Page 2 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire

Odette

Three Months Ago

Holy guacamole.

Exam room number five held the most gorgeous male specimen I had ever seen.

My heart skipped a beat as I stared at the man sitting on the gurney. My eyes roamed over him, and I convinced myself it was strictly a clinical appraisal. Besides, attractive men had come and gone over the years, and I’d cared for them without any hiccups. Yet, it didn’t explain the verynonclinical butterflies that were taking flight in my stomach.

Dark hair. Sharp jaw. Deep aquamarine eyes that reminded me of catching rays on the beach and feeling the salt in the air and across my skin. It sucked the oxygen out of my lungs and drained the tank of my brain’s generator without so much as a blink.

“Are you coming in or are you planning to stand at the door to examine me?” he snapped, annoyance clear in his voice.

And like dust in the wind, the attraction was gone.

I shook my head, clearing it from my initial fascination. No amount of good looks could ever excuse an asshole.

With the patient chart firmly in my hand, I walked into the room with the confidence my father had instilled in me—chin tipped up, spine straight, and with a professional focus that rivaled my father’s. He owned this private little hospital on the French Riviera, and with the usual barrage of patients that came through these doors, his focus was unrivaled.

“Mr.—” I glanced at the chart in my hand and read the name. “Mr. Ashford. What brings you in today?”

There was only one downfall to the location of Father’s hospital. It brought in all kinds of snobs and pricks. The trust-fund kids of the rich and famous were the worst. Although there was nothing young about this guy. He wasn’t exactly old, but at the not so tender age of—I read his date of birth—thirty-four, there was nothing young about him.

“Obviously, I need to see a doctor.”Well, duh, asshole.I pressed my lips together to ensure those words didn’t come out. Yes, I was cranky. Father had me tending to his patients late into the night, and then today, he’d given me the morning shift.

“I’m just going to take your blood pressure and check your heart rate.” Fuck it, he could whine to my father about whatever his problem was. I’d gather his vitals and Dad could take it from there.

Those dark aquamarine eyes found mine and he cocked his eyebrow. “Aren’t you a little young to be playing doctor?”

Annoyance flared within me. If there was even a flicker of attraction left, he’d just dumped gallons of ice water over it and extinguished it forever with his arrogant tone.

“Aren’t you a little old to be so cranky?” I spat back, knowing full well my father would send me packing if he heard me speak to a patient like this.

But I couldn’t help it. Yes, I was twenty-two and much younger than this old—and way too gorgeous—prick, but there was no need to discount my qualifications. And I never said I was a doctor. Nurses usually took patient vitals, if he wanted to get specific. I was still in my first year of medical school and only helping Dad over my spring break.

“Touché”—his eyes roamed over my nurse’s coat, searching for a name badge he wouldn’t find—“Nurse Betty.”

I shook my head. It was better not to get into it with this guy, I knew the type. “I’m not a nurse. I’m a med student. Please take off your shirt.”

He didn’t move and I raised my eyebrow. I almost expected a smart-ass comeback. When he didn’t say another word, disappointment washed over me. I didn’t have to like the guy to enjoy good banter, but obviously he couldn’t keep up.

Or maybe he’s in pain.Well, there was that.

I stood, watching his long fingers unbutton his expensive shirt, one by one, before reaching for the diamond cuff link on his right wrist. The bronze skin of his chest indicated he spent a lot of time out in the sun. And what a chest it was.

The butterflies in my stomach took flight again—despite my objections—and the small peek at his abs had my heart skipping a beat. I averted my eyes before he could call me out on my lack of professionalism—again. This man was all strength and power, oozing sex appeal.

Like a magnet, my eyes returned to him. I was simply unable to keep my gaze from him.

Maybe I needed a checkup too? Either that, or I needed to get laid. Stat!

“Are you going to watch me strip?” His voice startled me out of my gawking and my cheeks heated. I was burning up. This goddamn prick. I didn’t know whose trust-fund baby he was but there was no doubt that he was somebody’s. Nobody who worked their ass off from the ground up was this arrogant and blunt—or tanned.

I turned around and busied myself with reading through the notes in the chart. Last name Ashford. First name Byron.Byron Ashford.I shook my head again. Definitely a rich prick’s name.

He was here because of asunburn. I frowned. Was this guy for real?Scratching strength from his attributes.

The sound of soft material moving against flesh seemed to echo through the small room. I kept double-checking what the nurse recorded until the sound of rustling ceased behind me. I put his chart down and pulled my stethoscope from my pocket. Then I reached for the blood pressure monitor, ripping open the cuff as I turned around.