Doctor-Patient Confidentiality: New Adult Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

Chapter Seventy-Nine

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He blinks once. Twice. Something unreadable passes through the icy blue of his eyes with each movement.

"Excuse me?" Frost's tone is incredulous, and coupled with the edginess of his deep voice, he sounds borderline threatening. His brow arches higher than I've ever seen it, his forehead creasing in a way it never has before. I never thought I'd see an expression like that on his face. This is the closest thing to surprised I've ever seen him in the time I've known him. But it only lasts a few seconds before his expression turns more or less neutral again, with only subtle undertones of a scowl intertwined with his gorgeous features.

I swallow hard, my throat constricting against the large lump that's forming in it. I take another deep breath in an effort to strengthen my resolve. "I said I don't want the surgery," I repeat, more for myself than him. I know he heard me loud and clear. He obviously just didn't like hearing it, for whatever reason.

"If it means jeopardizing my singing career, then I don't want the tumor removed," I add. I really wish I sounded more sure of myself, more confident in the decision I'm making, but again, it's hard to be confident when both your options are pretty much shot to shit.

"You need to have this surgery," he insists.

"I already told you, no."

He narrows his eyes at me. "This isn't a decision you should take lightly."

My eyebrow arches incredulously, and I get pissed off all over again. "You think I'm taking this lightly?"

"I don't think you're taking it as seriously as you should," he counters. "You need to take some time to think this through—"

"I don't need any more time to think any of it through. I'm not having the surgery."

"Ramona—"

"Look, I don't want to hear any more," I shoot back. "I'm not changing my mind about this."

He clenches his jaw, and I think one of his eyes just twitched. "Ramona, the tumor is interfering with your singing as it is. It will only get worse as time goes on. You don't—"

"Just stop!" I yell, unable to take any more. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. I've made my decision and I'm not changing it. So, please just...stop." I sound almost desperate at the end, my words coming out in little above a whisper.

A long pause follows, silence encompassing the room. The atmosphere feels weird. It's no longer awkward or tense, just...strange. It's definitely a novel feeling.

After another eerily quiet stretch of eternity, he finally closes my medical folder and puts it away almost grudgingly, the deep frown still etched on his lips. I'm not entirely sure why he's even angry, but I'm glad he's agreed—albeit extremely reluctantly—to let it go. He may be the medical specialist here, and maybe his overly inflated ego took a hit because he feels I'm undermining his expertise and intelligence by refusing to go through with the surgery and whatever else he's recommended, but I really don't give two shits. When it comes down to it, this is just his job. But for me, on the other hand, this is my life. He just needs to get the fuck over it. And if he can't, then that's just too fucking bad. I can't give up my singing. I won't.

His gaze moves away from me for the first time since I got here, his icy eyes traveling under his desk for a moment. Suddenly, I hear short beeping sounds, each one with a different note coming in one after the other, as if he's pushing buttons, and my speculation is confirmed when the sharp metallic click of something unlocking follows. I realize then that it's a safe. My eyebrow arches in curiosity.