had never seen before. - Thank God! - Amy thanked. - It was complicated, but we managed to save his life, despite the blow to his liver - she concluded, her voice full of emotion. - Fortunately, the head trauma was not as serious as I imagined, - I commented. - That's right! It was hard for you to accept it. - She reproached me, rolling her eyes. We walked side by side to the sink, carrying our hands symbolically stained with blood. The tension between us was palpable, a mixture of gratitude, exhaustion and something deeper, something I couldn't define. - Always wanting to be right, Dr. Kent - I teased, with a crooked smile. I nudged her, testing her limits or to see how far I could go. - I'm always right, Dr. Clark, you know that well - she said disdainfully. - In a matter of seconds I have to assess the patient's condition. If it weren't for the hemorrhage, I wouldn't have come face to face with you - she concluded, washing her hands. Her eyes fixed on mine for a moment, and I felt a wave of heat run through my body. There was something more than rivalry, something I couldn't decipher. A gleam of complicity hidden in her icy gaze. "Touché!" I agreed with a wink and we headed together towards the exit of the operating room. In the end, the patient's life was saved. But, in that operating room, something else had happened. An unexpected connection, a spark of desire that defied logic and reason. "Have you finished your shift for today, Amy?" I asked, when we reached the women's locker room, with her stopping at the door. "Thank God!" she exclaimed. "I'm exhausted, just dust. I want a long bath, food and bed," she declared, releasing her blond hair from its ponytail. "Do you need someone to wash your back?" I suggested with a mischievous smile on my lips. "No, thank you!" she refused, rolling her eyes. "I have a brush to do that job." An amused smile appeared on her lips. "What a shame!" I exclaimed. "Are you never going to give up, Dr. Clark?" - she asked, fixing her hair and staring at my face. Amy was beautiful and fascinated me in every way: her looks, her strong and determined gender, her sarcasm. Everything about her fascinated me. - I'm persistent when I want something or someone - I whispered close to her ear. - And, I want you very much, Amy. But, I'm patient. I turned on my heel and headed to the men's locker room, which was next to the women's. I went into the bathroom, opened my creaking metal locker and grabbed my clothes. I walked to a stall, dressed quickly, the adrenaline from the surgery still running through my system. With my keys and wallet in hand, I closed the locker and headed towards the parking lot. I was feeling the same way as the devil, exhausted, just dust, but with

breaking the silence of the night. The city lights stretched out before me like a sea of ​​diamonds, however, my thoughts were elsewhere. Digressing, how did I end up here, and Los Angeles? A question hammered my mind, and had been with me ever since I accepted my brother Benjamin's invitation to work at the hospital he owned and ran. All the family members were doctors, specialists in neurosurgery. A tradition that began with my paternal grandfather, passed down through my father, brother and now me.

He insisted that he needed someone he could trust to take his place, while he managed the board and the surgeries. Not that there weren't other competent neurosurgeons, but Benjamin argued that putting them in his place would overburden them. So, I decided to accept his invitation. Leaving behind my life in Chicago, my hometown, where I finished my neurosurgery residency and began practicing medicine at the same hospital where the Clark family built their history. And here I am! It had been more than two years since I moved to the city. It welcomed me with its pleasant climate and mild winters, very different from the harsh cold of Chicago. The women here are wonderful, always impeccable and with their sculpted bodies, walking the streets with a naturalness that pleased me. But, something bothered me. Despite the stunning beauty of the women, I felt that something was missing. A genuine connection, a soul mate who would challenge me and complete me. And, ever since the blonde devil came into my life, this feeling intensified. She intrigued me, disturbed me and excited me with the same intensity. It was as if a hurricane had passed through me, leaving a trail of destruction and, at the same time, a strange sense of peace. My brother Benjamin, on the other hand, found deep roots in Los Angeles. He married the beautiful Helena, and he, don't listen to me, is mortally jealous of his wife. And he had a son, my beloved nephew Henry. Now, he was competing for his attention with Maya, Helena's cousin. With the purchase of the hospital and the wedding, Benjamin brought the whole family here. According to my mother, Abby, he claimed that he couldn't stay away from his grandson. Pure emotional blackmail, aimed at my father, Charles. Who does everything for her. I don't blame him: the love between them was enviable, and they deserved to enjoy life after so many years