4. Dr. London

The moment I walked into her patient room and saw her I was heated. What the fuck she trying to fix? I had to take a minute and rub my eyes in disbelief. Of all the places I expected to see her again, this wasn't one of them. Her beautiful chocolate skin had invaded my dreams all night. That was huge because I'd never fantasized about a woman after such a brief encounter. She wasn't all done up like last night, but I could still recognize her. Her natural beauty was breathtaking, and it was hard for me to keep my composure.

I knew my sister Samara could tell I was off by the way she kept looking at me. She would give me shit about asking her to leave later, but I didn't want her in here for what I was about to say and do. I loved my little sister, but if I let her in on too much of my business, she became a pain in my ass. I didn't need that right now. Right now, I just wanted to know why the woman in my dreams wasn't happy with what she saw in the mirror.

"Give me a good reason why you're here trying to fix some shit that ain't broken. Your body is perfect." I could tell my bluntness caught her off guard. I wasn't speaking to her as her surgeon but as a real ass nigga.

"I don't know." Her voice was soft and meek.

"You don't know?" I repeated, confused.

She humped her shoulders in response then buried her beautiful face into her hands. I stared at her for a moment. She was mentally broken, but her body… her body was perfect. Nothing needed to be fixed on her. She certainly didn't need breast implants and a Brazilian butt lift. She had a belly pouch that fit her frame and gave her just the right amount of curve. I couldn't see anything wrong with her, and it pissed me off that she did. Better yet, it pissed me off that her bitch ass fiancé had even approved of this.

I stared at her. I didn't know why this shit was affecting me like this. I'd operated on thousands of women that didn't have anything wrong with them and didn't give a fuck. I was in the business of profiting off of people"s insecurities. This time, though, it was different and had me fighting the urge to pick her up and carry her out. This, being my place of business, was the only thing stopping me.

The uncertainty in her eyes was screaming for help, so I wrapped my arms around her. She needed a hug. I didn"t care that I was violating so many ethics codes by holding her like this, but I couldn't walk away. She needed someone, and at that moment, I didn't mind if that was me.

"As your surgeon, I don't advise you to get the procedure done unless you're one hundred percent sure why. I'm sorry, beautiful, but I can't approve you for the procedure." I was trying to be gentler and give her a more professional answer. Lifting her chin from my chest, I gazed deep into her eyes. One thing I had learned from being bread to be a Capo was how to read people. Her brown eyes locked on mine. There was so much sadness in them. Sadness I didn't think surgery would fix. Sadness that ran deeper than me denying her procedure. It made me wonder who had put it there. Who had hurt her? I wanted to know her story.

"What… no… um. I know why." She waved her hands in the air, trying to will the words out of her mouth. "I want to have more confidence in myself." Her tone was shaky. It sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than me.

"Who you trying to convince?"

Her eyes bulged, and I could see the moment she put up her defensive walls.

"I don't have to convince you. You're getting paid to operate." She snapped as she pulled herself off my chest. Her attitude was cute. She thought she was in control. She wasn't. It didn't matter what she said. When I sent Samara out of the room, I'd already decided I wasn't going to operate on her. I had the right to reject patients I didn't deem mentally stable. Ms. Iris wasn't crazy, but I could tell she wasn't getting cosmetic surgery for the right reasons.

"You do, though." I removed my gloves and moved over to the sink to wash my hands.

"What are you doing? Are you leaving?"

I nodded. I wanted to say more to her, but I rejected the urge. Everything I wanted to say was unprofessional, and the last thing I needed was a lawsuit.

"No, you don't understand… I have to get this done. I came all this way, and my wedding is in three months." The mention of her wedding had me turning to face her. A light bulb went off in my head that caused the veins in my forehead to throb. She was doing this to please her wack ass fiancé. She was a stranger. I didn't know anything about her that wasn't in my charts but knowing she felt the need to change her body to make another nigga happy had me pissed.

"Are you doing this for that nigga?" I barked, causing her to jump where she stood before her head dropped again.

"It's complicated," she mumbled.

"I'm not approving you for surgery. Your body is perfect." I walked away from her. I needed to tread lightly because she was still a patient.

"No wait, you don't understand. I have to get this surgery." She was trailing behind me. Her soft voice weakened me and had me turning around to face her. She was beautiful, and I couldn't deny my attraction to her. I would be lying if I said my attraction wasn't playing a huge part in my decision not to do her surgery because it was.

"Changing your body for that nigga won't make him love or respect you any more than he does now." It was the truth. A lot of women went under the knife to appease a man. They used surgery to try and make him stay or make him happy. I'd had dozens of them come through my office, but Monroe Iris, my chocolate dream, I couldn't allow her to make this mistake. She deserved better. She stared at me for a moment. Her eyes were on me, but I could tell she was thinking.

"I… I… he… I can't leave Miami without getting my body done. We can pay you double," she offered. There was no amount of money she could throw at me to make me concede. I shook my head.

"Get somebody else to do it. I'm not taking part in you changing your body for a nigga that cheats on you to your face." The look on her face let me know that referencing what I'd witnessed at the club last night was too much for her. I wasn't the type to sugarcoat things for people's feelings. I was blunt, but hurting Monroe's feelings made me instantly feel bad.

"This is unprofessional… and stupid. We've already paid you."

"I'll process a refund. You have my answer, Ms. Iris. This appointment is over." I'd already been here way too long and said way more than I should. Without looking back, I walked out of the room. She was a stranger. Plastic surgery wasn't my decision to make for her. It was her body, her choice. I just couldn't be the one to do it.

