His Games, Her Rules

“Robyn, working many shifts and trying to avoid the real world is not going to get you laid. You need to get out and have fun and since today is my birthday, you don’t have any excuse.” My best friend and roommate, Monique, rants on the phone as I listen to her chirpy voice through the earbuds in my ears.

I want to argue with her and point out for the millionth time that I’m okay the way I am and that I don’t need a man, but instead, I clamp my mouth shut. There is no point. Because I’m going to go home and Monique will be there to remind me how I’m not getting laid enough.

So instead, I do what’s best for my brain right now, which means not arguing with her as I fill out my report. “Sure thing, Mom. I hear you.”

“Are you being sarcastic again?” Monique asks. I can picture her smirking with her forefinger in between her lips, biting the nail.

“Something like that.” I chuckle. “Look, I gotta go. I have got work to do and right now you’re not being helpful.”

“Robyn—“

I smile. “Yeah, got you. I need to get out and get laid. We’re gonna talk later.” I hang up immediately, taking in deep breaths as I shut my eyes for a second.

Fuck, y’all let me be for a second.

As I fill out my report, with Katy Perry Roar blasting from my earbuds, I hum the lyrics of the song. A pale hand appears in my vision, knocking on the desk, as I raise my head at once, locking eyes with a pair of green eyes.

“Fuck, you surprised the shit out of me,” I say to this stranger as I pull out one earbud and pause the song.

He stands upright, a small smile on his lips as he watches me. “You’ve got a potty mouth, huh?”

“Um, who are you?” I ask, briefly giving him a once-over.

The stranger in front of me is tall, with short blonde hair, broad shoulders, good looking, and from the lab coat he’s wearing, I think he’s a doctor. And damn, he’s fine. Like really fine. If I was into a workplace affair, this man in front of me would have been a good lay.

But who cares, right?

"I'm Doctor Sanders." He says, briefly giving me a once over as he slips his hands into his lab coat pockets.

Doctor? Interesting.

"Oh. I'm Robyn. Robyn Denver. I’m a practical nurse here."

"Yeah, I know you. I called your name like three times while I watched you hum loudly." He says as he stares at me.

“I’m sorry. I had earbuds on.”

"You're pretty popular around here.”

“Is that so?”

"Sort of," he says and exhales. "Well, I'll be taking over from Doctor Ricci, so you'll be working with me from now henceforth."

"What happened to Doctor Ricci?"

"Oh, he got transferred. I'm in charge now."

"And he's left?"

"Are you two dating?" Dr. Sanders asks, his gaze scrutinizing. I try not to roll my eyes.

Over my dead body will I date that dog. Also, relationships are the last thing I want right now.

"No! What?" I scoff and drop the pen on the desk. "Do you need assistance?"

"Yes, I do. I need you to take a patient's blood sample for me and please be careful when you do that. Doctor Ricci told me about your work here.”

“Did he?” I ask and stand up, as Doctor Sanders and I walk out of the nurses’ station together.

“Not very good stuff, if I may say.”

Of course. Why am I not surprised?

I've always rooted for Doctor Ricci. He was my favorite Doctor in this hospital for a while until he fucked things up. He was pretty hot, and I knew for a fact he was a man slut, but he was great. He was good-looking and attractive, almost all the female nurses and a few doctors found him insanely attractive. He was cherished by everyone, including the president of this hospital. But behind the charisma and the stance lies an arrogant pervert.

“And after the blood sample, prep yourself, you’re joining me in surgery.” Doctor Sanders says. And with a small smile, he disappears into a corner.

Fuck my life.

The patient’s blood sample I’m supposed to take is a man in his mid-twenties. After taking his blood sample, I drop it off at the lab and prepare myself for surgery with the new Doctor.

As I watch him work, I continue to hum Katy Perry’s Roar under my breath. It’s like a stress-free song for me. Whenever I’m under a lot of pressure from work, this is my go-to song partially because it reminds me of who I used to be before I moved to New York. This song is a motivation, actually.

Doctor Sanders isn't all that bad. He's like Doctor Ricci, the difference is that Doctor Sanders doesn't flirt like Ricci. Which is nice. When Doctor Ricci still worked here, he would constantly flirt with the nurses and residents, and oftentimes he would touch them inappropriately. I fucking despised him. The only good quality about him is that he was a good doctor. A surgeon, actually, and everyone adored him to the point they turned a blind eye to every one of his filthy habits.

In the few hours I've worked with Doctor Sanders today, he is always quiet. We’ve barely had any discussion or conversation and I liked that for a change. Doctor Ricci was arrogant and he talked a lot to the point he always talked out of point.

