The Billionaire's Redemption Love

Chapter 1

Emma

The chaos in the emergency room is deafening, a constant hum of beeping monitors, sharp commands, and frantic footsteps. I weave between patients and staff, my heart racing as I push a gurney toward trauma room three.

“Emma! Over here!” Dr. Patel’s voice slices through the noise like a scalpel.

I turn sharply and nearly crash into Lori, who’s juggling a clipboard and an IV bag. “Sorry! Didn’t see you there.”

“You mean you didn’t see my award-winning multitasking skills?” Lori quips, raising an eyebrow.

“No time for jokes,” I snap, pointing toward the approaching gurney. “What’s the story?”

“Thirty-two-year-old male. Blunt force trauma. Some kind of nightclub fight,” she replies, glancing at her notes. “Lacerations, probable concussion, potential broken ribs.”

“Great.” I sigh and lean over the patient. Blood seeps through the bandages hastily wrapped around his torso. His face is pale, but beneath the bruises and swelling, he’s infuriatingly handsome. Of course, he would be.

His eyelids flutter open, and the first thing out of his mouth is a slurred, “Hey there, angel.”

I grit my teeth. “Fantastic. We’ve got a charmer.”

Lori snorts as she adjusts the IV line. “Oh, he’s going to be fun.”

“Name?” I ask, ignoring her.

“Ethan,” he murmurs, his voice raspy. “Ethan Kane.”

I freeze for half a second. The name rings a bell. Billionaire nightclub owner. Tabloid fixture. As if my shift couldn’t get worse.

“Well, Ethan Kane,” I say, yanking my stethoscope off my neck, “it looks like you picked the wrong night to be a billionaire.”

He groans, his head rolling slightly toward me. “I don’t know. This might be the best night of my life.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely concussed,” I mutter, ignoring his attempt at humor. “Dr. Patel, vitals are stable, but he needs imaging, stat.”

Ethan’s hand brushes weakly against my wrist. “Wait... am I dying?”

“Not if you keep quiet and let us work,” I reply curtly.

“You’re bossy,” he mumbles, his lips quirking into a faint smirk.

“And you’re bleeding,” I snap. “Let me do my job.”

Dr. Patel steps in, snapping on gloves. “CT and chest X-ray. Let’s move.”

“Got it,” I say, signaling Lori. “Page radiology.”

Ethan chuckles softly, then winces. “So, Nurse Bossy, do I at least get a smile for being your most interesting patient?”

I roll my eyes. “Not even close.”

Lori leans closer, smirking. “I think he likes you.”

“I think he likes being annoying,” I mutter, pushing the gurney down the hall.

Ethan’s voice floats up again. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

“Not until you stop bleeding all over my ER,” I shoot back.

As we roll him into the imaging suite, his energy seems to wane, but his smirk never quite disappears. “You’re tough. I like that.”

“And you’re persistent. I don’t like that,” I reply, parking the gurney. “Lori, he’s all yours.”

“Don’t leave me,” Ethan groans dramatically, trying to catch my eye. “She’s scarier than you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Lori says with a wicked grin, steering him toward the imaging room.

I step back, exhaling sharply. The shift just started, and I’m already in over my head. Nyla appears beside me, holding a clipboard.

“What’s got you so rattled?” she asks, following my gaze toward the imaging suite.

“Ethan Kane,” I reply, rubbing my temples. “The nightclub guy. He’s in my ER, bleeding on my floor, and hitting on me like it’s part of his recovery plan.”

Nyla raises an eyebrow. “Wait. The Ethan Kane? Billionaire, tabloid favorite, owns half the clubs in Manhattan?”

“The very same.”

“And he’s hitting on you?” Nyla smirks. “Lucky girl.”

I glare at her. “Not even remotely. Lori’s with him now, probably collecting restraining order material.”

Nyla laughs. “You should cut him some slack. Maybe he’s just grateful you’re saving his life.”

“Or maybe he thinks the world revolves around him because it usually does,” I reply, crossing my arms. “Either way, he’s not my problem anymore. Lori can have him.”

“You’re impossible,” Nyla says, shaking her head. “But this shift? Very much your problem. Trauma room two is waiting.”

“Lucky me,” I mutter, grabbing a fresh pair of gloves. “Keep an eye on Mr. Billionaire, would you? I’ve got real patients to handle.”

Nyla just grins as I head back into the fray, leaving Ethan Kane and his smug smirk firmly in the rearview—at least for now.