"What was that?" Samara's voice shook me from my thoughts as soon as I stepped in the hallway.

"Mind your business, Samara," I shot back as I pushed past her. I didn't know what to say. I didn't feel like explaining myself to my little sister.

"This is my business, Ro. I work here!" Samara snapped as she followed behind me. I knew her nosy ass wasn't going to go away. This was the first time I had sent Samara out of the room without explanation. I stared at my sister. I could have thought of a lie, but I didn't lie, not even about small shit like this.

"I wanted to speak with Ms. Iris alone. She seemed a bit uncomfortable." It was a half-truth, but it wasn't a lie. Samara stared up at me. Her narrowed eyes told me she didn't believe me.

"Unh huh, I'll let you have it 'cause I'm on lunch break, and it's not like you give us a lot of time to eat anyway." She pointed her finger at me. "This not over, brother." She trotted off down the hall toward the break room.

"It is, and you can always go work for Dad!" I shouted behind her.

"I will when you do." She shot back, flipping me the middle finger before disappearing into the break room. I could hear Rebecca laughing as I approached the front desk. She always got a kick out of me and Samara's back and forth. Everyone here respected me as their boss, but to Samara I was just her big brother. She stayed pressing my buttons, and I stayed on her nerves. It was our dynamic, and I wouldn't change anything about it—not even her working here. It made me proud that I was able to give her a chance to live a normal life free of the cartel.

If I had taken my birthplace as Capo, Samara would have been alongside me as my logistics manager, laundering money and trafficking drugs. When I became a doctor, she followed in my footsteps and went to school to be a nurse. I was setting the tone for a new family legacy, and that was my motivation.

"You two crack me up. You know that?" Rebecca giggled just as Monroe's patient room door flew open. The sound of the door crashing into the wall caused everyone to stop and look.

"Take Ms. Iris off the schedule. She didn't pass mental clearance." I informed Rebecca just as Monroe walked out of the room. Her quick steps made it obvious that she was angry. I didn't think I'd ever seen a chocolate girl flush red before, but as she neared the exit, the red hue in her skin glowed brighter. I couldn't help but stare at her. Even angry she was perfection. Her hard steps gave her fat ass just the right amount of jiggle.

"Should I make her eligible for rebooking?" Rebeca questioned, pulling my eyes away from Monroe.

"No," I confirmed just as she approached the front desk. Her eyes landed on me briskly before she rolled them and cut them away, returning her attention to Rebecca.

"Hello, um do you remember the guy who I came here with? My fiancé. He was waiting over there." She pointed to an empty seat in the waiting room.

"Yes," Rebecca replied.

"Did you see where… um or did he say where he was going? My phone died."

"Oh, yes he left a message for you. Hold on let me find it."

That nigga left her here. Anger coursed through my veins again as I listened in on her conversation. I didn't know Kashus Grant outside of what Meechie had told me about him, but from what I'd seen, he didn't give a damn about his fiancée. It made me want to shoot my shot with her even more. I watched as Monroe tapped on the table nervously while Rebecca fondled with the papers on the desk. I should have minded my business, but something pulled me toward her, beckoning me to be her savior.

"I can call you a car to the recovery house. I saw on your charts that's where you"re staying. You're welcome to stay there as long as you need," I offered. Her head lifted in my direction, and her eyes darkened.

"Fuck you!" she spat, causing me to grab my chest. If looks could kill, I would be six feet under. I didn't expect her vulgar language, but it turned me on. I liked my women with some spice. I wouldn't push it today, though. There was a lot I needed to look into before I made a move on her.

"Oop! Oh… um! Got it!" Rebecca stuttered, darting her eyes between me and Monroe. She was caught off guard. Nobody spoke to me that way except for Samara.

"It says… call Rah when you are finished."

Monroe nodded and moved away from the desk. Her body language showed defeat. Her face showed anger. She slumped over to a waiting room chair. My feet moved toward her again. Something about Monroe Iris was speaking to me, and I didn't know if I should act on it or let it be.

"Please, leave me alone!" She barked as I neared her. I wanted to tell her to shut up and let me be her savior, but that might have been too much. Instead, I turned and retreated to my office, where I watched her on the security cameras. Every tear that fell from her eyes reassured my decision. Monroe Iris needed someone with the resources to help her out of her current situation, which may very well be me. I just needed to get her away from her fiancé. Picking up my phone, I dialed Meechie. If anyone could get information on Monroe, it would be him. Meechie had Homeland Security on his payroll. It was the luxury of being head of the London Cartel.

"Sup, bro!" he answered on the third ring.

"I need someone to pull the information on Monroe Iris and her fiancé Kashus Grant!"

The phone was quiet before Meechie burst out laughing.

"One encounter, and we about to snatch a nigga bitch?" His statement came out as more of a question.

"Chill on the bitch word. She showed up in my office today."

"Word?"

"Yeah, that nigga making her get her body done." I exhaled a breath I ain't know I was holding.

"The real curvy girl we saw last night?"

"Yeah."

"And that shit bothering you because you think she"s perfect." Meechie called it correctly.

"Yeah." It was no use in denying it.

"I got Jared on it, nigga." Jared was the tech guy that Meechie used to gather information. With him looking into Monroe, I would have a file on her by tonight.

"We going to war behind a female?" He was snickering, but I knew he would have my back no matter what. Meechie had been down for many of my shenanigans since we were kids. It didn't matter how dangerous or silly they were. Meechie was gon' ride first and ask questions later.

"Yeah, man." I sighed. The phone fell quiet again.

"Well then, let me alert the shooters!" he shouted.