Dr. Mitchell: Billionaires’ Club Book 1 (Billionaires’ Club Series)

I woke up having no idea where the hell I was or how I got into this bed. I shot up in a panic as last night came to me slowly. Dr. Mitchell found me drooling and asleep in my car and brought me here to be closer to Dad. Right!

With the energy that had returned after I’d passed out on this glorious bed, I stood up and remembered Dr. Mitchell had honored my request by staying in the mini-apartment hotel room with me.

I didn’t recall us going into much detail, other than he remembered me from our all-night sex fest in his room in Frisco. That was it. I knew I should have been thrilled to know I made some kind of impression that lasted with the doctor, but I was too tired to care.

I ate alone while he took a phone call in the other room. I didn’t care about that, though. The food was delicious, and the meal had helped add to the great night of sleep I’d had for the first time in a month.

I slept in silk pajamas that were sent up at the request of the doctor. The long-sleeved shirt and pants were made from the softest material I’d ever felt—and that’s even after being dragged through the finest stores with Clay when he was shopping for himself.

So excited to feel refreshed and rejuvenated, I jumped in the shower to get my day going without a second thought. The more my mind woke up, a knot formed in my stomach. Fuck, I didn’t check my phone for missed calls or the time!

I rushed through soaping up, shampooing my hair, rinsing, and getting the hell out of this mindset that freed me from the fear and responsibility of Dad.

I ran with a towel in my hair and one wrapped around my body, fumbling around the room looking for my phone. I found it on the nightstand being charged—I most definitely did not put it there. I flipped through the phone, no missed calls, and one new text from Carmen.

Carmen: Your dad is doing great this morning. He already had his breakfast and did breathing and walked much better than yesterday. He said to take your time getting ready, and he’ll show off for you when you get here—his words, not mine.

I went to text back, but my blood was boiling. It was eight o’clock in the goddamn morning. That asshole left me here! Fuck him.

I clicked on Carmen’s name, my phone dialing out.

She’d better answer, I thought, chewing on my thumbnail.

“Hey, mija!” she answered in her peppy voice. “You sleep well?”

“Carmen,” I nearly growled into the phone. “Why didn’t anyone call me? And why did your text come through fifteen fucking minutes ago?”

“Hey, now! You’d better put a lid on that tone with me,” she snapped back at my aggression before calmly continuing. “You needed the rest. After Dr. Mitchell saw your dad this morning, even he said you needed food and rest. He found you asleep in your car. You try explaining to me how this is healthy for you or your dad?”

I ignored the lecture. “Dr. Mitchell was already there this morning?”

“Yes,” her voice was stern and solid against my furious tone, “and on his weekend off when he typically allows Dr. Chi to care for his patients in his absence.”

“I don’t—” The door latch clicked. He must be back. “I have to go. I’ll catch an Uber and see you in a few.”

“You need to relax, Ashley. Your dad is happy and relieved that you got some rest after Dr. Mitchell told him you’d been checked into a lovely hotel room. Don’t work up his blood pressure because of this unnecessary guilt you are carrying around. Everyone has both of your best interests at heart. Remember that.”

“Fine. And thank you,” I said before ending the call.

“Dr. Mitchell?” I asked, storming into the living room area of the hotel suite.

“Right here…” Our eyes met, and his went directly to the towel wrapped around my body.

I crossed my arms around the towel. “Is there a reason you took off to the hospital without me?” I questioned, trying not to be entranced by his pristine suit and gorgeous face.

“Yes, I went to work. You were sound asleep. I also assumed you would appreciate the full rest you were able to receive after all you’ve been through,” he stammered.

“That’s lovely for you to assume,” I said, not wavering. “I thought the entire reason for you putting me up here, you staying here with me—it was for your help to keep me close and get me back to Dad first thing this morning.”

His face grew stern. “I understand that you desire to be with your father at every waking moment; however, if you didn’t get as much rest as you did, trust me, you’d create more stress for the man when he learned you were admitted to one of our floor units.”

“Don’t pull that shit on me.” I tried to counter his possible truth. “I can’t leave him,” I said with sorrow and guilt. “My God, you don’t understand.”

“Being in this line of work, I do understand that the family member of a patient can become ill with concern and guilt about not being with their family. It is why we advise other family members to help with that burden. In your case, Carmen has filled the gap of your family. Your uncle and aunt, I believe it was, informed me that their work and distance from the hospital would not make it possible for them to help your father and you. Carmen has volunteered to be there for as long as you and your father need while he recovers in the hospital.”

I exhaled. “Fuck my uncle and aunt,” I said in anger.

“Ashley,” Dr. Mitchell said, walking toward me as I held out a hand out to stop him from closing the gap between us. “I’m no therapist, but I can easily see where concern over an issue that is no longer severe is not healthy.”

“Who are you to judge how I handle my issues?” I snapped.

“I’m not judging you. I’m genuinely concerned about your health, and now your stress concerning your father. As I said before, you are not helping him by slowly deteriorating in your health.”

“My God.” I covered my eyes. “I get it,” I said, choking back tears, unsure why I was fighting with this man. “You see things on the surface. You have no idea what I’ve been through.” I walked over and sat on the sofa, crying into my hands.

I was officially having a nervous breakdown in the company of a man I didn’t even know. Shit! I couldn’t pull it together, either. The burden of everything had been too much. My mother, the long-ass process of watching cancer eat her to nothing? I’d put my life on hold, unable to think about anything but helping and praying for a cure. That never happened. The funeral, the arrangements, the grief, Dad crying himself to sleep—all of it was slamming down on me right here and right now.

