Curing Doctor Vincent (The Good Doctor Trilogy Book 1) (6 page)

The promise of things to come and his hot
breath against my skin made me shiver. I pulled down my dress and both men
helped me reequip my bra, but I wondered if the night’s festivities were over,
trying not to let the small amount of disappointment I felt show. I had assumed
fucking them was part of the plan and if Marco’s skills at oral translated to
other things, I was in for a treat.

Dr. Vincent sat watching me with a grin
of satisfaction. “I see you’ve been cured of second thoughts.” It was a
statement, not a question.

Chapter Five

Miriam

Had I
really allowed that to happen? In a restaurant, no less? Even though I was
exhausted, slumber evaded me. By the time I managed to drift off, a smell
permeated the air—bacon. Who could possibly be cooking at this hour? I
pulled back the covers, reached for my phone on the nightstand. Nine AM? It
felt as though my head had just hit the pillow, but jetlag be damned, the
rumbling in my stomach was winning the fight. When my feet hit the floor, a
yawn warred with my hunger on my unsteady walk to the
en suite
bathroom.

During
my quick shower, I heard the door to the bedroom open, then close.

My
curiosity could not be quenched. With the towel wrapped around my head like a
turban and a soft, white, spa-quality robe obscuring my nudity, I cracked the
door open for a peek.

On the
bed lay a cream-colored,
crinkled chiffon dress, with intricate
embroidery embellishing the bodice—a short and whimsical style. I walked
to the bed and opened the lid to the box sitting beside the dress. It contained
sandals composed of bands of brown leather and beads. The small teal blue
velvet pouch sitting on top of the shoes held a long string of pearls and a
note.

Dearest Elaine,

You are in for quite a
treat today. I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of selecting your
attire again. You’ll find I’ve provided everything you’ll need for our little
adventure. It’s important to me that you are comfortable in the Paris heat.

When you are ready,
please join in me in the kitchen. I have prepared breakfast for us.

Love,

X

P.S. You’ll notice this
ensemble is lacking undergarments; that is by design.

Were those butterflies in my stomach? What was it about
this man that made my skin tingle anytime he said or wrote my name? I should have
been insulted that he’d tricked me into coming to Paris, even more so by his proposal,
his invasion of my privacy, and his pushy wardrobe choices, but there was
something about him—some kind of magnetism. Many might argue my gratitude
for saving my sister, Gretchen, or perhaps his wealth fueled my fascination,
but the desire ran far deeper.

The aroma of bacon grew stronger as I descended the
stairs, dressed in the striking ensemble the doctor had chosen. Even though his
insistence on dressing me remained a source of irritation, he did have
excellent fashion sense.

The mansion, or perhaps castle was more accurate, was more
stunning in daylight. The rich tones of the wool rugs, the raw silk drapes, the
ironwork on the windows and stone everywhere, spoke of wealth centuries old. Even
in my sandals each step echoed in the cavernous room.

In the kitchen stood a sight even more breathtaking than
the house—the doctor. He stood in front of the large industrial stove,
shirtless with a spatula in hand. His suits never betrayed his secret. As
beautifully sculpted as Marco and Sebastian had been in their photos, the
doctor was their rival.

He looked up from his task and stared. I averted my eyes,
feeling guilty that I had been ogling him.

“Good morning, beautiful. You are exquisite. Somehow you
manage to put to shame every one of my fantasies about you.”

I dodged the compliment and swallowed the excitement
bubbling through me. The idea the doctor fantasized about me pleased me more
than it should have, but I had to gather my thoughts. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

He smiled, “What’s dangerous? Cooking? I love to cook. Between
cooking and the gym, I almost forget how much I miss sex. That is until last
night, I had almost forgotten how wonderful it is to connect with someone.”

Or some ones. “I meant frying bacon without a shirt.”

He scoffed. “I don’t run from pain. I face it head on.”

The irony in his statement was not lost on me. The pain of
his childhood kept him a prisoner, yet he embraced physical pain. No one achieved
a body like his without excruciating effort.

