Page 7 of Finding My Bodyguard

“Ms. Iris… um.” Dr. London stumbled over his words. His eyes were on me. The look in them told me he recognized me too. He cleared his throat, looking from me to the woman he’d walked in with. “This is Samara. She is the nurse practitioner here. She’ll be in the operating room tomorrow for your surgery.”

I nodded my head as he spoke.

“Nice to meet you!” Nurse Samara waved and took her place in the corner.

“I checked all your labs. Everything looked outstanding for the operation.” His voice carried a smooth, professional tone. It was still laced with grit but a stark contrast from the rugged man I had encountered at the club. The man standing before me was professional. The switch up was sexy.

“Ms. Iris!” Dr. London called, shaking me out of the trance he had me in. I should have been focused on my surgery, but his presence was clouding my judgment.

“Um, yeah… I’m sorry, can you repeat that? I zoned out.” I stumbled over my words, trying to regain my focus.

Dr. London cleared his throat. “It’s okay. It’s natural for patients to have nerves.”

I nodded. I wondered if he was as shaken up about this as I was. He pulled out two large photos of my body. One was my current body with scribbles, and the other was a photoshopped version of what I would look like after the procedure.

“I’ve looked at your digital mock-ups. Let’s look at your problem areas. Hop off the table, and let’s have a look.” He extended his hand to help me down off the table. “Lift your gown.”

I did nervously. He’d seen my naked body in pictures already, but something about being naked in front of him, bearing my imperfections, made me feel nervous, and I didn’t know why. Yes, I did. It was the magnetic pull I’d felt since he entered the room. Really, since I’d seen him at the club. I watched as he rolled over to me on his metal stool. His hand slid down my belly as he examined my body. Nurse Samara had moved closer. She was scribbling down what I assumed were notes in a notepad. Dr. London’s hands gripped my lower belly. He gazed up at me and then back down.

“Samara, can you step out for a minute?” He instructed her. Samara gave him a weird look before she eventually exited the room. Confusion registered on my face as he stood and moved close to me before he lowered my hospital gown down, covering my naked body.

“I can’t do the surgery,” he blurted.

“Hm?” I had to be hearing him incorrectly. “What do you mean?”

“I see a lot of women in this office, none as naturally beautiful as you. So, I’m confused as to why you’re here.”

His words caught me off guard, and my body stilled.

“Huh?” I’d heard him, but maybe if he repeated it, I could wrap my head around what he said.

“Give me a good reason why you’re here trying to fix something that ain’t broken. Your body is perfect.”

I couldn’t respond. My words were caught in my throat. I didn’t know if I would be if I wasn't required to be here. I loved every flaw on my body, or at least I did before Kashus made me feel bad about them. I couldn’t tell my surgeon that, though. I couldn’t tell this man that I was contracted to change my body so my fiancé would like me. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out, and I dropped my head.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled a partial truth.

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.