of tireless work. When I find the woman of my life, I will do the same as my brother. I want a love like his for his Helena and their son, a love that made them crazy about each other. He was very protective, especially after the accident Helena suffered that almost took them. However, until that happened, I preferred to keep things simple. My motto was: Never repeat the same woman. I don't have time for romance or seduction games. I prefer practicality and the simplicity of casual encounters, so I avoid frustration and maintain control of my life. I wasn't a scoundrel, just a practical man avoiding future problems. I'm just practical! Until the blonde devil showed up and messed everything up. She defied my rules, took away my peace and quiet, and practically made me annulled to other women. It was as if, all of a sudden, I only had eyes for her and the irresistible attraction she exerted on me. I parked my car in my space, set the alarm, locked the doors, and got in the elevator, going up to my apartment. The water from the shower massaged my tired body, washing away the tension of the day. After the shower, I prepared a quick snack and threw myself into bed. Tomorrow would be a new day. With new challenges, appointments, visits to patients in the ICU and in the ward. But one thing was certain: Amy had taken over my thoughts and didn't intend to leave any time soon. What did the future hold for us? I didn't know, but one thing was certain, life would never be the same with Amy Kent in my life. 2 Tyler Clark The shrill sound of my cell phone pulled me from my sleep, the annoying melody echoing through the dark room. Fumbling with the device, the incandescent blue light bathing my still-sleeping face, I unlocked the screen and saw my best friend's name. Cursing him, I answered the call; it was Scott Wilson on the other end of the line. It must be something very important at this time of the night. "It has to be urgent, damn it," I yelled, growling as I answered the call. Already foreseeing that nothing good would come of this conversation. Scott, my best friend and a big businessman in the hotel industry in the country, especially in Las Vegas. He was known for his eccentric personality and his hectic lifestyle, especially at night because of the hotel/casino he managed. His fortune, inherited and multiplied by his business acumen, never stopped him from seeking new adventures. "Ty, you won't believe what I just found out," he began, his voice thick with suspense. "Does the last name Kent remind you of anyone?" he asked. "The only person I know with that last name is the devil," I replied, sitting up in bed and rubbing my tired eyes. "Why are you asking me this?" "I met the most powerful tycoon in Las Vegas, owner of one of the biggest casinos here," he said. "Guess his last name?" he asked, his voice thick with meaning. A chill ran down my spine. Amy, the woman who intrigued and tormented me, had always been a mystery. She was discreet, reserved about her past, and had never mentioned or revealed her life before moving to Los Angeles. "Kent?" I whispered, massaging my temples. The possibility that Amy had any connection to this tycoon spoke volumes: her elegance, her politeness, was refined. "Bingo!" Scott exclaimed sarcastically. "And guess what his daughter's name is?" he teased, irritating me. "Amy!" - I mumbled, the penny finally sinking in. There was silence on the line as I tried to process this explosive information. Amy, the devil, the mysterious woman who fascinated me, was the heiress to an unimaginable fortune. - Holy shit, man - I confessed, my voice low and hoarse. - I don't know anything about her life. She just came from Las Vegas, that's all. - I mumbled, still in shock, looking into the darkness of the night. Scott, always the provocateur, didn't miss the opportunity to needle me. - Quite conscientious, don't you think? That your devil has the same last name as a local tycoon? - he questioned, his voice full of malice, and stirring up my frustration. - I'll try to find out something, man. - I replied, keeping my cool. - But couldn't it wait until tomorrow morning? The son of a bitch was trying to piss me off, I took a deep breath, trying to control myself from cursing him. - Damn, Ty, you should thank me! - Scott retorted, pretending to be offended. - I'm giving you some golden information, you ungrateful bastard! - he said indignantly, laughing on the other end of the line. - Okay, Scott, thanks! - I replied ironically. - Is that okay? - snorting and rolling my eyes

Finding out the truth became a life mission. Unraveling Amy Kent, her secrets, her nuances, every detail that made her up. And who better to help me than my own brother, Benjamin? Or, who knows, my dear sister-in-law, if I was persuasive enough. Expressing my interest in Amy was inevitable, opening my heart to obtain the information I so desired. Helena's reluctance to get involved with Benjamin, because he was one of the owners of the hospital, served as a reminder of the challenges she had faced. But the need to know more about my blonde devil was uncontrollable.

