Chapter 1: Once Burned

Chapter 1:

Anika’s P.O.V

“Exotic…exquisite, and efficient. We hardly see such deadly combination in women nowadays.”

My boss, Steven Hallow, a man in his mid 40’s with a beautiful wife and two lovely children…clinked his Champagne flute to mine and at the same time, rubbed his sock covered feet up my bare leg.

I forced a smile at the senior surgeon and moved my legs out of the way, but it wasn’t all that comfortable while sitting right next to the man in question, and when I was in a room filled with guests and trustee members who were all gathered to donate handsome amounts to the hospital funds to help us with our research work.

I always knew Steven had a habit of coming on too strong and underestimating women in the medical work field, but he had always been a bit too…touchy-feely, if that was even a word, when it had come to me.

Steven hadn’t always been this obvious or open about his ‘liking’ towards me, but tonight, he had drowned one too many drinks and thrown common sense out the window. Or perhaps, it was the fact that he was amongst all the rich and powerful people who were used to treating ‘immigrants’ like myself, however they wanted and getting away with it? Whatever the reason, I was done being the arm-candy for the Chief of Surgery and feeling like naked meat served out on a platter for the wolves.

“Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me,” I gave a polite smile and got up from the seat, but Steven’s hand instantly wrapped around my upper arm, with enough force that I would need to wrestle him to get free.

“What’s the hurry? The evening has only just begun.” Steven spoke with a slight slur and I had to grit my teeth to stop myself from losing my composure.

“I’m sorry,” I told him with a forced smile. “I really need to use the washroom.”

“Let the pretty lady go, Steve.” One of the gentlemen clapped my boss on the back, as if he too found the situation disrespectful. “We have finance to discuss and we shouldn’t keep her at the old men’s table. Let the young enjoy the night!”

I gave the man in the grey suit a thankful smile and Steven seemed to come to his senses, even if for a little bit. “Yes, sure.”

He let go of my arm and turned to face the other man and they immediately started chatting sales and profits. I took that as my cue and slinging my purse over my shoulder, took hold of my champagne flute and made a dash for the sidelines, where I spotted some familiar faces huddled together. I headed for the only woman who I considered my friend.

“Tell me truthfully,” I asked Teresa Patton, my friend from Oncology and a fellow Resident. “How slutty do I look?”

I turned a bit from side to side, showing off my ‘respectable’ black dress with full lace sleeves, a solid bodice and a boat neck. The dress wasn’t exactly figure-hugging as I had decided to go one size up, but it did reach my knees and showed my legs. I had paired the dress with shiny black pumps that were hardly two inches high and a pair of black crystal danglers. My straight black hair was pulled back from my face in a high ponytail to give me a neat look. Simple and elegant.

“On a scale of ‘hello, sexy’ and ‘what would your mother say’?” Teresa gave me an once-over, pursing her lips. “Yup. It’s definitely a ‘what would people say’ look.”

 “Isn’t it always?” I clinked my champagne flute with hers and stood next to her to watch over the guests.

Teresa had been my friend since the start of my medical college and as usual, the tall, blonde and leggy woman had been a sore spot for my uptight, traditional Indian mother. Ever since I was young, I had always been advised to stay away from ‘foreigners’ as they were a bad influence for me and one day, I just might end up becoming a slut like them.

For my traditional mother, the definition of a ‘good girl’ was a woman who never became the center of attention, performed their best in studies and didn’t focus on anything other than becoming a doctor or an engineer, and stayed a virgin till she was wedded to a wealthy, capable gentleman who would then how she spent the rest of her life. If I was ‘allowed’ to work after marriage, it was a privilege that I should continue only till I got pregnant and then, my career was over and I was only good enough to take care of the kids, my in-laws and my husband, until the day I died. Oh, did I mention I ‘must’ produce a son?

Yes, this wasn’t the case in all Indian households and so many people were so much more open-minded and futuristic. But I got the raw end of the traditional stick in this case. Which is why I could never understand why my parents even moved to New York in the first place, if they hated ‘foreign culture’ so much. But was I ever allowed to question that decision or bring it up in casual conversation? Not even in my dreams.