And now, my dad’s life was on the line. I never want to relive the dread I felt as I watched him have his heart attack. The ambulance couldn’t get to my gallery fast enough, and if another patron hadn’t had aspirin on a fluke, Dad probably would’ve died. I was paralyzed as he received CPR, thinking I would lose him that fast, and now I was terrified it could happen again at any time.

“If I lose him…” I sobbed. “My mom was taken from me, what makes me think that seeing my dad’s brush with death won’t be his last?”

“I’m so desperately sorry for your grief,” he said as he sat next to me and ran a warm hand over my back. “I will tell you with absolute certainty that your father is doing exceptionally well. I can safely say that if you’re afraid for his life at this point, there is no need.”

I looked at him in disbelief. “So, he magically doesn’t need the transplant?”

“I didn’t say that,” he answered, eyes severe as they stared into mine. “The machine assisting his heart is helping him quite well.”

I inhaled, my eyes not leaving his. “How long? How long until his enlarged and dying heart finally gives out, even with that machine?”

“I told you already,” he answered. “He can live well for at least two years. Worst case, of which I will be monitoring, one year.”

“Then I’m right back to where I was when my mom’s cancer came back.” I looked away from him, tears betraying me. “Fuck,” I choked out. “I can’t do this again.”

“Is there a chance—”

“No,” I stood and went to walk away. “He won’t even have the conversation about the transplant.” I sighed. “I need to get back to him.”

“I’ll drive you,” he said.

I stopped and looked at his somber expression. “I’ll call an Uber. Carmen already told me it’s your weekend off. Please, enjoy it. You’re a remarkable doctor, and trust me, I appreciate your help, but as you can tell, I’m in no position to appreciate anything fully right now.”

Fifteen minutes after my meltdown, I walked out of the bathroom ready to leave for the hospital. I dressed in my clothes that Dr. Mitchell had laundered, my hair wrapped up in a tight, wet bun. Upon entering the living area of the hotel room, I heard Dr. Mitchell on the phone in the other room. The guy was a busy man. I didn’t have time to apologize, and so I escaped from the room as quickly as I could.

I was in a jacked-up frame of mind, and Carmen sounded like she would chew my ass out if I showed up at the hospital ready to blame anyone because I slept too well. The Uber was at the hotel waiting, having sent for it right after leaving Dr. Mitchell in the room, staring at me like I was a crazy woman.

When I got to Dad’s room, he was sleeping, and I sighed in relief that I was back. I looked over at Carmen as she walked over to where I sat on the sofa in the room.

She placed her hand over my shoulder. “You can’t do this to yourself. The guilt, the worry, and the shame.” She shook her head.

“How would you know that’s what I’m doing?” I asked. “I can’t lose him like I lost my mother.”

“No, you can’t, and you won’t,” she said. “But you also can’t carry your mother’s death around like this. It’s not healthy. You will end up sick. It’s not good for you or your father. It’s not fair to either one of you.”

I started tearing up, frustrated that I couldn’t shake mom’s death and just move forward. “I don’t know what to do,” I cried. “I thought I’d grieved her death, and then it all came back when I almost lost him.”

“You are stuck in an unhealthy stage of grief,” she said sadly. “You have yet to accept her death to heal from it.”

“I can’t just accept her death. I never will. She was stolen from me, and now I—” I waved my hand over at Dad, tears streaming down my face. “Now, I have to look at him like this and be reminded that he was almost stolen from me too?”

“He wasn’t stolen, was he?” she said calmly. “He’s still with you, mija. And it’s not every day that the best surgeon in the world is the one who cares for him now. You are blessed in many ways with Dr. Mitchell and your dad’s strong will to be with you. He’s a survivor.” She frowned and ran her hand over my hair. “Though you aren’t acting like you are.”

“I just want it to be over and everyone safe.”

“In time.” She smiled. “But if you don’t start living your life for you, you will be in worse shape than your dad.”

“I don’t know how. I’m scared to lose him, to leave him.”

“Because that is your only focus,” she said. “You must find a distraction. We will work on it together. I will help you.” She softly slapped my leg. “And I will help your dad.”

“You don’t have to take on our burdens, Carmen. You’re doing so much already.”

She smiled. “You have good souls, you and your dad. You are good people, and I like to help good people. It’s why I do what I do.” She stood, hearing shuffling outside of the room. “We will work to make you happy and healthy again.” She looked at the curtain. “I’ll be back. Your dad will be waking up soon.”

I sat there, not knowing what to say to Carmen. She was a guardian angel, so much more than only an in-home health nurse. She and Dr. Mitchell were both God-sends to Dad and me. I just wished I could stop with these toxic feelings of worrying about dad.

I had to get my shit together, or all I’d be doing was reversing the work Dr. Mitchell did to save Dad, the work Carmen was doing to help him recover…all of it. I couldn’t be the thorn in everyone’s side.

Here I sat, knowing I’d walked out on Dr. Mitchell’s ridiculous generosity like a crazy bitch. Jesus Christ, I could never face that man again. I couldn’t imagine what the man thought of me now.

I didn’t want to know. I wanted to find my happiness and free spirit again. I had to hope I could, or I was seriously fucked. The way Carmen spoke, I had a feeling she’d make sure I took care of myself. It didn’t seem like she’d have it any other way.