The sound of her alarm cut through the early morning silence like a blade. 4:00 AM.
Gina groaned, rolled over, and let out a breath before sitting up. No time to hesitate. Today was her first official day.
She moved with quiet purpose through the apartment, getting dressed in the soft blue blouse and tailored black slacks she laid out the night before. Her stomach felt tight… not from nerves, but from hunger. Pregnancy hunger was a different kind of beast, but she ignored it for now. There would be time to eat later, she hoped.
By 4:30, she was out the door, driving the sleek black car the Huntley Corporation had "provided." It purred beneath her, the leather seat hugging her body like it had been made for her. Gina felt the contrast, driving luxury while still unsure if she was even safe.
She approached the Huntley building. It loomed in the still-dark sky, impossibly tall, each floor a glowing secret. Security was everywhere, men in black, stone-faced and alert. As she pulled up to the main gate, she reached for her access ID from her work phone and handed it over.
The guard scanned it, gave a nod, and motioned for another to check the interior of the car. Trunk. Underside. All clear.
She was waved through to a second checkpoint in the underground garage. Another ID scan. Another sweep. Then the guard directed her to her own personal parking space, with the words Dr. Gina written on the wall. That was fast.
She blinked. When had they set all this up. She stepped out of the car, trying not to feel overwhelmed. Her heels echoed softly against the pristine concrete. Another security escort met her and guided her to the glass doors. Gina handed over her ID once again, and only then did the doors slide open.
Inside, a red-haired woman was waiting. She barely nodded. "This way."
Gina kept her cool, noticing the woman's outfit was eerily similar to the one from yesterday's visitor, tight skirt, buttoned shirt that barely held on. Was there a dress code for being sexy?
They passed through two more checkpoints, doors only opening after Gina flashed her ID again. Finally, they reached the reception area.
Two men were standing there, one holding his ribs like something inside him was broken, the other leaning casually against the wall, eyeing everything like a predator. Gina's gut twisted. Something was wrong with this place, but she couldn't turn back now.
The receptionist barely looked up. "Room 3. You've got incoming."
She slid Gina a file, nodded toward a hallway, and turned back to her screen.
The two men followed Gina without a word. One limped, clearly in pain, while the other gave her a long, lazy once over. She opened the office door and was stunned to find it already prepped with a white lab coat hanging neatly on a hook by the exam bed. Her name embroidered on it.
No introduction.
No welcome packet.
No equipment brief.
Just straight into the fire.
She flipped open the file. Gunshot wound. Dislocated shoulder. Fractured ribs. One case of chlamydia. What kind of place was this? And one odd thing was that, the file had no last name. Just a Chris.
She scanned the room for supplies, adjusting the lights, and slipping into the white coat. She hadn't worn one in a while, but it still felt familiar. Like muscle memory.
The man who looked like he got into a car accident or worse, lowered himself onto the exam bed with a wince.
"Hello there. I'm Dr. Gina," she said softly, keeping it professional. "Let's see what we're working with today."
"You should see the other guy," he smirked, lifting his shirt to reveal bruises blooming in every shade of purple and black.
Behind her, the second man reached out and smacked her ass as she passed him.
She threw him a sharp look. "Touch me again, and I'll show you where we keep the defibrillators."
He laughed. She didn't.
She examined the patient, checking his reflexes, gently prodding his ribs, looking for anything that felt off. He didn't say much, and she stopped expecting him to. She'd get the real story from the damage.
Her entire morning flew by like that. Quiet but not so quiet, tense, borderline chaotic. She didn't meet the surgeon she was meant to assist. No introductions to other staff. Just her, a steady stream of dodgy men needing treatment, and no idea if she was doing this right.
Around 2 PM, a woman walked into her office. Older than the others, but just as beautiful, and dressed like every woman here. Confidence, cleavage, and perfectly styled curls.
"Come," she said coolly.
Gina followed her, still wearing her white coat. They walked down a hallway to a locked door. The woman opened it, and Gina was met with a private rest space with a small kitchen, couch, bed, and bathroom.
"For you," the woman said. Then, as she turned to leave, she added under her breath, "Nobody gets this kind of treatment on their first day. I wonder what you did to earn it."
Her eyes dropped to Gina's stomach, then flicked back up. She didn't wait for an answer and just left, closing the door softly behind her.
Gina stood there, unsure whether to be grateful or offended.
There was a knock. A small man entered, pushing a food tray. Pasta. Rich, cheesy, and steaming hot. It smelled divine.
He didn't say anything, just placed the tray down. She offered a polite, "Thank you," and he gave a small nod before disappearing.
She devoured the meal. She hadn't realized how hungry she was. Maybe she could survive this job.
After a quick 30-minute nap, she returned to work. More patients. More vague injuries. No surgeon. Still no real introduction to her coworkers. By the end of the day, she was exhausted. Her feet ached. Her brain was fried.
