A Gambling Heart: A BWWM Billionaire Romance (7 page)

I knew he was trouble. No, let me rephrase that…I knew I was in trouble. The effect of one Gareth Westbrook was like my relationship with tequila. I knew it was bad for me.

I avoided it at all costs. But life had a way of throwing me lemons, which made the drink taste wonderful. And the more I drank it, the less I remembered why I avoided drinking it in the first place.

Gareth holding my hand as he slept felt terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. A current flowed between the palms of our hands. It travelled all the way up my arm and somehow made a straight path for my heart. I felt giddy…lightheaded…happy.

I scolded myself for feeling like a silly teenage girl. I drew my hand away as I noticed that he was now breathing evenly. I knew he was fast asleep as I tiptoed away from the room. I should write down my observations about his medical condition. Nurse Silva expected it.

I made my way to the nurses’ station and retrieved his test results. I was glad they all came back negative. The CAT scan showed no bone injuries and his lungs and chest were clear as well. He showed no signs of injury to his spinal cord as reflected in the MRI. I felt glad about that, although an anxious thought sprouted in my brain.
He could be discharged anytime.
It was a depressing thought.

“Did he bite your head off?” someone asked me from the back of the station. It was Mel.

I couldn’t tell them he was meek as a lamb. They would wonder why. So I replied casually, “Yup, he was being difficult at first but I managed to talk some sense into him. He is asleep now.”

Mel was skeptical. “How did you manage that? He was like a mad dog.”

“I said that if he didn’t behave himself, I…we would be forced to use restraints on him.”

“Yeah, serves him right.” Mel was still smarting from the incident.

“Don’t think too much about it,” I consoled her. “Besides, his tests came back all negative. He might be discharged any time soon. You don’t have to see him again.”

I left the floor and made my way to Nurse Silva’s office to hand in my report. She was still busy working at her desk.

“How did everything go? I heard what happened to the other two nurses. Did he make trouble for you as well?”

“No. I think he just wanted to be alone for a bit. Have some privacy. Probably didn’t like the idea of someone giving him a bath. I found him in the sh-shower.” The memory made me stutter. I avoided my superior’s gaze.

“Uh-huh. Anything else?”

“Nothing. That’s it.” My response came out too quickly.

Nurse Silva cocked her head. I couldn’t lie to those probing eyes.

“He came out dripping wet with just a towel around his waist.”

“And…”

“So…I got him a robe so he could at least be decent…in front of me.”

She just looked at me, eyebrows raised to the roof.

“Oh Jesus…okay! So he chucked the robe for a pair of pajamas and I saw him butt naked. There.”

“And that had no effect on you whatsoever because you are a nurse, right?”

“Yes.” Uncertain. Hesitant. Lame.

“Bullshit, Sienna. I have seen him too, you know. My ovaries are shriveled and dried up, but even
he
has an effect on me.”

If I could blush, I would have. I shrugged my shoulder and added, “He held my hand as he went to sleep.”

“Oh Lord!”

I was to blame for that one. I could have pulled away but didn’t.

“Look, Sienna. I knew it. When he asked about you that first night he was admitted, I knew he was interested in you. He couldn’t fool me.

I saw the look in his eyes when I told him you weren’t coming back the next day because it was your day off. He was disappointed. I thought assigning him other nurses would make him forget all about you. Goodness, there are enough pheromones inside that room attracting the nurses like flies to honey.”

Graphic. And she hit the nail right in the head. I was one of those flies. But Nurse Silva wasn’t finished yet.

“I know you have a good head on your shoulder. I can’t tell you what to do. But I can warn you though. Guys like Gareth Westbrook? They are dangerous… just like the lifestyle he lives. Taking too many chances and gambling with his existence.

He can do a lot of damage to your heart. You can play along if you want to. I wouldn’t blame you because you are an attractive woman, not a robot without a sex drive. But after he is discharged, make sure he doesn’t take your heart with him. That’s all I’m going to say about that.”

“Yes, Nurse Silva,” I answered meekly.

I knew she meant well. I wanted to refute that there was really nothing to worry about. But I couldn’t convince myself that were true. If Gareth wanted more than just hold my hand, I didn’t think I would resist him…could resist him.

Right now, I was jumping the gun. All we did was hold hands. It was probably nothing. He needed comfort. I was there to give it. Guys like Gareth Westbrook probably had a girl behind every door he opened. If Nurse Silva was right and he was really interested, I happened to be in the right place at the wrong time.

As I said goodnight to her, I consoled myself with the thought that I could still control whatever it was that drew me to Gareth Westbrook.

If I saw him again I vowed to be friendly but distant. He didn’t have total control over me. I controlled my own destiny. The thought comforted me. But honestly, it also made me feel miserable.

“I must be getting my period,” I said to myself, thinking of how I was swinging between both ends of the spectrum.

Plus, I had absolutely no idea that life was about to give me my share of lemons again. And like a chump who knew that Gareth Westbrook was like tequila laced with vodka, I allowed myself to be strung along. I told myself the lemons would make the drink taste better.