My contemplative moment was interrupted.

“You know what is painful? Trying to find American bacon
in Paris. I had to call in some favors. Come over and sit here beside me. Let
me look at your loveliness.” He pulled out a stool at the breakfast nook and
patted it.

From the plate of crispy bacon he snapped the end off of a
piece.

His outreaching hand surprised me. He held the morsel by
the tips of his fingers just out of my reach. Was this allowed? I eyed his
expression. Nothing out of the ordinary. It was a simple offering.

I leaned my head close and with my tongue coaxed the salty
gift from his fingers, never touching him. As I closed my mouth Marco spoke, “You
two starting without me?” He pulled a white T-shirt with black lettering over
his smooth chest.

The doctor stood fixated on my mouth, while Marco walked
to the breakfast nook to sit beside me.

“Good morning, Elaine.” Marco placed a soft kiss on my
lips. “Bacon. You shouldn’t have, X.”

“I didn’t. Not for you at least. But since you’ll be
working up an appetite, it’s probably best that you’re well fed.”

Marco laughed. “Yes, feed the beast.”

I glanced at Marco and then to the doctor and back.

“I know you two are colleagues, but I don’t get it. I
could never imagine proposing this to anyone I work with
.”

The doctor placed more bacon on the plate. “Marco, and
even Sebastian for that matter, are true friends.” He then offered me another
piece of the meat with the same careful gesture.

I took it, resisting the urge to lick his finger
, and then laughed. “You
do take BFF to a whole new level. I can honestly say I don’t have anyone I
could have enlisted if I were in your shoes.”

It was the doctor’s
turn to chuckle. “It’s not like I just floated the question out there. Both of
them were relentless about trying to get me laid. I even dated someone, trying
to fool them and everyone else for that matter, but no woman wants to deal with
my hang-ups.”

Marco reached over
and grabbed the orange juice and poured some in a small glass. “If you hadn’t
picked a fucking psychopath to pretend with, you might have pulled it off. Man,
you’re a shitty shrink.”

The doctor shot him a
condemning stare, and pointed at him with the spatula. “That’s it. No bacon for
you.” He turned back to me. “So, after I came clean over beers one night, the
truth about my marriage came out. Marco immediately volunteered.”

I looked at Marco. “It was really that easy for you?”

Marco sat forward. “Yes. I get to fuck a beautiful woman
and help X at the same time; I didn’t even have to think about it.”
He let out a little
whine. “Ah, come on X, I take it back. You’re not a shitty shrink. Give me some
bacon.”

X chuckled. “I’m letting you fuck my woman, I think that’s
enough. Get your own.”

His woman? His statements of possession on some crazy
level gave me comfort, and on another scared me to death.
“What about
Sebastian?”

They both looked at
each other. Marco snickered. “You could say…he had a little encouragement.” He
jumped off the seat and made for
the pile of bacon and scolded the doctor, “You’re just jealous and getting old
and cranky. You’ll pay for that at your next workout.”

“Marco doubles as my personal trainer. I figured it best;
since I need his mind on my research, I’d better put his annoying habits to
good use.”

There was a friendly rapport between the two without a
doubt. “How did the two of you meet?”

The doctor smiled. “When the university called and asked
that I take an annoying know-it-all under my wing, I never imagined what I was
getting into. He was at the top of his class and already had two revolutionary
patents. The kid thought he ruled the world.”

“Kid? I was twenty-one. Besides, you’re only ten years
older than me, or should I start calling you pops?”

The doctor shot him a scolding glance. “Anyway, I think I’ve
said before I’m a pretty good judge of character and even though I wanted to
drown him in the Rhine at times, I knew he was loyal and one of the most brilliant
minds of our time. So I kept him. Now I don’t think I could get rid of him.”

“Was it the same with Sebastian?” I had to know.

“No. He’s an esteemed physician here in France as well as
a close family friend.”

