Page 1 of Fighting for You
Prologue
Margot
11 Months Ago
Staring at a live human heart will never get old.
The image of it is burned into my brain after spending the last five hours watching over the doctor’s shoulder as he gently maneuvered the organ this way and that to fix the ventricular septal defect. The adrenaline is still flowing an hour after the patient was moved to the CICU, and the next shift nurse relieved me so I can go home and get some rest.
I head to the nurses’ station to check over the rest of my patients’ charts before I leave for the day, making sure nothing has been missed since I was tied up in the operating room.
“Hi, Margot,” Sam says with a smile. “You got in on the Mathers’ VSD repair?”
“Yes,” I say gleefully. “But I’m exhausted now. Going to go home and immediately crash before I have to be back here early tomorrow.”
“Ah, yes. Those can be brutal. Before you go, though, Blackstone would like you to stop by his office to review post-op notes.”
“Thanks, see you tomorrow?”
“You bet!”
I turn to the elevators and press the up button.
I gently knock on Dr. Julian Blackstone’s office and hear a muffled “come in” from the other side. Stepping inside, I find him sitting behind his desk, going through charts, making notes.
“Margot. Close the door, and have a seat,” he says with a welcoming smile. Though only in his late-thirties, Dr. Blackstone is a renowned heart surgeon whose work has put our relatively small hospital on the map. Patients come from all over the country to consult with him and hopefully, end up in his care. He’s earned numerous prestigious awards and recognition for his work, every single one of them well-deserved.
As in-demand and vital as he is, Dr. Blackstone is just as kind. He mentors all of the personnel on his team, from the resident surgeons at his side to the nurses he handpicks to be in his OR. He is constantly nurturing their strengths and making sure everyone is working at their best. I’ve been lucky enough to be placed on his service at his request for the last four months, which is unheard of for someone who graduated from nursing school eighteen months ago.
Julian stands from his chair and steps around his desk, stopping just in front of where I sit. With his lab coat hanging on the back of his chair, he is left in a pale blue button down andblack slacks. He leans back on his desk and loosely crosses his arms over his chest, exuding his usual commanding confidence.
“That was remarkable today, wasn’t it?” he asks.
“It really was,” I say dreamily. “I still can’t believe this is my job. Thank you again for this opportunity. I know there are other nurses with much more experience you could have in there with you. I’m so grateful you took a chance on me. I hope I’m living up to your expectations.”
“There’s no need to thank me. You’ve earned this spot. You’re…” He looks down at me, his eyes running over my face and then lower, making me heat with slight discomfort at his perusal. “Sensational.” Clearing his throat before continuing, “Intuitive. You have a good sense for what I need in the OR.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly, shifting in my seat. “Was there something you needed to see me for?”
“I just wanted to debrief after today’s marathon surgery. Check in on how you feel about the program. Make sure you’re… satisfied.” Something in his tone makes me uneasy.
Our relationship has never been anything but professional, and I would never cross that line. I’ve heard about Julian, just whispers here and there that he has his favorites. Some joke he only chooses attractive young women for his department. I never gave it much thought, until now.
This conversation is leaning toward uncomfortable, so I look for a way out.
“Yes, I’m very happy here and so thankful for the opportunity. I hope I can continue to impress you,” I say. “But I really must get going if there isn’t anything else.” I stand, but he doesn’t move to give me space to step away, and I find myself hedged in between the chair and his body.
“You are definitely impressive,” he murmurs, his hand rising and finding the ends of my curls. He twirls the strands between his fingers, our eyes tracking the movement. His face is one ofawe, hunger. I’m frozen in place, unsure how to extricate myself without touching him.
“Dr. Blackstone,” I say, instilling as much confidence as I can muster. “Wh-what’s happening right now?”
“Julian, please.” His eyes shift to my face.
“Julian,” I say, my voice betraying my rising panic.
“Oh, I like the sound of my name falling from your mouth,” he whispers, leaning in even closer. My fight or flight finally kicks in, and I use my shoulder to gently check him back and step away from him. I move toward the door putting some distance between us.
“I’m sorry, but I think you must have gotten the wrong idea,” I say quickly as I turn around when I reach the door. “I’m here strictly in a professional manner.”