I shrugged aside Nurse Silva’s warnings, thinking I had life by the balls. I was in command of my destiny. But life was laughing, and it was laughing at me behind my back.

***

Gareth was gone.

By the time I went back to work the next day he was discharged. My life took a turn somewhere between him holding my hand as he fell asleep and me whistling while taking an early morning shower.

I wanted to look pretty and wished I could wear regular clothes instead of the ubiquitous scrubs. But Nurse Silva would frown on that idea so I chose the lime green among the different colored scrubs in my closet. I thought it went well with my skin.

There was nothing much I could do about my hair except pull it back into a simple French pleat.

“Someone’s feeling pretty,” Chantal greeted as I entered the living room. She was preparing breakfast. “You did your hair too.” My forehead furrowed. It was something I hoped would go unnoticed.

“Yeah, it’s a beautiful day…any day is good when you prepare breakfast,” I mocked lightly.

“Could it be because of one Gareth Westbrook, current occupant of the BHH floor? I heard the nurses talking. They said
you
managed to calm him down last night.”

Word got around fast in a hospital floor.

“I-I guess, you could say that. But I-err-I knew what needed to be done.” I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “You know how it is with patients. Sometimes you give them what they want…they settle down.”

“And what did he want?”

“He wanted to be left alone.”

“But you were there with him, right?”

“I…yeah, I guess. By the time I got there, he was done having a snit and was ready to cooperate. No biggie.”

“If you say so…” That was Chantal joshing me, hoping to get a reaction.

I pretended not to hear as I made of show of praising her dry scrambled eggs and burnt bacon. I didn’t want to seem like in such a mad rush to go out the door, jump into the train, and get to the hospital.

I could try and pretend with Chantal but I couldn’t fool myself. My hands were sweaty from anticipation as we neared the hospital premises. Things seemed quiet. I was too engrossed to notice that the media vans and the reporters were gone.

A few of the nurses were milling outside the back entrance as we approached.

“Have you heard? The ogre’s gone,” one of them greeted us. There was a look of relief on her face.

“Who’s gone?” I asked, puzzled. My heart began to pound.

“The Westbrook guy at the BHH. He was discharged very early this morning.”

“Gareth was discharged?” I asked as my heart sunk to the pavement.

“Yup, one of the night shifts said they had to hush-hush the departure because of all the news reporters at the front gate. An SUV decoy was used and when the media followed thinking it was him, he left thru the back entrance.”

I was stunned. I knew that he would be discharged sooner or later, but not today. I struggled to appear unconcerned. I was devastated of course. Gareth was gone. I remembered my vow to be friendly but distant. To be in command. I didn’t have to pretend anymore. The thought didn’t do much good.

“That’s good news for everyone.” Note sarcasm.

“Yeah…I wouldn’t go near him even if he paid me to. But I heard you managed well, Sienna. Any gossip you want to share?”

I frowned to indicate my disapproval. She could interpret it any which way she wanted—that I was relieved too or wasn’t a blabbermouth. Gossip wasn’t encouraged at the hospital, although the nurses would often let loose when Nurse Silva wasn’t around.

“There’s nothing to say. He was a patient. I took care of business. I’m glad he has been discharged. That’s one less looking after for everyone concerned.”

Lie. Of course it mattered. Why else was there a metal plate crushing my chest. But no one needed to know that. I would deal with my personal feelings my way. I should be grateful he wouldn’t be around to mess up my life again the way he did these last few days. I had made a narrow escape. He was gone for good.

I went about my morning shift, occupying my time on those who needed attention. I was about to check on the next chart when I heard the hospital paging system.

“Nurse Miller, Nurse Sienna Miller to the nursing director’s office. Stat.”

I was surprised. Apprehension wrapped around me. Had I done something wrong? Dr. Steve Newell, Director for Nursing Services, hardly ever called for any of the nurses.

It was Nurse Silva’s task to either reprimand us for mistakes or keep us informed about any development coming from the director’s office. What could he possibly want from me? I racked my brain for any reason as I hied off to his office.

I knocked on his door and tried to hide my nervousness. I was even more surprised to find Nurse Silva inside with him, and she didn’t look very happy. Director Newell, on the other hand, looked very pleased with himself. She gave me a nod as the director pointed to a chair.

“Director Newell, you paged me?”

“Yes, Sienna. I have good news to share with you.”

Odd. He never addressed anyone by their first names. He was a stickler for protocol. I kept quiet. This man had the power to make or break a nurse’s career.

“We have a donor for the new wing that has always been on the drawing board but never had the funds to see it through.”

I immediately knew he was talking about the hospice wing for children. It was a dream that was closest to the hospital’s veteran staff because the hospice would care for terminally ill children. It was the vision of the original founder of the hospital, and until his death, only remained a dream.

“That’s great, Director Newell. It can finally be done.”

I was happy about the news but wondered why I had to hear it from him. I could wait till the announcement was official. Couldn’t I? And why did Nurse Silva look annoyed instead of overjoyed?

“I’m happy you think so because I need you to make this dream of the hospital come true.”

What? Me?

