The Final Temptation [POV: Nate]
The hospital corridors was filled with their usual controlled chaos, nurses hurrying between rooms, the occasional call for a doctor echoing overhead. I finished my last round of the day, double-checking patient notes, ensuring my team had everything they needed before I clocked out early.
As I turned a corner, I nearly bumped into Ericka, who smirked as she steadied herself.
“Watch it, Dr. Wood,” she teased, arms crossed. “Someone’s in a hurry.”
I chuckled. “What gave it away?”
She scanned me up and down, her knowing gaze locking onto the navy-blue blazer I’d thrown over my usual button-up. “The fact that you actually gave a damn about dressing up today. No scrubs, no white coat—you’re practically glowing, Nate.”
I shook my head, a small smile playing on my lips. “Yeah, well, I’ve got a big night ahead.”
Her brows lifted, intrigued. “Let me guess—date night?”
I hesitated, then decided to just say it. “More than that.” I pulled the small black box from my pocket, flipping it open just enough for her to glimpse the ring inside. “I’m gonna propose to my girl.”
Ericka’s face lit up.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, a rare moment of softness crossing her normally sharp features. “Nate, that’s amazing!”
I grinned. “I hope she thinks so too.”
She reached out, squeezing my shoulder. “She will. You’re one of the good ones, Wood.” Then, as if realizing she was getting sentimental, she cleared her throat, snapping back into her usual blunt demeanor. “Now get your ass out of here. I’ll cover for you so you can leave early. I still have the rest of the day before I’m officially out.”
I nodded, grateful. “Thanks, Ericka. And good luck with your move. They’re lucky to have you.”
She smirked. “Damn right they are.”
With that, I strode out to the parking lot, unlocking my car with a click. The moment I slid into the driver’s seat, I pulled the ring box from my pocket again, flipping it open and staring at the silver band nestled in velvet.
A lifetime with Hannah.
I was ready.
“I’m gonna marry my girl.”
***
[POV: Hannah]
Since Vincent arrived on my first day, the time had stretched longer than I expected, but I didn’t mind.
Camzi Marketing had been everything I needed—structured, professional, and so far removed from my past that I almost believed it never existed. No neon lights. No alcohol-soaked rooms. No wandering hands or whispered propositions in dark corners. Just a desk, a structured schedule, and a paycheck that came from my work and nothing else.
It felt normal. It felt safe. I was beginning to let myself believe I could stay in this world.
I glanced at the clock. 6:00 PM.
Plenty of time.
Nate and I had plans tonight—a dinner at Buvette, just a few blocks from my office. That’s why I hadn’t rushed to leave. I’d freshen up, touch up my makeup, and still get there before him.
Then, Mr. Harrison’s office door swung open. Finally, whatever brought Vincent here is over.
“Hannah,” he called, stepping out with a warm but expectant look. “One last thing before you go.”
I stilled. A sinking feeling settled low in my stomach. Please, don’t let it be overtime. Not tonight.
“Yes, sir?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral.
He offered a kind smile. “I need you to pick up a file from Vincent’s office. It’s critical for a case we’re finalizing, and I need it first thing in the morning.”
My fingers tightened around the strap of my purse. Vincent.
I had spent the entire day avoiding his texts, ignoring the unknown numbers I knew belonged to him, blocking every new attempt to reach me.
And now, fate was handing me over to him.
I hesitated. “Can’t I just—”
“Hannah,” Mr. Harrison interrupted gently, “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
I swallowed down the protest rising in my throat. Damn it.
With a forced smile, I nodded. “I’ll get it done.”
***
The ride with Vincent was too quiet. Uncomfortably so. I kept my arms crossed, my body angled away from him, as if that small distance would be enough to keep him from pulling me back into his orbit.
Vincent didn’t speak.
Didn’t even look at me.
And that was worse.
I wanted him to act normal. To say something crude or arrogant so I could snap at him, push him back where he belonged—far away from me.
But instead, he just drove. The silence stretched between us, heavy, like a waiting game I was losing.
I turned toward him slightly. “Let’s just be quick, okay?”
Nothing.
His grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles turning white, as if he was battling something in his head.
Then—
He made a sharp right turn.
My stomach dropped. I looked out the window, and dread pooled inside me as I recognized where we were going.
A hotel.
My pulse spiked.
I turned to him, my voice sharp. “What the hell are we doing here?”
Vincent finally looked at me, smirking.
“The file’s inside,” he said smoothly, too smoothly. “In a room I booked.”
I stared at him, disbelieving. No. No, no, no.
“You can’t do this,” I whispered, my voice a mix of disbelief and growing panic. “I told you—I’m done with that. I have a boyfriend.”
Vincent let out a low chuckle, his gaze dragging over my bare legs, lingering.
“Relax, Hannah. It’s just a file.”
And then—his hand was on my thigh. I sucked in a sharp breath, my entire body tensing. I should have slapped him. Should have shoved him away.
But I didn’t.
Because I felt it.
The heat of his palm, the slow, teasing way his fingers traced the edge of my skirt. And worst of all—the way my body reacted before my brain could shut it down.
Vincent saw it. Felt it.
His smirk deepened.
He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear.
“Do what?” he murmured.
His fingers inched higher, pressing just enough to make me shiver.
“Do this?” he whispered.
I clenched my thighs together, gripping the seat beneath me.
I hated him.
God, I hated him.
But my body—my traitorous body—still remembered him.
And Vincent knew it.
