Page 13 of Intense (Beneath The Blaze #3)

STEPHANIE

Song- People Are Strange, The Doors.

I ’m in the middle of a conversation when I feel it. The staff room goes silent, and the atmosphere shifts to ice. I know exactly who has just graced us with his presence.

Dr. Finn Quinn.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

A shiver runs down my spine as I look up and lock my gaze into those icy grey eyes.

He just stands there like he owns the damn place.

Which, apparently, he does. He practically owns this hospital now, like it’s just another trophy he snatched out of someone else’s hands.

We are all under Finn’s rule.

And I hate it.

I hated it the first time I ever laid eyes on him, back in our final years of residency. He breezed in from Dublin with that delicious accent and flawless record and took everything I’d been working toward without even breaking a sweat.

My fists clench just thinking about it.

The years I’d sacrificed and the horrors I had endured to get to the top of my field—gone. Erased when this asshole decided America needed to be the next place he conquered.

And I was stupid enough to think I could take him down. And I tried, in the worst possible way, to do so, and he still remains victorious.

His eyes scan the room. We all remain still, like we’re the ones about to be interrogated, like none of us dare to even breathe too loud in his presence.

Fuck that.

I stand, plastering on a smile so false it feels like it’s going to crack my face.

“Dr. Quinn. What a pleasure to have you join us for lunch.”

His jaw twitches, the corner of his mouth curling into that contemptuous little smirk.

“Is it?”

He steps toward me, and my heart pounds, hating itself for noticing the way he moves. The way he carries that lethal confidence.

I wish he wasn’t so damn handsome. I wish he were balding and puffy and middle-aged so I could hate him without this dull, traitorous ache in my chest.

But no, he has the brains and the looks.

The perfectly black, swept-back hair. The chiseled jaw, the white teeth. Tattoos crawling up the side of his throat, even around his ears, like vines choking out anything soft that might have lived in him once.

Again, no one else could get away with that as a surgeon.

Yet here he is.

His rules. His kingdom.

“Yes. Would you like a coffee?”

A smirk dances on his lips, and then he squints, closing the distance between us until I can feel the heat coming off him.

“Why are you being nice to me, Dr. Miller?” he says in that low, mocking tone, pitched for me alone.

“I was planning on spitting in it,” I whisper.

“I’d poison yours.”

The threat slides between us like something intimate.

“I could get you fired for threatening me,” I hiss.

I look up into those glacial eyes, and I swear I stop fucking breathing. He knows exactly how to get under my skin. And he simply doesn’t care.

“If you’d like to lodge a complaint, email me and I’ll do my best to rectify the situation. Although, the wait time is up to three years. And hopefully, you would have found new employment by then.”

He rolls up his sleeve and checks his watch, as if I’m nothing more than an inconvenience wedged into his schedule.

“How’s your brother?” I ask, biting back a grin I know will infuriate him.

I bet he hates that he had to call me to save Conan’s life. The best heart surgeon in the state didn’t have the balls to operate on his own brother. But I saw his pain. The one time I’ve seen Finn vulnerable. And I didn’t like it. So I don’t tend to bring this moment up unless he pushes me to.

He scowls, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. Almost.

“He’s doing well.” He pauses, like it pains him to say it.

“Thanks to you.” He winces as the words leave his mouth.

I smile brightly, shoving the moment down his throat.

“Good. I’m glad.”

“Why are you here?” I ask.

We don’t like Finn joining us. He doesn’t just intimidate, he drains every room of any scrap of goodwill. He scares most of his staff senseless. Everyone except Hallie and me.

But Hallie isn’t on my side anymore.

She was always his little pet project. The only one he ever smiled at. The only one he ever bothered to protect. And now she’s married to his damn brother.

“Investigating, Dr. Miller.”

My palms go clammy. I force myself not to step back, but my body betrays me with a slight flinch.

“Investigating what? Is it to do with your arrest?” I ask, keeping my tone as flat as I can manage.

He taps his finger against the side of his nose, infuriatingly smug.

“None of your business, is what.”

I roll my eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me unnerved.

He leans in, and I hold my breath.

“I was never arrested, Stephanie. Just erase that encounter from your memory,” he whispers.

“Whatever you say, wizard,” I mock, rolling my eyes again, knowing that it irks him.

“I hope you’re looking forward to this weekend.” He winks, as if he doesn’t already know he’s going to win.

Smug bastard. He knows how much I really don’t want to go.

“You mean a free trip to Vegas and to be forced to spend even more time around you? Yeah. I can’t wait,” I say sarcastically.

I wish I didn’t care. I wish I could let him win and not sulk about it. But it’s every. Single. Time.

Promotions—always him.

Awards, still him.

Even after that, he has to keep the competition going, like it’s a game only he can win.

My eyes form slits as I watch him come up with his next little jab at me.

“Do you like losing? Is that why you’re still here?” he asks smugly.

“You think I’d make it that easy for you, Dr. Quinn, and just leave? Not happening. I get far too much enjoyment out of making you work for your position.”

“Hmm. I’m glad it keeps you entertained. To me, it’s more like having gum on my shoe I can’t get rid of. But, to each their own.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. I can just imagine smashing my palm across his cheek to wipe that smug grin off his annoyingly gorgeous face.

“At least I don’t get arrested at work,” I spit back.

His face remains stoic.

“Touché. Have a point for that comeback, Stephanie. Well done. You really hurt me there.” He places a tatted hand over his chest.

“Whatever,” I scoff, heading back to my seat next to our new junior, Poppy.

He scans the room one last time before turning on his heel, and the door slams behind him. I let out a breath the second he’s gone.

Every interaction with this man both excites me and exhausts me.

“Is it always so tense between you two?” Poppy asks.

She’s young and full of life.

She doesn’t understand.

“Yes. Always,” I mutter.