Misdiagnosis in andrology, My Billionaire Husband

he fibers of Jeanine's scrubs over the last forty-eight hours. She slammed her locker shut, the

amp across the top-OVERDUE-seemed to pulse like an infected w

er's lif

slammed int

g the bill to her chest as

it, McI

rcissism that made Jeanine's stomach turn. He spun around, his eyes landing on her with the predatory focu

ocked the bre

s spit landing on her cheek. "I nee

ced at the schedule on the wall. "Dr. Thorne, I... I'm on the

ing her personal space until she could smell the stale coffee on his br

get to pick and choose. You do what I tell you, or I write an 'F' on your evaluation so f

host from a childhood she tried to forget, c

surgical prep. Shave and scrub. It's a circumc

than the debt, heavier than the exhaustion. Without that scholarship, the medical bills w

, Do

n't make

turned

ain was a chaotic storm of pharmacological formulas and debt calculations, but her body moved on

Suit

men in black suits stood outside the door like gargoyles. They were wide

r breath hitching.

g so badly the plastic tapped against the

assessing her threat level. He saw the frayed scrubs, the dark

heavy door open a

d expensive leather. The lighting was dim, focused on the bed in t

p to his waist, exposing a broad, muscular back that tapered into

on the rolling table. The clatter of steel on steel soun

n didn

sedated, she though

he name field was blank, replaced by a code: VI

a pair of latex gloves. The sound was crisp. "

moved to the side of the bed. The protocol was ingrained

eks burned. She was a doctor; this

ed the s

soaked it in cold betadine, and

iquid touched his ski

as iron, shot out and c

he tray clattering as her

val instincts kicked in. He looked like a predator that had just been poked with a sti

umbled back, her hip slamming into the instrument cart. Metal b

is voice was a low growl, strained through c

f her wrist. It was like trying to bend stee

The two bodyguards

est. Her heart stopped. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think

s locked on her, his grip tightening until she thought her ra

rds, his voice icy despite the t

their weapons but d

ith a look of utter disgust. She stu

ed. He was wearing silk boxers. He glared at her, his chest heaving. "I'

Kidney stone. Thorne had

p..." Her voice was a pathetic squeak, the stut

etadine, the razor on the floor, and then back at her. The realization of what sh

ll button and slammed

leaving Jeanine's face. "And get this woman's lic