She pulled out her personal phone to check the time and froze.
Tess (12 missed calls)
Marcus (10 missed calls)
Her pulse quickened. She hadn't even thought to check her phone all day. Guilt settled in fast, especially about Tess… God knows what her best friend was imagining.
Then her work phone buzzed.
She hadn't checked that one either. It had been tucked inside the coat pocket all afternoon. She pulled it out, the sleek black screen already lighting up with a single message and one missed call.
Adrian Huntley – 1 Missed Call
She swallowed. Her heart paused.
She barely hesitated before hitting redial.
The phone didn't even ring twice.
"Gina," Adrian answered, his voice smooth and clipped, not a hint of warmth. "Never let me be a missed call again."
She opened her mouth to speak, to explain that she had been with a patient and hadn't seen the call, but he didn't give her the chance.
"Meet me at reception. Now."
The line went dead.
Gina stared at the screen for a second, stunned. She blinked. Now?
She looked down at herself, still wearing her embroidered white coat, her blouse wrinkled beneath it, and her bun halfway undone from the chaos of her shift. Her first instinct was to smooth her shirt, check her face in the small wall mirror, fix her hair.
Instead, she let out a breath, peeled the white coat off, and hung it neatly by the hook. She grabbed the work phone, slipped it into her back pocket, and headed out the door.
The hallway was quiet as she made her way toward the front desk. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest and not just from nerves but anticipation. Why was he here? What did he want? And more importantly… why was she kind of excited to see him again?
As she turned the corner into the reception area, her breath caught.
There he was.
Adrian Huntley.
Seated like he owned the entire building and which he probably did. His charcoal gray suit hugged his tall frame perfectly, expensive but understated. His dark curls framed his strong face just right, and the lighting overhead gave his green eyes an almost unnatural glow.
He was impossibly handsome, and he wasn't doing a damn thing.
Just sitting there. Looking at her.
God help me, she thought. Why does he look like that?
Her steps faltered, but she caught herself and kept walking, holding her head high even though every nerve in her body was screaming. As she neared, he stood slowly, his full height almost intimidating. His jaw was set in that unreadable, brooding expression she was starting to associate with him.
"I don't like being ignored," he said simply, his eyes locked on hers.
"I wasn't… " she began.
"I know you're new, but that's not an excuse. If you're going to work for me, you need to stay accessible at all times. There are no exceptions."
Her mouth went dry. She nodded. "I understand."
He gave her a once over, eyes lingering on the slight flush in her cheeks. "Busy day?"
She nodded again, trying to suppress the weird flutter in her chest. "Yes. Nonstop."
"I heard. You held your own." He didn't smile, but the edge in his voice softened barely. "Still. There's something I need to talk to you about."
She blinked. "Now?"
He gestured with his head toward the elevators. "Walk with me."
Gina didn't ask questions. She followed him without hesitation, though she could feel the receptionist watching her like a hawk. They entered the elevator in silence, and as soon as the doors closed, the silence became a little heavier.
"I had lunch with the head surgeon today," Adrian finally said.
She glanced at him in surprise. "Oh?"
"He told me you're diligent. You work fast. Quiet. No attitude. You're green, but sharp. He said you didn't ask unnecessary questions. I appreciate that."
How did the surgeon know?
Gina tilted her head. "Why does that sound like the beginning of a 'but'?"
Adrian didn't smile, but something flickered in his eyes. "There's no 'but.' I just don't hand out compliments often. Don't let it go to your head."
She gave a half smile. "Noted."
They exited the elevator into a quieter corridor with sleek walls, polished floors, no staff in sight.
"Tomorrow, I want you assisting in surgery," he said plainly. "We'll be starting small. Controlled environment. It's time to see how far that sharpness goes."
Gina nodded slowly. Her nerves twisted, but it wasn't fear. It was pressure. Opportunity. She could do this… right?!
As they reached a door, he paused and turned to her, his tone more measured now.
"You handled today well, Gina. You didn't ask the men why they were here, or what really happened and I appreciate that."
She shrugged slightly. "I figured if it mattered, you or they would tell me."
"I wanted to see if you'd survive day one. You did."
He looked down at her, something unreadable in his expression, and added, "You're doing fine. Keep it that way."
Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, disappearing around a corner.
Gina stood there for a moment, unsure if she was supposed to follow him or return to her office. Her work phone buzzed in her pocket, breaking the silence.
Another message.
Tomorrow's surgery prep: 5:45 AM arrival. Locker 8 assigned. Scrubs will be waiting.
Gina exhaled, shoulders finally sagging as the tension left her body.
That man… he was intense. Cold. Commanding. But something about the way he paid attention, even if it was silent, told her she'd already passed test one.
She headed back to her office, heart still doing a marathon in her chest. She didn't know what tomorrow held, but if Adrian Huntley said she was in, then she was in.
God help her.