Chapter 70

Rowena

I washed my hands briskly, trying to calm my nerves as I prepared for my first shift working under Dr. Reynolds’ supervision. Taking a deep breath, I stepped back into the infirmary ward.

“Rowena. Let’s get started, shall we? I need you to scrub the scuff marks off those floors over there.” He gestured to a far corner with a dismissive wave of his hand.

I furrowed my brow. Scrubbing the walls wasn’t exactly in the job description.

“Something wrong?” Dr. Reynolds asked, cocking his head to the side.

I opened my mouth to retort, but then quickly shut it again. I figured I was already on shaky grounds after my office had been shut down, and that it wasn’t worth arguing over.

“No, sir.”

Dr. Reynolds smiled at me. “Good. The mop and bucket is over there,” he said, nodding his head toward the utility closet on the far side of the room.

Once I had prepared the mop and bucket, I made my way over to the scuff marks on the floor and began scrubbing vigorously, trying to channel my nervous energy into the task at hand. Thankfully, the rhythmic motions of the mop against the tiles was almost therapeutic, allowing me to momentarily block out the unease I felt around this man.

After a while, the sound of Dr. Reynolds’ footsteps approached from behind. He came to a stop beside me, frowning down at my handiwork with thinly veiled disdain.

“That’s not good enough,” he said flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Here. Use this sponge and get on your hands and knees. Scrub harder.”

I blinked, heat rising to my cheeks as my gaze dropped to the sponge in his outstretched hand.

This seemed like an excessive, even demeaning request. Surely the mop was sufficient for simple scuff marks? But, not wanting to cause any trouble or draw his ire on my first day under his supervision, I reluctantly took the sponge and lowered myself to my hands and knees on the hard tile floor.

Gritting my teeth, I began scrubbing with rough, circular motions—putting far more effort into this menial task than should have been necessary. As I worked, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling of his eyes boring into me from behind, scrutinizing my every move like a predator watching its prey.

I shifted uncomfortably, readjusting my position on the floor, and that’s when I caught his gaze—fixed directly on my backside with an unmistakable leer. A rush of heat flooded my face as our eyes met for a fraction of a second before he quickly looked away, but the damage was done. A shudder ran through me at the thought of him openly ogling me in such a compromising position.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the task was complete. My knees ached from the unforgiving tiles as I stood, brushing off my shirt and trying to regain some semblance of whatever dignity I had left.

Dr. Reynolds nodded in approval, although the look in his eyes made my stomach churn. “Much better. Now, come take a look at these data reports.” He motioned me over to the desk on the far side of the room.

Eager to put some distance between us, I quickly made my way over and took a seat, grateful for the opportunity to focus on something other than his leering gaze—and something other than scuff marks in the corner. I began poring over the documents spread across the desktop, analyzing the information with furrowed brow as I tried to make sense of the data.

For a while, the room was blessedly silent save for the sound of rustling papers and my pen scratching out notes. With each passing moment, I could feel the tension gradually easing from my shoulders as I lost myself in the familiar realm of figures and statistics.

This, at least, was something I could understand—a reasonable task befitting someone of my skills and education.

But my reprieve was short-lived. I soon came across a set of figures that didn’t quite add up, frowning as I tried to determine where the discrepancy lay. After several minutes of fruitless efforts, I let out a soft sigh and turned to look over my shoulder.

“Dr. Reynolds? Could you take a look at this part here?” I kept my tone politely neutral as I gestured to the page.

Without a word, he leaned over my shoulder—his face uncomfortably close as the musky scent of his cologne overwhelmed my senses. I tensed as he reached across me, his arm hooking over my body as he used his pen to point at something on the paper.

“Here,” he said, his voice low and husky. “You missed this one.”

I swallowed. “T-Thank you.”

I expected Dr. Reynolds to move away then, but he didn’t.

The heat of his chest pressing against my back made me shudder. I could feel his warm breath fanning against my cheek with every inhale and exhale. My grip tightened on the pen until my knuckles turned white.

Shifting in my seat, I carefully tried to create some distance between us without being too overtly rude. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of my neck, and I just wanted to get out of here.

“I... I think I need to use the restroom,” I blurted out, standing so abruptly that my chair nearly toppled over behind me.

But before I could take a single step, he stepped in front of me—blocking my path with his tall, wiry frame.

“Can’t you wait?” His tone held a strange edge that made the knot in my stomach twist uncomfortably. “It’s better to use the bathroom after…” His eyes flicked down my body.

My brow furrowed in confusion. “After… what?” I murmured, already taking a step back.

“After we fuck, of course.”

Suddenly, without any warning, Dr. Reynolds lunged forward—trying to kiss me directly on the lips. I gasped and turned my head at the last second, his mouth finding my cheek instead as I recoiled in shock and disgust.

“D-Doctor!” I cried out, shoving at him. “What are you—”

But my words and actions didn’t deter him.

“I know you want it, you little slut,” he murmured into my ear, pressing his body against mine. “I know what you did with that boy in your office. And if you don’t want me to tell anyone, then you’ll do the same thing with me right here.”

His hands began roaming, groping at my body with shameless abandon as he trailed sloppy, aggressive kisses along my neck and jaw. I felt paralyzed, my mind utterly blank as I struggled to process what was happening.

This couldn’t be real… This couldn’t be…

When his wandering hands found the hem of my scrub top, trying to push it up over my ribs, something inside me finally snapped—a surge of adrenaline and raw panic giving me the strength to fight back.

In one swift motion, I snatched up a nearby ashtray and swung it squarely at his face.

The ceramic shattered on impact with a sickening crunch, shards raining down as Dr. Reynolds staggered back with a cry—clutching his now-bloodied face.

“You bitch!” he snarled through gritted teeth, his eyes glinting with rage. “You’ll pay for this!”

But I didn’t stay to find out what sick punishment he had in mind. I needed to get away—far, far away.

Without hesitating for even one more second, I whirled around and shoved my way out of the infirmary. I ran faster than I ever had before, my feet pounding and echoing through the empty hallways.