Everything has a price. Including her. Smith Stark is who I am. You are familiar with my name. This is my city. I maintain tight control over every relationship I have. I always have the upper hand, both in business and pleasure. So when a sweet little thing defies me, it irritates me. It makes me want to control her, bend her to my will, and make her beg for my c*ck. I want to transform the angry fire in her green eyes into sweet submission. I made her a proposal. She spends thirty days with me, and I resolve her financial issues. No mess, no drama, and no questions. Just my filthy money for her complete innocence. But she's more than I bargained for. I have a new addiction, and her name is Tracy My dirty little flower. Contracts aside, I am never going to let her go again.
Chapter 1
Smith
"Hey! "There is a line here!" exclaims a man somewhere behind me.
He sounds angry, but I do not give a fuck. The Chief of Medicine himself stated that we would always have priority here, so that guy can go to another hospital if he wishes.
However, I guarantee that no place in the world treats everyone equally. That is only a hippie pipe dream.
Hey, I do not make the rules. I just happen to be good at this game called life, and I will admit there were some lucky rolls of the dice.
So there are some advantages to being a Stark. You can not blame a man for taking advantage of all the opportunities he is been given, especially at this time.
A young nurse behind the laminate counter looks at me with green eyes, as if she is about to chew me out. "Sir, I will need you to go back to the end of the-"
"Listen," I tell her calmly, cutting her off. "Maybe you are new and do not know how things work around here, so I will let that attitude go. You are going to do exactly what I say or you will lose your job. Understand?"
She appears perplexed, her pretty green eyes as big as saucers. Without a doubt, her training has not prepared her for this. To her credit, she remains silent and gives me a small nod.
The way she clenches her jaw suggests defiance. She is outraged, but she does not want to be fired. She is a smart girl.
Under normal circumstances, I would crush every hint of impudence in her. She looks exactly like the type of girl I would like to do that to. But now is not the time.
"Tracy," I say, looking at the nametag on her chest. "Get someone in charge and tell them Jeff Stark requires immediate attention. Please repeat the name for me so that I am sure you understand."
"Jeff Stark," she says with furrowed brows and angry eyes. She is not happy about being treated like an idiot, but I need to know she will deliver the right message. My father requires immediate medical attention; who cares if her feelings are hurt?
"You are a good girl. "Now leave," I say.
I would love to see her walk away. The baby-blue scrubs she is wearing do not cling to her body, but I can see some hint of the tantalizing curves underneath. I am sure a closer look would give me a better idea.
I have more important things to do, however. I turn around to see the main entrance's automatic glass doors, which allow Pop to enter the lobby of St. Peter's Hospital. Someone at the office helped him find a wheelchair.
Pop is clutching his chest. He appears to be in pain. His breathing is labored, and he is completely covered in cold sweat.
Seeing him in that condition makes me want to yell at someone to fix him right away, or at least give him something to relieve the pain. The man appears weak; it just looks wrong.
"Mr. Stark?" A voice from behind the counter addresses me. This time, the voice was that of a man, alert and ready to take action. When I turn around, he is already making big strides around the counter to approach me.
Good. This is the level of urgency I would expect from one of our corporate charity program's biggest beneficiaries.
"My dad needs assistance." I put one hand on the man in scrubs' back and guided him to the wheelchair. I do not know who he is, but he knows who we are, which is all that matters.
He rushes toward Pop, followed by a couple of younger men in scrubs.
I observe from the sidelines as the men do what they do best. I observe from the sidelines as the men do what they do best.
I take deep breaths and follow the men down the hallway. My senses are overwhelmed by depressing fluorescent lighting and the odor of disinfectants. My muscles relax slightly, knowing Pop is in good hands, even though my heart continues to beat faster than usual.
I clench my fists. My father would not be in this situation if it had not been for them.
Fucking cops.
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