All Chapters of Your Lips to Mine #4: The Billionaire's Heartbeat: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

I could feel the weight of the silence in the hallway before I even saw her. Rachel. Always calm, always composed, but with a sharp edge lurking beneath the surface. It wasn’t the first time she had found a moment to corner me, but this time, I knew it would be different. She had been watching. I could feel it. The way her eyes lingered a little longer than necessary, the way her questions had become more pointed, more intentional. There was something brewing behind her practiced smile, and I had a feeling I wouldn’t like it. I was leaving the patient floor, my mind still swirling with the results of my latest rounds, when I spotted her leaning casually against the wall. She was waiting for me. Her arms crossed, her expression unreadable, but I knew better. There was always something beneath that exterior. Rachel was never one to hide her thoughts when it came to James. And right now, her thoughts were very much centered on me. “Olivia,” she said, her voice smooth, almost too smooth

The phone rings again, a shrill sound that cuts through the quiet of my office like a blade. I glance at the caller ID, my stomach tightening instinctively. James. I hesitate before answering, already dreading the conversation. "Olivia," his voice crackles through the line, strained and rough, a far cry from the calm tone I’m used to. "I need you in my office. Now." My heart skips a beat. I don’t need to ask why. Derek Sullivan, the ruthless competitor who’s been circling James’s company like a vulture, has ramped up his campaign. I can feel it in the air—the weight of impending disaster, the tension building with each passing day. I know how much this is affecting James, how much it's draining him. But nothing I say ever seems to change his course. He refuses to step back, refuses to let anyone take charge of the situation. It’s always been this way—his stubbornness, his need for control. “I’ll be right there,” I say, my voice calm, even though my mind is racing. I grab my coat an

It’s strange how something as simple as sitting in silence can make you feel like you’ve said everything that needs to be said. That’s how I feel right now, sitting by the window in James’s room as he rests. The room is dim, the early morning light filtering through the curtains in pale golden streaks. James is lying in the bed, his breathing slow and steady, the rise and fall of his chest almost soothing to watch. I’ve been here for what feels like hours, not really doing anything, just... being. Sometimes, that’s enough. I didn’t think I would ever say that, but with James, in this quiet space, it’s true. There’s so much unspoken between us, but in this moment, I feel like we understand each other more than words could ever express. The sound of his voice startles me from my thoughts. “Olivia?” I turn to find his eyes open, slightly unfocused but steady enough to make me feel like he’s truly aware of me. My heart gives a little jolt at the sight of him, vulnerable but still stron

It’s funny how something so simple can become so complicated. A boundary, something that should be clear, should be non-negotiable, has suddenly become a battleground between what I know is right and what feels so wrong in the best way. I had always prided myself on being able to maintain clear, professional boundaries with my patients. I knew where I stood, what was appropriate, and what was off-limits. My role as a doctor was simple: care for them, guide them, but never cross that line. Yet, somehow, here I am, struggling with a line that feels as thin as air. James. James has been my patient for months now, and despite my best efforts to remain professional, he’s slowly become more than that. It’s hard to describe, but there’s something in the way he looks at me, the way he listens so intently, the way he makes me feel both seen and understood. It’s hard to ignore. But I have to. I have to maintain my boundaries. He’s still my patient. I remind myself of that, over and over.

I’ve always prided myself on being professional. In this world where emotions can easily cloud judgment, I’ve managed to keep my distance, to stay grounded in what I know: medicine, science, the facts. I’ve built my career on it. My life has been neatly compartmentalized, each piece fitting into its place—until James. Now, I feel like I’m standing at the edge of something I can’t control, something I can’t fit into my neatly organized world. And this time, I can’t look away. I can’t pretend that I’m just a doctor treating a patient anymore. I’ve crossed a line, and I know it. The question is, how far across that line have I gone? I’m sitting at my desk in my small office at the hospital, a cup of untouched coffee cooling in front of me, the papers I should be reviewing scattered across the surface. My mind isn’t on them, though. It’s on him. James. I can’t seem to escape the thoughts of him, of his eyes when he looks at me, of the way he’s made me feel in ways I never thought I woul