"Robyn, can you stop?" Doctor Sanders asks, the mask he’s wearing muffled his words a little.

"What?"

"Can you please stop humming to that song and tapping your feet on the floor like an old person? That’s not attractive at all." Okay, who cares?

"I hum to Roar when I'm stressed," I say.

Doctor Sanders sighs as he fights the urge to rub his temple. That's exactly what I've been doing this past hour, annoying the shit out of Doctor Sanders. I'm sure he's thinking about resigning already.

"Are you okay?" I ask, with mockery in my tone as I smirk at him.

"Please, stop humming. I can't concentrate on that loud annoying humming. It's like the whistling of a kettle." He says, with his very evident Scottish accent.

I roll my eyes.

"Sure thing, Sandals," I mutter, purposefully calling him sandals.

"Sanders." He corrects my wrong pronunciation of his name. "It's Doctor Sanders for you. Not Sanders or Sandals."

"Okay. Doctor Sandals." I say with a sly smirk. I'm never calling him Doctor Sanders anytime soon.

Doctor Sanders groans as he shakes his head and goes back to work. He's quitting tomorrow. I can tell already.

"Do you have a boyfriend, Robyn?" Doctor Sanders asks me after a long silence.

I sigh and bite the inside of my cheeks.

"No. Why?"

"Nothing. I'm just wondering how anyone can keep up with your loud humming. I've only known you for a few hours and I feel like quitting medicine entirely."

"What?" I chuckle. I shake my head and roll my eyes.

"I'm a fun person. I just try to stay positive and it seems it annoys a lot of people." I say, briefly glancing at the resident doctor standing next to me.

"Yeah. A lot of the nurses here don't like you. They think you pretend to be optimistic. You know, see the good in every bad situation." Doctor Sanders says and I roll my eyes. "And also, you're probably the most beautiful nurse in this hospital, so I think they’re just jealous.” Oh damn.

It’s a line he’s probably used before on different women and sadly it’s not going to work on me if that’s what he’s hoping for.

I don’t care much about flirty words from men and I don’t let it affect my sense of thinking. Men would say anything to get into a woman’s pants.

"Don't flatter yourself, Ms Denver. I'm not flirting with you. I am a professional man and I like to leave it that way." Huh-huh.

"Yeah, whatever," I mutter as I get back to my work, passing instruments to the doctor.

In my peripheral vision, I see Doctor Sanders staring at me for a brief moment.

"I feel like we'll be good friends. You might even turn out to be my favorite nurse. So far you're not bad. Except for your annoying humming." he says as he gives me a small smile.

"Thank you, Doctor Sandals." I grin at him.

He groans loudly and says, "I take everything I said back." I roll my eyes and chuckle.

I've always loved my profession as a nurse because I've always loved helping people. I might not be a registered nurse yet, but I love my job. I love to assist these patients and take care of them when they feel like they are not going to make it out alive.

Being born into a family with money can be profitable but in my case, it was suffocating to the point I couldn’t breathe anymore. I have endured my parents' control and abuse for years until the day I decided I had to leave.

I went to high school in the UK after spending a few years in Italy and graduated from Middle School. I graduated from Stanford University with a business degree, one of the best schools in the United States. Throughout my years at Stanford, I was tempted to quit, to run away. But I knew better than anyone to try and do something like that. But during my sophomore year, I knew I had to try and get away. I didn’t know how, but I had to start from somewhere. I had to make plans so that I didn’t leave any trail behind for my family to follow.

Before I moved to New York, I lived in Italy with my family. Everything about my life and that of my siblings was planned by my parents. I came from a family with a long line of wealth. My parents are billionaires, with the police and the entire state in their pockets. They control everything just like they control the lives of my siblings and me. I couldn’t get out, I just knew it even though I hadn't tried it then. We were puppets to my parents and they were the ones pulling the strings. Whatever we were told to do by my parents, is what we do. And that includes our education, the things we wear, what we eat, and our relationships.

My father wanted us to be in the family business and he made sure of it. I was his assistant, handling everything that concerned the family business.

The day I left Italy was four years ago. I’d been living in a shell and I couldn’t breathe anymore. I had made up my mind that I wouldn’t let my parents have power over me. I had to get out, far away to a place they could never find me. I had to leave the abuse, the hate, the control, and every negative thing that attached itself to my family. I had had enough. I didn’t have control over anything anymore. My life was being controlled for me and I wanted to leave. To go someplace to start afresh, with my past and my secrets locked far away.

And I did just that. I entered my car one Sunday morning with nothing but my handbag and a bag full of cash as I drove out of the city without taking a second glance at the place I've always called home. I threw away my phone, my credit cards, and my identity card the minute I drove out of my family’s estate and I never looked back.

