All Chapters of My Boyfriend’s Dad Is My Gynecologist : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

BethI groaned, dragging the word out dramatically as he handed me the brown package tied in black satin ribbon. “Ugh. I was really hoping you’d forget.”Stacy’s mouth curved in that slow, wicked smirk that always meant trouble. “I went through way too much trouble to win this bet. I was not forgetting.”“I don’t know,” I said, tipping my head and squinting at him. “I thought maybe—just maybe—there was a chance your memory wasn’t that great, old man.”His eyes gleamed. Dangerous. Dark. “Oh, I’ll show you what this ‘old man’ is capable of… if you’d like.”My face flushed immediately. “Nope, nope, I’m good. Just joking. You don’t need to show me anything.”He chuckled low under his breath, and I snatched the package out of his hands before I could humiliate myself further. Grabbing my tote bag from the floor—my “just in case” arsenal packed with Rachel’s backup outfit and a pair of tight black yoga shorts—I turned toward the hallway.“I’m gonna go change,” I mumbled.“Guest room’s yours

StacyThe second she opened the guest room door, I knew I was screwed.Not because the outfit was too revealing—although, Jesus, it was dangerously short. No, it was the way she wore it. All blush and bravado. Like she knew damn well it was ridiculous and hated every second of it—but still came out.For me.And that? That was the problem.She looked like a walking contradiction. Messy ponytail, bare legs, lace apron. A girl playing at being a woman, and somehow doing a damn good job of both.She mumbled something about it being “your win,” like she was trying to pass the blame, and I let her. What the hell else was I going to do? Call it off? Tell her to change? Pretend I didn’t want to grab her by the waist and bend her over the damn counter?Nope. Instead, I sat at the bar like a civilized man and watched her cook. Watched her try to cook.She kept glancing back at me like I might judge her for using her phone, like I didn’t know she’d googled how to sear chicken and roast potatoes.

StacyI came back from lunch later than I meant to.Traffic. A consult that ran long. My mind only half on the clinic and half somewhere else entirely—on Beth, on the way her laugh stuck in my head, on the way she’d looked in my doorway Saturday morning before she left.I stopped at the front desk. “I’m expecting—”Michelle didn’t even look up from her monitor. “She’s already in your office.”My pulse kicked.“Thank you,” I said, already moving.The hallway felt too quiet. My door was shut when I reached it. That alone was strange. I pushed inside.The lights were dim. My desk lamp was on. And sitting directly in the center of my desk was a black silk eye mask… and a folded note.Lock the door.Put the mask on.Sit down.I’ll be out in a moment.No signature.My breath went slow. Careful. My mind filled in the name before I even let myself think it.Beth… what are you doing?I locked the door.The click sounded louder than it should have.The mask was cool in my hands. Silk. Expensive

BethThe shoot wrapped just after six, and we all gathered in the break room like it was a wrap party for a low-budget indie film. Adam was already stealing snacks from the front desk drawer, Rachel was setting up a group selfie, and Stacy had retreated to his office—probably to process whatever the hell had just happened between us.Because… yeah. That whisper in my ear?Still echoing.And I still didn’t know if I wanted to run from it—or run straight into it.Rachel nudged me with her elbow as I wiped down the camera lenses. “Hey. Let’s go to Masquerade tonight.”I blinked. “What?”“You heard me. Club night. Girls, guys, masks, secrets. Let’s gooo.”Adam looked up from the candy jar. “What’s Masquerade?”Rachel grinned wickedly. “Only the hottest underground club in the city. Masked entry only. Total anonymity. You can dance with a stranger and never know their name.”He raised a brow. “That sounds dangerous.”“Deliciously dangerous,” she corrected. “Beth got real frisky with a guy

StacyI was halfway through my second coffee and halfway through pretending I gave a damn about the clinic’s onboarding survey system when Adam strolled in, smug and smugger.“Yo,” he said, plopping into the chair across from my desk like it was his own. “We went out last night.”I didn’t look up. “And?”“To this place called Masquerade.” He whistled low. “Beth looked fine as hell. You should’ve seen her. Lace. Legs. Confidence through the roof.”I stilled.Then turned my gaze up slowly, deliberately. “Masquerade, huh?”“Yeah, she said she’s been before.” He grinned. “Some rabbit-masked guy danced with her all night. Pretty sure she soaked through her panties at least once.”I set my mug down.Loudly.“That rabbit?” I said quietly. “Was me.”His face blanked. “What?”I leaned forward, voice razor sharp. “And if you ever touch her again like you did before I walked up, I’ll break your fucking fingers.”His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.“No—wait, hold up.” He pointed at m