My Shameful Secret Page 13

  “You’re so damn perfect,” he mutters as he pulls his mouth away. Cupping my face, he grates out, “Be damn sure you’re only like this with me.”

  I blink at the possessive tone in his voice, not at all expecting it. I’ve stalked – I mean I’ve researched about him for a long time. I’ve seen him with other women and he had always been calm and collected with them.

  Does that mean I’m different, I wonder apprehensively, and if I am – is that a good thing?

  Mr. X draws me out of the shower cubicle and walks us back to the locker room. The fact that he’s naked doesn’t seem to matter to him, but it’s the opposite for me. Even with what’s happened, I still keep my gaze away from his naked form, feeling awkward and self-conscious.

  “Give me a minute to dress?”

  I nod and take a seat at the corner of the bench, still not looking his way.

  “Are you purposely not looking at me?”

  I can practically hear him grinning, but I still don’t look at him.

  A few moments later, he’s fully dressed and he kneels in front of me, a cocky smirk on his handsome face. “You’re just too adorable, Anisia.”

  “You always say that,” I grumble, “but it never sounds like a compliment.”

  “It is,” he assures me.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Rising to his feet, he pulls me up as well and presses a kiss on my forehead. “Thank you for this morning. I can’t wait until you blow me again.”

  Oh, this man and his wicked words.

  “Can you please stop being so explicit?” I plead.

  He places a quick hard kiss on my lips, saying, “Never.” He pulls away, and I watch him make a call to Matt, who would then walk me out of the gym. Sliding his phone back into his pocket, he says, “When people ask what you’re doing here, let Matt do the talking.”

  “O-okay.”

  Glimpsing my uncertain expression, Mr. X says swiftly, “There’s nothing to worry about with Matt. I’ve known him since he was an intern, and he’s proven to be discreet. He’s done this before, and he’s never let me down.”

  Mr. X turns away to take his lab coat out of the locker, and I turn away as well as I feel myself turning pale.

  He’s proven to be discreet, Mr. X says.

  He’s done this before, Mr. X says.

  Funny how a blowjob in a shower cubicle has made me feel empowered, and yet a few careless words from Mr. X have reduced me into a slut in my own eyes.

  In not so many words, isn’t he saying that what I’ve done for him isn’t anything special – because other women have done the same thing for him, too?

  When the doors swing open, I hear Mr. X say approvingly, “Right on time, Matt. I owe you another one for this.”

  My fingers dig deeper into my palms as Mr. X makes yet another reference to the past.

  “Anytime, Dr. Blackmore.” Matt’s tone is polite.

  Dr. X touches the small of my back, and I manage not to flinch. “Are you okay, Anisia?”

  I manage a smile as I turn to face him. “Yup.” Looking away, I mumble, “I should go now, before people see me…” My voice trails off as I feel the oncoming threat of tears.

  Shit.

  Glancing at Matt, I ask brightly, “Shall we go?”

  “Sure.”

  I feel Mr. X’s gaze on me as Matt and I leave the locker room, but I don’t dare let myself look back.

  When we step out of the gym, I mumble to Matt, “I can take it from here.”

  Matt nods, but he still follows me to the elevator.

  When we step inside, he says quietly, “You don’t seem fit to handle this type of thing.”

  I dig my fingers deeper into my palms, thinking he’s absolutely right. I thought I could. Ginger thought I could. But now I know it’s not true.

  “You’re not like his usual.”

  “I know,” I acknowledge numbly. When we reach the basement, I thank him politely for his escort and step out without looking back.

  There’s a reason why I only wanted Mr. X as my imaginary boyfriend, and this time I won’t let myself forget it.

  He’s perfect in my imagination but a bastard outside it.

  Chapter 6

  “I’m so sorry.” The words come out of nowhere, but it no longer surprises me. Ginger has been apologizing to me nonstop ever since she came over my place for movie night and found out what happened between Mr. X and me.