My brother, with his insistence on winning over his wife Helena, could be the key to obtaining information about Miss Amy Kent. My mind was spinning in circles, thoughts colliding in an incessant whirlwind, elaborating strategies and plans. It won't be easy, damn it! I muttered softly. Relaxing and going back to sleep were an almost impossible task. The damned devil dominated my thoughts, disturbing me like no other woman had ever done. Never in my entire life had I felt this way about a woman. Especially without having spent a single night with her. Amy was already turning my life upside down without even knowing it. And what was the problem with her being the daughter of a tycoon? Why was I creating so many problems over something that wasn't even a problem yet? Because I was making a fuss! I needed a strong drink to calm my thoughts and relax. I walked to the bar, pouring myself a generous shot of whiskey. The liquid went down burning my throat, providing momentary relief. I placed the glass on the sideboard and dragged myself to the bedroom, lay down on the bed, seeking the sleep that stubbornly eluded me. And I succumbed to sleep. I felt my body relax instantly, I placed the glass on the sideboard and went to my bedroom, lay down on the bed and fell asleep. The day dawned hectic, with the secretary informing me about the extensive schedule of patients waiting in the waiting room. The routine in the office promised to be intense. Visits to patients in the ward also awaited me, increasing the workload. The need for a trustworthy assistant became increasingly evident. As the supervisor of the third-year residents, I decided to closely observe the most qualified person to assist me. He would be responsible for patient visits in my absence, reporting to me and monitoring the progress of patients in the ward and in the ICU. Having an assistant would allow me to focus on new cases or future surgeries, optimizing my time and reducing stress. The search for this person became crucial. That day, however, I still didn't have this help. The doctor's visits fell on my own shoulders. And, who knows, in the middle of the rush, I could make a quick stop at the emergency room to see Amy, the blonde devil. "Holy shit," I whispered. She's probably off duty after her 24-hour shift. I thought. I wasn't so lucky, here I am. A wave of frustration overcame me. The chance of seeing her was slim, and the damn time was consuming me. With a sigh of resignation, I turned my attention back to the list of patients. The devil would have to wait. For now. - Damn it! 3 Amy Kent After 24 exhausting hours in the hospital, the break was more than deserved, by the way. The house was crying out for complete organization, Mercedes, my faithful domestic squire, was unable to come in due to an intestinal virus. I needed to tidy up the house, the clothes needed to be washed, the grocery shopping needed to be done, the list of tasks was long. The week would be spent working alone. - I grumbled. With my mind still foggy from my shift, I started to put the house in order. It was time to take care of myself. Grocery shopping and a run along the beach and, who knows, a good book or a relaxing series later. Life in Los Angeles gave me peace, the chance to leave the past behind, even if only for a few hours. The morning sun promised a warm day in Los Angeles. Since I moved here, running has become my refuge. Breathing in the fresh air, watching the sea move... Activities that connected me with the present distanced me from the painful memories that insisted on haunting me. Moving to the Californian city did me a lot of good. The wounds were still there, but little by little, they were starting to heal, slowly. I needed to move on, that was my mantra. Not that I wasn't doing it, but it required an extra, huge effort. Change my focus, avoid thoughts that tied me to the past. Otherwise, inertia would take over me, leaving me prostrate on the couch, submerged in my own pain. Allowing memories to paralyze me was out of the question. But, first of all, I needed a moment for myself. I got up from the chair on the balcony and headed to my room, after tidying up. I put on my running gear: black leggings, top and tank top, put on my running shoes, tied my long, blonde hair in a ponytail and slathered on sunscreen. I grabbed my bag and placed my sunglasses on the armchair in the corner, ready to face the day, with its challenges and its little joys. Life was a gift, and I was willing to make the most of it. In my white Audi Q3 SUV, I drove through the busy city streets, heading to the first item on my list: the supermarket. The music playing on the radio was a backdrop for my restless mind, thoughts swirling around the night shift and the race that awaited me. ❤ With my heart pounding and my mind calm, the morning sun bathed my face, while the sea stretched out before me, infinite and beautiful. On heavier days, when the emotional burden was too much, running was the only force that kept me from succumbing. It was a new day, a new chance to start over. After the arduous journey in the hospital, running along the shore was an almost religious ritual. Almost forty minutes of rapid breathing, sweat dripping down my body, the constant rhythm helping me exorcise the ghosts of the past and the hardships of the present. Medicine was my passion, my life choice. Specializing in trauma surgery put me on the line between life and death every day, challenging and rewarding. The emergency room could be a difficult place, with surreal cases that defied logic, irreparable losses, adrenaline coursing through my veins; all of this was part of my routine. Running was my refuge, my escape valve, a moment to relax, clear my head and take care of my mental and physical health, along with my therapy. I also enjoyed going out with my hospital colleagues to drink or dance. Letting loose on the dance floor was like washing my soul, a ritual that allowed me to forget everything for a few hours. And, of course, I couldn't deny the pleasure of good sweaty sex. Dr. Tyler Clark's advances became increasingly difficult to resist. Ever since I started working at the hospital, almost a year ago. He courted me, showed interest, flirted incessantly. His reputation as a player was known by everyone, of collecting women in his bed without ever repeating. And the idea of ​​being just another one in his long list didn't appeal to me, it made me apprehensive. But there was something about him that attracted me. His intensity, his intelligence, his humor were irresistible. It was as if an invisible force was pulling me towards him, despite all my reservations. I avoided him, tried to stay focused on work, but his piercing blue eyes followed me everywhere. A dilemma that consumed me: give in to temptation and indulge in a risky night, or keep my distance and