Their excuse was that they did everything they could to provide me with quality education, provided me with money for med school and ‘allowed’ me to move into a separate apartment, so I had absolutely no right to complain about anything they did.

Thankfully, Teresa had adapted to my parent’s mindset and never worn shorts or skirts to my parent’s house even if it was a hundred degrees outside. My mom hadn't started liking her, but she did learn to ‘tolerate’ Teresa. But the condition had been that we did our assignments in the living room, where Teresa didn’t have any opportunity to ‘spoil’ me.

Tonight, Teresa wore a blue floor length silk, off-shoulder dress that accentuated her figure and highlighted her blue eyes. Next to her, I looked like a corporate secretary rather than a woman at a high-class party. I’m sure I was underdressed compared to everyone in the room by it wasn’t something I could do anything about. The photos from this event would most definitely reach my mom by tomorrow morning and she would flip if I wasn’t wearing anything respectable.

And God forbid if word about my harassment tonight reached her ears. She would instantly tell me to stop working and just get married to my fiancé of one year, Rahul Verma, just so his family didn’t think I wasn’t worth marrying anymore.

Did I mention it was an arranged marriage?

Rahul and I met two years ago, on our engagement day. Two complete strangers who had been bound to spend the rest our lives together just because our families deemed us a perfect match.

Thankfully, Rahul was a kind gentleman in his late twenties who worked as a civil engineer and had a stable job, owned an apartment and a car. All of this was enough for my parents to jump at the opportunity to get me engaged to such an eligible bachelor, who had been kind enough to ‘allow’ me to work after marriage. Unfortunately, my mother thought that my dusky complexion wouldn’t let me get any better husband, so Rahul it was.

“I think I’ll get going.” I told Teresa as the clock struck nine. “I have an early morning shift tomorrow and we get our post charts.”

“Man, I really hope we get selected for New York City Hospital together.” Teresa gave me a tired smile, having worked for the entire day before attending the party. “The facility is great and the doctors are cool to work with.”

“Yeah,” I gave her a tight smile. “I hope so too.”

Saying goodnight to Teresa, I headed to the garage where my car was parked. She wasn’t wrong about the facility and the doctors; in fact, being able to work in New York City Hospital would be a dream come true. But was I really up for working under Steven for possibly the rest of my career? I wasn’t so sure.

I spotted my Mercedes Benz GLA in the parking and headed straight for it, since the lot was pretty much empty. This baby had cost me a fortune, but it was my first big investment with my own money and I was damn proud of it.

However, just before I reached my car, someone grabbed me from around the waist and hauled me against their body forcefully, covering my mouth so I couldn’t scream.

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetling?” The stench of alcohol was all over his body and I instantly knew who it was. “I told you, didn’t I? The evening has just started.”

I thought of what I could do and all the different scenarios played out in my head within the span of a few seconds. So I abandoned all thoughts, as I felt Steven tug me backwards; grabbed onto my purse as hard as I could and swung it backwards with all the strength I could master and hit him right in the nuts.

“Bloody bitch!” Steven yelled, letting go of me to clutch at his nuts as he went down and I didn’t look back before sprinting towards my car, unlocking it with my keys in the process.

It was only after I got into my car, locked the doors and started driving full speed ahead that it finally set in how big of a disaster I was in right now. I had just punched my boss in the nuts and he wasn’t going to be too pleased about it tomorrow and no matter what I said, I would always be the one at fault.

I drove straight to my apartment that I shared with a fellow Indian woman, Ashwini Singh. It was the only place my parents would let me stay at even though it was far away from my hospital.

However, it seemed that fate just wasn’t on my side today.

Just as I unlocked the door and entered the apartment, I found clothes scattered all over the living room, both male and female…and a very familiar voice coming from Ash’s room.

No…it couldn’t be? Could it?

But as I barged into the room without knocking, I felt the wind get knocked out of me at the sight in front.

Ashwini was naked and in bed with a very naked man, in a very compromising positing…and the man was none other than my fiancé, Rahul Verma.