  “It’s really okay, Gin. All water under the bridge now.” I feed myself a handful of popcorn, telling myself that the more times I say it, the sooner the words would come true.

  From the other end of the couch, I feel Ginger’s gaze still on me, and without taking my eyes off the TV I say, “Stop worrying about me.”

  “It’s just…” Ginger lets out a sigh of frustration. “I didn’t think he could be such a dick.”

  “Me neither,” I say honestly.

  Ginger grabs the remote control from the coffee table and switches the TV off.

  “Hey!”

  She wags a finger at me, saying, “We both know you weren’t really watching, and you’re clearly not okay, so let’s stop with the pretenses.”

  I sulkily pull my legs up on the couch, mumbling, “I simply don’t see any point talking about him.”

  “There is a point, and you know it.” My friend waits until I look at her before asking, “What if he contacts you? What will you tell him?”

  “I don’t think he will. It’s been a week since we last saw each other, and I haven’t heard from him once.” Swallowing hard, I force myself to say the truth out loud. “I don’t think it matters to him if I’m there or not.”

  “Oh, babe.” Ginger gives me a quick hug. “I’m so sorry about this.”

  It’s close to midnight when my friend leaves, but even knowing I have to wake up early tomorrow I still feel restless.

  I try listening to music, watching another movie, but in the end it’s inevitable, and I succumb to the urge to take out my journal.

  It’s been ages since I last wrote here, I realize.

  Flipping my journal open, I feel a mixture of sickness and disappointment as I browse the pages and see how majority of them has to do with Mr. X.

  On the next empty page, I take my pen and start scribbling.

  * * *

  0029H

  It’s been a week and you still haven’t emailed, texted, much less called.

  You’re a good person, Mr. X. I know a lot of people misunderstand you. They think you’re too blunt, too cold, too ruthless. But I also know everything you say or do is just to make the hospital better. I’ve seen how much you care for the patients – more so than the rest of the hospital board. That’s why I’d never have a problem with how dedicated you are to your work. I admire you for that. I’d be proud and happy if I could be like you. And I wish – I really wish I could have more days with you, but I can’t.

  Not when I know I’m just one of the many for you, and that you can replace me in an instant if you wanted to.

  Maybe one day I could be friends with you, Mr. X.

  But right now it just hurts too much, knowing how it really is between us.

  Work the next day is hectic as usual, but I welcome it even though my heart remains heavy in my chest. I’ve never been the type to let personal stuff get in the way of my job, and I definitely won’t start now.

  Around lunch break, a new mail pops in my inbox, and my heart skips a beat when I see it’s from Mr. X. I allow myself a moment to stare at his name.

  And then I click Delete and empty my mail’s trash folder.

  No more, Mr. X.

  Ten minutes later, my phone suddenly rings, and I frown when I see an unregistered number flash on the screen. Could it be him? But what if it’s not?

  Stop thinking you’re all that, I tell myself. Just because he sent you an email doesn’t mean he’s desperate to contact you.

  And so I answer the call, saying, “Hello?”

  “You haven’t been stalking me lately,” Mr. X says silkily.

  Oh!

  My fingers tighten around the phone as I struggle to make sense of the chaotic mix of emotions inside of me. A part of me rejoices at the fact that he’s bothered to call me – but another part just wants to get this over with.

  Clearing my throat, I say stiltedly, “Before you think this is some kind of tactic to get you to pay more attention to me – it’s not. I just realized I’m not cut out for this sort of thing so…it was nice knowing you. Thanks.” And then I terminate the call.

  One, two, three seconds pass before the full import of what I’ve done hits me.

  Oh my God.

  Did I just hang up on Mr. X, a man who definitely has the power to have me fired?

  For the rest of the day, I’m on pins and needles, waiting for Mr. X to do an Empire-Strikes-Back kind of thing. But my shift comes to a close, and I don’t see or hear a peep of him.

  Maybe…he really doesn’t care anymore?

