His Heart, My Hands: A Forbidden Enemies-to-Lovers Medical Romance

I held his heart in my hands. The real one. Under surgical lights, with his chest open and his life between my fingers.

That should have been the most intimate moment of my career. It wasn't.

Damien Thorne is the most hated man in American healthcare. His insulin pricing killed a nine-year-old girl in Ohio. And now his own heart is failing — seventeen percent ejection fraction. The kind of numbers that mean your body is writing its own ending.

My transplant program. My call.

I was supposed to evaluate him and walk away. Instead he asked about page forty-one of my rejected research paper — the section the journal wanted me to cut — and I pulled the chair closer and forgot the cardiac monitor records everything.

His heart rate when I walked in: 58. His heart rate when I sat down: 72.

He reads Dostoevsky in a hospital gown. Says a dead girl's name like he's been carrying it for years.

I know what a heart sounds like when it's failing. I know what it sounds like when it's afraid.

I don't know what it sounds like when it's yours.

His Heart, My Hands — a forbidden doctor-patient romance where the organ that keeps you alive is also the organ that gives you away.

Enemies to lovers · Morally grey billionaire · Steamy romance · 18+