The minute I stepped foot in New York City, I told myself I would be better. That I had escaped hell and I was going to live my best life. Freedom. I had just taken a bold step and there was no going back. I'm stronger now and independent.

It didn't take me a week to get an apartment and get into nursing school. My roommate, Monique, is my best friend. She's the best thing that has happened to me in a long time and till today I'm happy I met her in New York. She doesn't know who I am or the family I'm from. I made sure of that. I wanted to start afresh and I didn't need anything that would remind me of my past, especially since I was in hiding.

Today's Monique's birthday and I'm supposed to pick up her cake from her favorite bakery after my shift at the hospital. I quickly changed out of my scrubs and got dressed in a casual outfit. Cream-colored sweater, black jeans, and white sneakers. I tie my hair up in a loose ponytail as I grab my handbag and rush out of the hospital, not before waving to Tiwa, she's my friend too, and a nurse, goodbye.

I slip inside my car and drive out of the parking lot. I drive straight to the bakery and pick up Monique's cake. I pay the bakery owner and hurry out of her bakery with Monique's cake. My last stop is the mall. I need to pick up Monique's birthday present that I'm supposed to give to her once I get home.

I get out of my car with my handbag as I walk inside the mall. I walk toward the jewelry store. The salesgirl greets me as I pick up the customized, diamond necklace I planned on gifting Monique. She saw it online and she liked it and always wanted to get it for herself. But Monique couldn't afford it because it was kind of expensive, (her words), and also, according to Monique, there are better things to do with money. I pay for it, collect the receipt, and leave the mall.

I unlock my car and slip inside as I toss my handbag on the passenger's seat. I place Monique’s birthday present close to her cake as I start the engine and try to back out of my parking spot. The loud bang behind me and the alarm of a car make me step on the break at once.

Oh, shit, did I hit something?

"Oh, God. What have you done, Robyn?"

I step on the gas pedal to quickly escape out of here before the owner of the car sees me and maybe something bad might happen after, but instead, I hit the car from behind again. I look down, frowning at my feet on the clutch pedal.

"Fuck." I curse, shaking my head.

How the hell did I pass my driving lessons? Oh, right. I didn’t. My father didn’t take any of his children to driving school. He just bought us cars and told us to “figure shit out”.

I groan and look up at the rearview mirror as someone steps out of the backseat of a car.

Fuck me. Please, not the Royce, not the freakin’ Rolls Royce.

It’s the freakin’ Rolls Royce. It’s a black Rolls Royce. The new model. The expensive model. Compared to my 2010 Toyota Camry, I just hit an expensive and luxurious car that obviously belongs to someone rich.

When I left Italy, I didn’t drive straight to New York. I sold my Ferrari halfway, took a train, a bus, and another train, just to make sure I wasn’t being followed. Then I got a new car in New York. A car that doesn’t scream class, but also doesn’t scream “I’m broke as fuck.” It wasn’t all that cheap, but also it wasn’t a luxurious car. And I made a promise to myself to avoid trouble and this happened to be one of them.

The first thing I see before the person steps out of the car is the expensive dress shoes. It's a man. A very tall man, I can tell by his long legs. He shuts the car door and buttons his suit jacket while glaring at me through my side mirror.

"Oh, shit." I sink into my car seat with my hands on the steering wheel, gripping onto it for dear life.

The man stops outside my driver's window as he glares at me. Like, damn, how is he this handsome?

I try to hide how perplexed I am at how attractive this man is as I stare at him through the driver’s window. He’s tall, with golden skin, and his hair is a shade of dark brown that’s perfectly styled and slicked back. His face is that of a model, without blemishes, and his nose, how the hell is it that straight? His lips are a dark shade of red and his eyes are the most beautiful pair of blue I’ve ever seen. I almost got lost in his ocean-blue eyes.

I gulp.

He knocks on my window calmly as he glares at me, with his dark brooding stare.

"Roll down the window, will you?" I read his lips. I stare at him and slowly shake my head no.

I don't know this man or who he is, but I know one thing for sure; he's powerful and rich. I can literally smell the dominance and wealth from where I’m sitting in my car. He's intimidating, the kind of people I don't want to get involved with because they remind me of home. Of my family in Italy.

He looks like he's in haste as he knocks on my window again. Harder this time.

"Roll down the fucking window, will you?" I read his lips again. His eyebrows are knitted and he looks like he wants to break my car window and pull me out.

Okay. Time to get out of here, Robyn.

I step on my accelerator as I speedily drive out of the parking lot. Far away from that hot stranger.