  Telling myself this relieves rather than disappoints me, I head out and on my way to the bus stop I bump into Matt, who’s taking a cigarette break at the parking lot across E.R.

  “Hey.” He swiftly gets rid of his cigarette and tosses its butt to the dumpster.

  I flash him an awkward smile, mumbling, “Hey.”

  “Are you waiting for Dr.---”

  Realizing he still thinks I’m seeing Mr. X, I hurriedly interject, “W-we’re done already.”

  He blinks at my words, visibly taken aback. “Seriously?”

  “Yes, I---” The buzzing of my mobile phone interrupts me. “Sorry, excuse me.” When I see who’s calling, my anxiety spikes up. Why is he calling me again?

  Glancing at Matt, I say uncertainly, “I n
eed to take this.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Turning away from him, I answer Mr. X’s call. “Hello?”

  “Where are you?” Mr. X’s voice is cool.

  “Outside the ER – why?”

  “I’ll have my driver fetch you---”

  “What?”

  “He’ll take you to my place. We’ll talk there once I’m done with my meeting---”

  I can’t help shaking my head, mumbling, “Why?”

  “Because it’s not over between us. There are things we still have to talk about---”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” I mutter painfully. “I’ve made up my mind so---”

  “If you hang up on me another time,” Mr. X snarls, “so help me, I’m going to put you over my knee the moment I see you.”

  The words make me choke in surprise, but more than that I’m embarrassed at how it makes my breasts swell behind the cups of my bra. Dear God. Why am I so horribly weak when it comes to this man? How can I be turned on by the idea of having him spank my bottom like a wayward child?

  Inhaling deeply, I ask in a shaky voice, “What do you really want?”

  “You.”

  I choke out a laugh. “Now who’s a liar?”

  “I’m not lying.” Mr. X’s voice is hard. “I do want you.”

  “I don’t like the way you want me,” I mumble painfully. “It makes me feel like a slut, and you know – you know why.”

  Mr. X expels his breath harshly.

  “D-don’t you dare deny it---” My voice starts to wobble dangerously, and I have to stop talking. I stare blindly at my surroundings, desperately willing myself not to cry. Matt’s still behind me, and it will be humiliating if he sees me break down.

  “I’m not going to deny it.” Mr. X delivers the unexpected admission in a toneless voice. “But in my defense, I didn’t mean to. I never used to have to care about such things. The women I dated would have never given a damn.”

  But I’m different, I want to cry out, and you know it.

  It’s just impossible for someone as experienced as Mr. X not to know.

  And so I’m sure of it.

  He knew – but he just didn’t care to treat me differently.

  The truth hits me like a punch in the guts, and I choke out, “Please don’t contact me again.” And for the second time that day, I hang up on him, but this time I don’t regret it one bit.

  Behind me, Matt says slowly, “That was harsh.”

  Oh! I’ve forgotten about him completely, and I whirl around, red-faced. “Y-you heard everything?”

  “It’s hard not to,” Matt says apologetically, “since I was right here the entire time.”

  “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

  “It doesn’t make a difference to me either way,” the male resident answers bluntly, “but I gotta say – it’s kinda nice to see a woman turn down the great---”

  “Don’t say his name please!”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Why not?”

  “I’m a little bit paranoid,” I confess awkwardly. “I don’t want other people to ever have a reason to link my name to his – especially now.” I pause then add uncertainly, “You won’t tell anyone about us, will you?”

  A calculating look gleams in Matt’s dark eyes. “That depends.”

  “On what?” I can’t help feeling suspicious, wondering if he’s about to blackmail me.

  “If you go out on a date with me.”

  Before I can answer, a familiar voice snarls from behind us, “Is he the reason why you’ve ended things between us?”

  Even before turning around, I already know who it is and my head reels.

  Mr. X?

