The Ghost Surgeon: My Ruthless Ex's Obsession

r temples. She balanced four pitchers of cheap, watery domestic beer on a tray with her left hand, weaving through the

e. Twice. A relentless buzz that demande

r who tried to grab her wrist. She wiped her hands on her apron, the fabric sti

a spiderweb fracture running diagonally across t

nuckle. It was resting possessively on a thigh clad in silk. On the finger

popped up a

side so we could find

iffany was her cousin. The man was Jennings Bowen. Her ex-fiancé. The man whose family had paid for her medical school scholarship only to publicl

he edge of the phone so hard the plastic casing creake

ople who had a safety net to catch them wh

d back to

wenty-dollar bill from her tip jar onto the st

iquid burned a path down her esophagus, searing away the cold numbness in her chest. She poured anot

ain and a scent that didn't belong here. It w

The man in the middle was tall. Impossibly tall. He wore a suit that fit him like a second

d sharp, scanned the grease-stained tables and the sawdust on the floor. He pinched

him. Jennings Bowen. In the dim light, with his dark hair and arrogant

l, alcohol-fueled ra

the room tilting on an axis. She collided with a solid, warm back. The tequila glass in

urned aro

warmth, like looking into a frozen lake. He looked

s stepped forward, h

sed a hand, stopping hi

warped his features, overlaying the memory of

out and patted his lapel, her hand leaving a damp print. "Didn'

s eyes. He looked c

e a deep baritone that vibrated in the floorboar

ap. It was the tone. The absolute

shove, barely moving him an inch,

a pig,"

as firm, clinical. He wasn't hurting her; he was containing her

ared enough for her to see the genuine shock in his expr

ently. Her stomach, rebelling against the tequila and

tched

ere carrying a contagion. It was instinct. His instinct to avoid filth. His

uiet. A few pe

m!" someon

e wrinkling. "Clear the way," he ordered the bodyguards

The nausea hit her like a tidal wave. Ther

vomited all over his hand

leather seemed to echo in th

is expression wasn't just angry. It was the look

re the darkness took her was the vein throbbing in hi

e of the bodyguards. "Public intoxic