“You remember our very important patient, Mr. Westbrook? Well, I just finished a conference call with him and his manager, Steve Truman. Mr. Westbrook is our very generous donor for the said hospital wing.”

I was stunned.

“Oh. Th-that’s very generous of him.” I kept a straight face. Nurse Silva was looking at me intently. “He-he was discharged this morning.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Yes. Yes, his team of doctors thought it was alright to do so. They will continue tending to him at his home. I was against the idea, but…”

But…no one says no to one Gareth Westbrook. I knew that.

“So, I don’t understand…I mean… how I can help…”

I was confused. Gareth was discharged as per his doctor’s order. He was no longer the responsibility of the hospital.

“I believe the man is on his way to recovery. I have no doubts about that. But because of the severity of his accident, his major sponsors are demanding that he rest completely for a couple of weeks before racing again. They require a clean bill of health.”

I understood that. Gareth was probably worth millions of dollars to them. But it still didn’t answer why I was here in this room with Director Newell and Nurse Silva. My face showed my confusion.

“Oh…for crying out loud. Stop beating around the bush. Just tell her, John.”

I was taken aback by Nurse Silva’s outburst. I have never heard her talk that way to him before. Director Newell looked embarrassed and didn’t seem to know what to say. Nurse Silva, however, wasn’t as reticent.

“What he means to ask you is… are you willing to work as a private nurse for Mr. Gareth Westbrook.”

“What?” The wind got knocked out of me.

“It will be fine, Sienna,” Director Newell cut in rather swiftly. “The time will be credited to your hospital record. It will help a great deal with regards to your status for promotion and your future here at Mary Johnston.”

Hmm…it felt like a bribe. Director Newell sounded like he was trying not to beg.

“Look, Sienna,” Nurse Silva added, “you don’t have to. The hospital cannot force you to do so. It’s not in your contract. I want you to know that. I’m sure they can find some other arrangements… if you are not inclined.”

“Bu-but…why me?”

Director Newell and Nurse Silva exchanged looks. It was like a stare-down contest. Nurse Silva won.

“Because Mr. Westbrook asked for you.” She said that with exasperation, then sighed deeply like there was nothing more she could do about it.

Although I was still in shock, it didn’t take long for me to put two and two together.

Gareth Westbrook would generously make a donation for the hospital to get its longtime dream of a children’s hospice, but in exchange he wanted me to nurse for him until his sponsors were a hundred percent reassured that he was healthy again. But why me in particular? He could have any of the nurses he wanted.

Then I remembered the incident last night. He probably felt most comfortable with me. I wanted to think that he was attracted to me but I didn’t want to go there just now.

The thought of being with him again thrilled and scared me. But at the same time, I couldn’t resist the nagging feeling that I was some kind of bounty, a prize, a deal of some kind.

“Director Newell, will he still give the donation if I decline?”

Director Newell stuttered, turned red in the neck, before replying, “I…uh…we didn’t talk about that. But he did hint at another donation to furnish the hospice.”

“Wow...” was all I managed to say.

“Sienna, I warned you about him…”

“Nurse Silva, please. I think Nurse Miller is old enough to make up her own mind.”

They must have talked about me even before I came in. I was sure Nurse Silva didn’t mince words about her sentiment. She made it quite clear to me at her office that she didn’t trust Gareth Westbrook. I also realized getting that donation would be a feather in Director Newell’s hat. The board of directors of the hospital would forever be grateful. He could retire with a hefty pension.

I sat there undecided. Gareth has made it so that I feel like my hands were tied. If I refused, there was no guarantee the hospital would be getting a new wing and the furnishings that would go along with the second donation. If Gareth broke his promise and changed his mind, I would forever be the person who made it not happen for all those children in need of care. How could I live with my conscience knowing I was responsible for that? Even if no one ever knew about it, I would.

But saying yes scared the hell out of me. I knew such close proximity to him on a daily basis wouldn’t be good for me either. I remembered the way I felt when told he was discharged. That didn’t auger well for my mental health.

I knew bits about the kind of man he was, but I knew absolutely nothing too. Was this some kind of game for him? Did he have some kind of fetish for black women like me?

I could still work on my vow to be friendly but distant. But that premise was based on familiar surroundings, like him being a patient in the hospital. As his personal nurse, I would be in strange territory…his territory.

The crossroad loomed before me. I wanted to step on the brakes but instead I made for the pedal and stepped on the gas.

“Alright, I agree,” I heard myself saying.

Nurse Silva hissed her disapproval while Director Newell almost lunged at me in relief.

“Thank you, thank you, my dear girl. This is such a great thing for the hospital. I’ll draw up the deed of donation with Mr. Westbrook tonight. You’re a saint, Nurse Miller.”

I wanted to laugh. I really didn’t feel very saintly as the image of Gareth’s naked ass flashed before my mind. A delicious shiver ran through my body just thinking about it. I wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by him…to feel his hand caressing my skin.

It was then I knew I would go wherever Gareth chose to bring this arrangement. I will deal with my sanity later…if and when it came to that. The die was cast.