  He’s dressed in another dark suit, his lab coat nowhere to be seen, and it’s been so long since I last saw him that I’ve forgotten how gorgeous he is. He’s also breathing hard, making me wonder if he’s run all the way. But why would he do that? And he isn’t supposed to be in a meeting?

  His blue-gray eyes swing sharply towards Matt, and Mr. X says in a steely voice, “Never make a move on my woman again.”

  The violent threat has me gasping. It’s not like him at all, and dear heavens, has Mr. X forgotten that we’re at a public place?

  To the younger man’s credit, Matt doesn’t back down even though Mr. X looks an inch away from throwing a punch at him. “It’s not my style to go after another man’s woman, Dr. Blackmore. So the question is---” He glances at me. “Are you still his woman?”

  My lips part, but no words come out. I still have some pride left, and I just can’t make myself say I want to be his woman, knowing that I’m nothing special to him.

  Mr. X’s face hardens. “So he is the reason.”

  Realizing he’s completely misunderstood, I immediately protest, “It’s not like that---”

  “Don’t bother lying,” he snaps. “It’s too damn obvious now. You met Matt, found out he likes you, and you realized you’re better off with someone younger and more fun---”

  An appalled cry spills past my lips at how he’s twisted everything. “It’s not like that at all---”

  “And to think,” Mr. X snarls, “you’ve been stalking me all this time---”

  A look of astonishment falls over Matt’s face.

  Mr. X smiles humorlessly. “Didn’t she tell you? She’s that kind of girl---”

  The viciousness of his words hurts, and I unthinkingly raise my hand to his face.

  Mr. X catches my wrist mid-swing and forces it down.

  “Why are you acting like this?” I demand tremulously. “It’s n-not like you---”

  “Don’t fucking make it sound like you know me,” he grates out, “just because you’ve been stalking me, fantasizing about me---”

  His words make me whiten. What does he mean I’m fantasizing about him?

  Mr. X’s lips twist. “I’ve read your journal.”

  I freeze. He’s…read…my journal?

  “So yes, I know everything. I know what you’ve been fantasizing about me, how much you’ve been thinking of me---”

  This time, I manage to wrench my wrist out of his grasp.

  SLAP!

  “Asshole.” It’s the only word I can think of.

  His lips tighten, but he only gazes at me, his blue-gray eyes cold.

  “All this time,” I whisper numbly, “you knew.” My throat burns with unshed tears, and I have to stop speaking. Cold sweat envelops my body, and I wrap my arms around myself as I feel my insides turn into ice.

  “You were just playing with me this entire time.”

  Mr. X jerks.

  “You t-thought you had me wrapped me around your finger, and when you realize it’s not like that, y-your ego was hurt and so now---” A wave of pain strikes me, and I suddenly feel absolutely defeated.

  Fumbling for my pocket, I take out my planner and slam it against his chest. “Take it. It’s your trophy for making a fool out of me.”

  Chapter 7

  I skip the bus and walk home, needing to keep myself moving because if I don’t, I just know I’m going to break down.

  Will I ever get over this?

  Will I get over him?

  I want to believe I will, but a part of me is terrified that I’ll never forget Mr. X, and that pieces of my heart will remain completely lost and broken.

  When I finally make it to my apartment, I absently notice an expensive-looking sedan parked by the curb. It looks entirely out of place in my middle-class neighborhood, but I’m too tired to think more about it.

  Turning away, I start keying my code to unlock the entrance door when I hear Mr. X’s voice.

  “Anisia.”

  I stiffen, but when I feel him come up to me, I choke out without looking back, “What more do you want from me?”

  “Could we talk?”

  I shake my head.

  “Please.” His voice is low, rough, and humbled, and it’s that unexpected note of humility that gets to me.

  This man really is my personal Waterloo, I realize dully, maybe always will be.

  “Fine.” Still without meeting his eyes, I open the door, leaving it to him to follow me up to the third floor. I feel Mr. X’s gaze on me the entire time, and it’s unnerving, but I do my best to keep my anxiety to myself.