Page 2 of Dr. Lillian Harrington
The suggestion sent a shiver of excitement through her. Lillian hadn’t imagined it would move this fast, but maybe that was what she needed—a quick, decisive night away from everything.
Lillian: How do I know you’re not a serial killer?
R: Because I’m not sending this message from a van parked outside your window.
Lillian laughed out loud, enjoying the bold, playful back-and-forth. The idea of stepping into something so far removed from her everyday life was thrilling.
Lillian: Fair point. Okay, I’m in. Where and when?
R: Hotel Royale. 10 p.m. I'll be at the bar. Wear something that makes you feel dangerous.
Lillian’s heart skipped a beat. She glanced at the clock: 8:30 p.m. She had time, but the nerves were starting to build, though they were mixed with a spark of anticipation.
Lillian: You don’t waste time, do you?
R: Life’s too short to waste time.
Lillian stared at her phone for a moment, feeling her pulse quicken. It was reckless, spontaneous, and exactly what she needed.
Lillian stood in front of her closet, the contents feeling inadequate for what she was about to do. Tonight wasn’t about practicality. She needed something different, something that didn’t scream "intern" or "Harrington." She wanted to feel powerful, free, and, above all, dangerous—as R had requested.
She pulled out a sleek black dress that she rarely wore. It hugged her in all the right places, with a low neckline that dipped just enough to hint at something more. The hemline hit mid-thigh, and paired with the black stiletto heels she dug out from the back of her closet, the outfit transformed her from surgeon-in-training to someone entirely new. She studied herself in the mirror, turning to inspect her reflection. The dress clung to her curves, the deep black fabric contrasting with her pale skin. For a moment, she hesitated, her mind flickering back to her life at the hospital. Would anyone recognize her? Would they see through this bold façade?
But tonight wasn’t about them. It wasn’t about her mother, her sisters, or even her own career. Tonight, she was just Lillian, and that was enough.
With a final sweep of her fingers through her wavy golden hair, she applied a deep red lipstick and a touch of eyeliner, giving her green eyes a smoky edge. She grabbed a small clutch, slipped her phone inside, and headed out into the night.
The Hotel Royale was one of those places that exuded luxury and discretion in equal measure. The lobby was dimly lit, with soft jazz playing faintly in the background. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a golden glow over the marble floors. The décor was understated but elegant—just the kind of place where you could blend in, where secrets could be kept.
Lillian’s heart pounded in her chest as she made her way through the lobby, her heels clicking softly against the polished floors. She had been in plenty of high-pressure situations before—scrubbing into life-saving surgeries, handling delicate instruments, making split-second decisions—but this was different. This was personal. Intimate.
She could feel the eyes of the hotel staff as she passed, their polite, neutral expressions hiding whatever thoughts they had about this lone woman in a seductive black dress walking through their pristine establishment. But Lillian didn’t care. She didn’t have time to care. She was focused on what was ahead: the bar, R, and whatever would come next.
The bar was tucked away at the back of the hotel, separated from the lobby by a set of heavy velvet curtains. The lighting inside was even lower, casting the room in a seductive shadow. Soft leather chairs were scattered around small tables, and the bar itself gleamed in the dim light, polished to a high shine. The atmosphere was intimate, quiet, the kind of place where you could slip away from the world and disappear into the night.
Lillian paused at the entrance, scanning the room, her heart racing. She was nervous, yes, but more than that, she was excited. This was a new world, one where she wasn’t bound by the weight of her name or the pressures of her career.
And then she saw her.
R was sitting at the bar, a half-full glass of what looked like whiskey in front of her. The dim light caught the sharp angles of her face, her dark hair swept back in a sleek, elegant style. She wore a tailored black blazer over a silk blouse, the neckline just low enough to reveal a hint of skin. Her lips were painted a deep red, matching the fire in her gaze as she looked up and saw Lillian.
The moment their eyes met, a charge passed between them—intense, electric. Lillian felt her breath catch in her throat, her body responding in ways she hadn’t expected. She straightened her back, pulling herself together as she approached the bar, each step measured, confident. R’s mesmerising eyes never left her.
As Lillian reached the bar, she slid onto the stool next to R, the scent of whiskey and warm leather surrounding them.
"You look…dangerous," R said, her voice low and smooth, like honey dripped over ice. Her eyes roamed Lillian’s body, lingering on the curve of her hips, the length of her legs. It wasn’t subtle, and Lillian found herself relishing in the attention.
"Just following instructions," Lillian replied, her lips curving into a smile. She shifted slightly on the stool, letting her thigh brush lightly against R’s. The touch was deliberate, teasing.
R raised an eyebrow, her gaze darkening. "And what do you want now that you're here?"
R’s eyes were so dark brown in the dim light, they looked almost black.
Lillian leaned in just a fraction, close enough to feel the heat from R’s body, but not close enough to touch. "I thought I made that clear."
A slow smile spread across R’s lips. "You did. But I like hearing it."
Lillian felt a flush rise to her cheeks, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she held R’s gaze, letting the tension build between them. Her voice dropped as she whispered, "I want to forget everything for one night."
