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Trapped by the Cold Doctor  Novel Cover

Trapped by the Cold Doctor

Kayla Matthew is a bar waitress and a sex worker with secrets too heavy for her young shoulders. Struggling to care for her terminally ill mother and brilliant teenage sister even if it means dancing on the edge of her morals every night. But life has other plans for her.  When she met Damian Cole, a billionaire, a heart surgeon, and a single Dad. A man haunted by a past he can't outrun. When his cold-hearted ex-wife refuses to attend their daughter's school event, he desperately hires Kayla to pretend to be the perfect mother. When he realizes she's the only one who can calm his daughter's panic attacks. His family was against bringing her into the mansion. But what they don't know is that it was never her plan to be a sex worker. What begins as a transaction spirals into something much deeper. But secrets and past wounds threaten to destroy the fragile bond they're building. Because love was never part of the deal and promises? But what will happen if his ex-wife does anything to get her killed? Will she escape from the danger they are plotting against her.?
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Chapter 2

She chuckled, her eyes twinkling. "I'm sure we can. Don't forget you're in the right place."

I returned her smile. "I think one of your girls will keep me busy for the night."

Her brows lifted with intrigue. "Alright then, don't worry. I'll make the arrangements. You can go to your room"

But I shook my head lightly, cutting her off.

"Actually..." I trailed off, glancing past her.

"I think I've already found the one I want to spend the night with."

She followed my gaze as I subtly nodded in the direction of the bar, where the girl was attending to a customer with soft movements and a calm presence.

"Her."

Madam Rose turned slightly, eyes narrowing toward the girl.

"Oh! You mean Kayla?"

I gave a small nod, my voice low. "I don't know her name," I admitted, watching the curve of Kayla's back as she walked away. "But I want to spend the night with her."

Madam Rose smirked, her eyes gleamingase she had just won a bet. "I think she'll be perfect," she said. "I'll handle everything."

And she did swiftly, Within a minute, everything was arranged.

I made my way to the room, with dim lighting. The faint scent of perfume clung to the upholstery. I collapsed onto one of the couches and leaned back, the soft cushions doing little to ease the weight pressing down on my chest.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and her name lit up the screen. My little girl.

I swiped to answer. "Princess," I said softly.

"Daddy! How are you? How's work? You're not home yet."

That voice. It squeezed something in me.

"EM, sweetheart," I chuckled, forcing a lightness I didn't feel, "can you let me answer one question at a time?"

She giggled.

"I'm good," I continued. Then paused. The lie formed too easily. "But... I'm sorry, princess. I won't be coming home tonight. Some work came up. So please go to bed early, okay?"

There was a short silence on the line. I hated that silence more than anything. It always meant she was disappointed but trying not to show it.

"Okay, Daddy," she said at last, her voice smaller. "I'll tell Mr. Hops you're working late."

Mr. Hops. Her stuffed bunny. I closed my eyes and sighed.

"Give him a hug for me, yeah?"

"Okay. I love you, Daddy."

"I love you more, princess."

The call ended, but the ache lingered. I stared at the ceiling for a long time, the silence in the room so loud it hurt.

And somewhere beyond the door, a woman I barely knew was getting ready to offer me the comfort I deserve.

The moment was shattered as the door creaked open behind me.

Kayla walked in.

Her presence was quiet, almost ghostlike. But everything about her demanded attention the way that silky nightgown wrapped around her like it had been poured onto her skin, the way her hair tumbled messily down her shoulders. She looked nothing like the woman who'd approached me earlier tonight with calm detachment. And yet, she looked exactly the same.

Still, I didn't speak. And neither did she.

I placed my phone gently on the side drawer as if it were made of glass, then stood. My limbs moved on their own, heavy but determined, guided by something numb and primal. Without another glance at her, I headed into the bathroom.

The sound of the shower echoed seconds later steady, hypnotic. The water burned against my skin, but I welcomed it. I needed it. I wanted it to peel away the ache in my chest, wash off the guilt that clung to me like sweat.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, my skin was still dripping, my body bare. The vodka I'd downed earlier was no longer just humming through me, it was in full control now, muffling my conscience, numbing everything that made sense.

She was still there. Sitting at the edge of the bed. Motionless. Her gaze was fixed on the floor as if it held the answers to a life she couldn't escape.

Kayla POV

I sat at the edge of the bed, my fingers knotted together in my lap, eyes fixed on the floor as it could somehow offer me answers I wasn't brave enough to ask for. The silence was thick, suffocating. My mind was a whirlwind, but I kept my face composed until he came closer.

I felt him before I saw him. The heat of his presence, the quiet urgency in his footsteps. Then, without a word, he cupped my face gently and crashed his lips into mine.

My heart stuttered.

The kiss was deep, hungry like a starved lion finally tasting its prey.

I didn't resist. My hands found his chest, then his shoulders. Clutching him as I needed him so badly. I kissed him back, matching his urgency with equal need.

Our breath tangled, as if oxygen itself had become a luxury. Until he finally pulled away, his gaze burned into mine.

"What's wrong with me?" I murmured, to myself. "It's been so long since I felt this way, since I felt a kiss like this.

My stomach twisted.

He stared at me for what felt like forever, eyes still searching mine, as though trying to read some truth I hadn't spoken aloud. And then slowly he reached for the strap of my gown and began to undress it.

I shut my eyes tightly, my breath hitching.

He cupped my face and kissed me once more.

I didn't know what it was about his kiss, but it had a way of unraveling me. It wasn't rushed, it was deep. Like he was searching for something in the way our mouths moved together.

When his tongue slid into my mouth, I didn't hesitate. I responded before I could even think, grabbing onto him, my fingers digging into his skin as if he were the only solid thing left in my life.

His lips trailed lower, down my neck, slow and tender, and I arched beneath him without meaning to. My body responded as if it knew him, like it wanted more. And when his lips finally found my breasts, and his hand moved across my skin with this unspoken gentleness, a soft gasp escaped me.

I'd been touched before too many times.

I'd been undressed, handled.

But this felt different.

There was something deeper in his touch, something that didn't feel like lust or power or entitlement. It felt like something I'd never had.

I closed my eyes, letting the sensation pull me somewhere warmer, somewhere far from the cold transactions I was used to. I trembled under him not just from need but from the terrifying realization that I didn't want this to be another job.

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