LOGINTwo years ago, Carrie Lowe was a dedicated sports doctor whose life was ruined in a single night. After discovering her husband was cheating, she impulsively kissed the famous athlete and billionaire Jake Slater at a club to get back at him. Instead of being a gentleman, Jake went on national television and branded her a "desperate groupie" who was an embarrassment to her profession. This public shaming caused Carrie to lose her job and her reputation, forcing her to flee to Europe to rebuild her life under a new name and a cold, professional mask. Now, Carrie has returned to Los Angeles as Dr. Carrie Vance, an elite specialist that every top athlete is dying to work with. Meanwhile, Jake is facing a career-ending injury and a group of greedy investors trying to steal his sports agency. When he comes to her clinic for help, he has no idea that the brilliant doctor in front of him is the same woman he once humiliated. Desperate to prove to his board members that he is stable and in control, Jake offers Carrie five million dollars to pretend to be his devoted partner for a year. Carrie takes the deal, but her true goal isn't the money; it's the chance to get close enough to watch Jake lose everything. By stepping into his world as his private doctor, she gains total power over his recovery and his public image. However, as they navigate high-stakes galas and intense private sessions, the fake relationship starts to feel dangerously real. Carrie must eventually decide if she will follow through with her plan to destroy the man who crushed her, or if the growing spark between them is worth risking her heart all over again.
View MoreDr Carrie VanceThe silence in the boardroom was absolute, broken only by the faint hum of the air conditioning and the distant, muffled sounds of Los Angeles traffic twenty stories below.I stared at the thick black line at the bottom of page forty-two. The Morals and Reputation Clause. It was a loaded gun pointed directly at my head, and Arthur Sterling was simply waiting for me to pull the trigger.I looked at the heavy, flawless diamond resting on my left hand. I thought about the conversation I had overheard outside the restaurant wine cellar—the cold, calculating way Jake had called me a prop, a temporary fix to secure his stock before he cut me loose.If I panicked now, I was nothing but the victim he expected me to be.I picked up the heavy, gold-plated pen. I twirled it slowly between my fingers, letting the metal catch the harsh overhead light, and then set it back down on the mahogany table with a sharp, definitive clack."I’ll sign it," I said, my voice completely devoid o
Dr. Carrie Vance"Put those away. I said I wanted to see the vault trays, not the display case."Jake’s voice was a low, impatient crack of a whip in the dead silence of the VIP room.We were sitting in a private, locked-door suite at the most exclusive jeweler in Beverly Hills. The manager, a sweating man in a pristine three-piece suit, hastily closed the velvet box containing a very tasteful, two-carat princess-cut diamond."Of course, Mr. Slater," the manager stammered, tapping a code into a discreet panel on the wall. "I just assumed you were looking for something... understated.""I don't do understated," Jake said, leaning back in the plush leather chair. He didn't look at the manager. He looked at me. "I’m not buying a romantic token. I’m buying a warning sign."The heavy steel doors of the wall safe hissed open. The manager returned carrying a single, black velvet tray holding only three rings. The overhead spotlights caught the facets of the stones, throwing blinding fracture
Dr. Carrie VanceThe silence in the SUV was an explosive, ticking thing.Jake stared at my hands. His gaze was locked on the repetitive, nervous circle my thumb was drawing over my opposite wrist. I watched the gears turn behind his blue eyes. I saw the exact moment the memory hit him—the flash of rain, the flash of an emerald dress, the ghost of a girl he had broken two years ago.His breath stopped. The anger from the parking lot evaporated, replaced by a sudden, terrifying clarity."Wait," Jake whispered, his voice hoarse. He leaned forward, his eyes snapping from my wrist to my face. "Two years ago. The Diamond—"He knows. The realization was a cold plunge into an icy lake. If he finished that sentence, the revenge was over. My career was over. I had to kill the thought before it could take root."Don't," I snapped, dropping my hands into my lap with a violent flinch.Jake blinked, the momentum of his realization jarring to a halt. "What?""Mark," I breathed, forcing my voice to t
Dr. Carrie VanceThe first thing I registered was the heat.It wasn't the scorching, terrifying heat of a 103-degree fever. It was a deep, steady, grounding warmth radiating into my back.I opened my eyes. The morning sun was bleeding through the gaps in the heavy blackout curtains of the master suite, painting a sliver of gold across the black silk sheets. I was lying perfectly still, trapped.Jake’s massive arm was wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me flush against his bare chest. My back was pressed to his torso, my legs tangled with his uninjured left leg. I could feel the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing.Panic spiked in my chest. I tried to slide forward, millimeter by millimeter, hoping to slip out from under his grip before he woke up.His arm instantly flexed, locking me in place."Don't move," he murmured. His voice was rough, thick with sleep, vibrating directly against my spine.I froze. "Jake. Let me go.""Why?" he breathed. I felt his face shift against
CarrieHis hands were a fever.I could feel the heat of them through the thin cotton of my scrubs, his fingers dragging a slow, heavy line from my waist to the small of my back. The scent of the sandalwood oil was suffocating, thick and sweet in the dim light of the room. In that moment, Jake wasn'
Dr. Carrie VanceThe interior of Jake’s matte-black SUV was a tomb of high-end leather and cold technology. The engine purred with a low-frequency hum that I could feel in the soles of my feet as I navigated the winding, darkened streets of the Hollywood Hills.Jake was a silent weight in the passe
Dr. Carrie VanceThe clinic was silent—the kind of heavy, pressurized quiet that only exists in buildings designed to keep the world out. It was 8:00 PM. The staff had gone home, and my luxurious office space was enveloped in pin drop silence. I should have been home. I should have been sipping a
Dr. Carrie VanceThe air in the Vance Sports Performance & Recovery Clinic didn't smell of medicine like your average hospital. There was no scent of industrial bleach or the stale, metallic tang of sickness. Instead, it smelled of lavender and top Italian leather. And the best part of it, it all
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