Marco spoke up, “I met Sebastian at the gym. I’m also his
trainer.”

“Wow, researcher, genius, personal trainer, is there
anything you can’t do?”

With his plate filled with bacon and a whole grain muffin,
he stopped in front of me, bent down and placed a kiss on my cheek. “Sweetheart,
you have yet to
witness my finest talent.” He winked.

I looked at the doctor. “And he’s modest too.”

“Nobody’s perfect.” Marco placed a plate in front of me
along with a small glass of juice. He leaned in so close I could feel his
breath on my ear. “Eat up. You’re going to need your strength.” He then took a
seat beside me.

I swallowed hard, but the creaking of the front door
interrupted my moment.

“Hello, Xavier. Xavier, Xavier, where are you?” A female
voice with a thick French accent called.

The doctor folded his napkin and rose. “Excuse me. I have
to greet our guest.”

I glanced over at Marco. “Isn’t Sebastian coming for
breakfast?”

He chewed, swallowed, and then wiped his mouth with a
napkin. “That’s him, well his other half anyway.”

“That can’t be him. That’s a woman’s voice.”

Marco started to choke on a laugh. “No. That’s not him. Though
it would be really funny if it was. That’s Miriam.”

“Miriam?”

He gulped. “His wife.”

“Wife!” The word came out as a bellow. I quieted my voice
to a forced whisper. “Oh my God. He’s married. I can’t believe… I didn’t… Oh
God… I’ve wrecked someone’s marriage.”

“Settle down. Has anything turned out like you expected
since you got here?”

I paused. “No.”

“Then what makes you think this is any different?”

Just then a squeaking caught my attention—like a
bicycle tire on polished floors. In the doorway appeared the most elegant woman
I’d ever seen, nestled in a wheel chair. The hum of the electric motor drowned
out the shrill sound of the tire as she grew closer. We made eye contact and
the woman gasped.

“Oh Xavier, she’s beautiful.”

What was going on?

“I told Sebastian to trust you. Xavier, you have always
had exquisite taste. That’s one of the things that Lydia, God rest her soul,
loved most about you.” She pressed the steering stick and parked her chair just
in front of me. She didn’t look like she needed the chair, all of her limbs
were intact, but the bag tied to her chair hinted at hidden problems.

“Let me get a look at you.” She raised her hand slowly and
it trembled as it would in a woman three times her age. Her smooth, creamy
fingers wrapped around my hand as it continued to shake. “I can’t thank you
enough. You have my undying gratitude.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. What was I missing? “I’m sorry,
but I…”

Dr. Vincent interrupted, “Forgive me, Miriam. Elaine only
arrived two evenings ago. I didn’t realize you would want to meet her, so I
haven’t exactly explained everything.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Oh my…my dear…I can’t imagine what
you’re thinking.”

“I have to admit, I’m a bit confused.” I shifted in my
seat.

“Elaine. Even your name is lovely. I’m Sebastian’s wife.”

I tried to object, but she silenced me.

“This must seem so strange. Let me explain. Lydia and I were
best friends since before we started grammar school. Our families were very
close; I called Lydia sister. When she brought Xavier home to France, I couldn’t
have been more thrilled. When I met Sebastian at one of my shows, the puzzle
was complete. Then tragedy struck, first with me and then with Lydia. I’m sure Xavier
explained Lydia’s passing. Right Xavier?” She shot him a scolding look.

“Yes. She knows.”

“Well, several years before Lydia took ill, I developed an
extremely rare and progressive form of MS. Most forms of Multiple Sclerosis are
manageable with the new drugs on the market, but my condition is terminal.”

I covered my mouth
with my free hand to contain my gasp.
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, don’t feel bad. There are worse ways to go. And I’m
already cheating the fates. The textbooks said I should have died last year. Well,
excuse my language, but fuck them. I’m not done yet.”

I admired her spirit. I don’t know that I could be so
strong staring into the face of death. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t pity me, beautiful one. I’ve had it all—money,
fame, fortune.”