Chapter One

Elena Ramirez sat on the hospital bed clutching the loose gown over her chest, wishing they would turn up the heat. She glared up at the meshed part of the ceiling where the assaulting cold air was coming from. Why did doctors always insist on having the air conditioner on, especially when they ask patients to strip down to their skivvies?

She looked around the small room and paused on the wall clock like she had done a hundred times before and wondered if she was being impatient or if it was the doctor who was late. The appointment was for eleven o’ clock. It was eleven-o-three. For etiquette sake he was late, but by human standards, he still had two minutes to be on time.

She pulled her eyes away from the mocking three sticks of time and tried to find something else to occupy her mind as she waited. She’d counted the tiles on the floor, walls and ceiling as she struggled to breathe through the anxiety. They were exactly one hundred and twelve—those that she could see—12” by 12” gg shell textured tiles. Something she would pick for her bathrooms, not an office.

Stop it! She bit the left corner of her inner lip hard as punishment.

 She had been here before, six times to be exact, and she did this every time. Snub the man’s office because she was anxious about what was going to happen. Why? She had no idea but it always, just a little bit, made her feel better about herself. Like she wasn’t the only one who needed fixing.

But this time she was anxious about what was not going to happen. So it was probably best if she complimented the space. Send out good vibes and whatnot.

Doctor Gonzales simply could not say no to her. She needed this, if she was to save her marriage, she needed him to say yes. She had a feeling he would. The last time—fifth time she had been there he had been reluctant to do the procedure on her. He found it stupid for a Latina to alter her eyes to look more exotic. His exact expression. And despite the arguing and all the crying she did to get the procedure done, Fernando had given her a passing ‘meh’ when she’d proudly shown him how diligently she’d granted his wish.

But maybe it was because he could see what she sometimes saw when she looked in the mirror. Nothing. She had a sneaking suspicion that Doctor Gonzales had done absolutely nothing to alter her eyes. She had been amazed at the record time she’d recovered that time around and, besides a little puffiness and redness, she hadn’t been able to find a surgical cut anywhere around her eyes.

He was one of the best but… not even a tiny drop of blood?

But this wasn’t the only reluctant surgery he had performed.

She stood up and walked to the long mirror. It was the first thing she saw during her first visit to this office. It judged her, it mocked her for all her flaws and imperfections, but not as harshly as Fernando—her husband—did.

Who needs a mirror if there was someone all too ready and willing to pick out your flaws?

Elena stepped in front of it and stared at herself. She could recognize the face that stared back at her, nothing major had changed about it. But the eyes, she didn’t recognize them, they weren’t her eyes. Well yes, they were hers. She saw them every morning in the mirror, but there was something different about them. Most definitely not the surgery. They were sadder, hollower and emptier. They’ve been so for the past six years.

Elena blinked back the tears and swallowed the tight lump in her throat. She stood up straighter and held her head high, ashamed that she had let herself think she was never happy in her marriage. Fernando did this for her own good. He picked out her flaws so she could fix them. She knew just how much fixing she needed. High school, college her disastrous time there was all too much of a reminder of how much fixing she needed. At least he wasn’t taunting her to be cruel, but to make her aware of all her flaws. She should be grateful.

I am grateful. But…

She stroked her chin with the tips of her fingers and smiled at the distant memories. She used to be perfect. He used to love every part of her body. He said she was perfect. Then… then she suddenly wasn’t anymore. She had been happy, once upon a time, before she got married, before she spoke those vows. Vows that she had kept. Vows that Fernando had made meaningless.

She dropped her hand to her hips and scolded herself again.

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world, I have everything! Millions of women would kill to be in my shoes!” she recited firmly.

When only her father could stand the sight of her, when she was awkward, fat, ugly and couldn’t see past her nose, he’d treated her like a person. She’d been teased all through high school and right into college. No one wanted to be friends with her, that is, until they found out who her father was. But even then, they still excluded her, talked behind her back, and played cruel jokes on her until her father was forced to step in.

She never had true friends. Never had someone who truly cared about her and not who her father was. Fernando was the only one who had. He was the only one who said she was beautiful. He loved her. He helped her become beautiful in other people’s eyes. Perfect.

No. That isn’t true. She wasn’t perfect just yet.

 She dropped the gown and stood naked in front of the mirror and examined herself for more flaws.

Her thighs were a bit too thick and lumpy. She was going to bring that up during the appointment.

Her ass wasn’t as round as it used to be. She was going to need a lift.

She was growing a tire around her belly area. The agenda for the day and the reason why she was there. She definitely needed liposuction.

Her boobs danced around too much. She’ll need a bit of tightening. Of course, no reduction. Fernando loved how big they were. The one thing she was proud of because it was all hers, no matter how much her back ached.

She ran her hand under her chin and over her neck. She was getting a bit too fleshy there.

She leaned closer to the mirror and gasped. Her skin… she was going to have to up her three times a week appointment at the dermatologist to five.

She made a mistake not wearing makeup, but that was a requirement for all of Doctor Gonzales’ appointments. She felt so naked without even a little bit of lipstick. She trapped her cheeks between the knuckles of her index and middle fingers and pinched hard for some blush.

“You have the most perfect body I’ve ever seen,” Doctor Gonzales’s quiet voice filled the silent room.

Startled, Elena dropped her hands from her cheeks and quickly reached down to pull her robe on. She suddenly stopped, the robe at her waist, and, for a moment, contemplated his words. No one had ever said that to her, and it felt so foreign and unjustified. She didn’t deserve those words, not yet anyway.

 With a little borrowed courage, she met his gaze through the mirror. “You are just saying that Doctor Gonzales,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, wanting to believe but too scared to let herself.

He walked to the bed and sat down, his brown eyes that she’d always found gentle, especially when he looked at her, stayed fixed on her face. They didn’t roam lower to her exposed breasts.

Why? She asked herself and, in the distance, she could hear her insecurities begin to whisper. The voices were too similar to Fernando’s. It was fitting, him being her biggest critic. It could be he was just a gentleman but that had been her last thought. ‘Maybe he thinks they are too big and ugly,’ was her first.

 “Why would I lie to you?” he asked, his lips stretching slightly in a sweet smile.

A lying smile? A truthful smile?

The mocking in her head got louder.

Elena brought the gown up and held it under her chin, “Why do men lie?”

She faked a cheer in her voice as she held back more tears. Trying to act like his words didn’t mean anything to her. She hated it when that happened—when she had to hide her emotions behind foreign emotions.

She was sure he was lying, but a small part of her hoped he wasn’t. That broke her heart. How starved was she of compliments? She couldn’t remember the last time Fernando had given her one.

“I’m a plastic surgeon… and a man.”

The stress in his voice when he said ‘man’ made goosebumps creep up her bare arms. She hadn’t felt something like that since… well since a very long time, to the point she wasn’t sure what it meant.

He pointed towards his desk where several framed documents hung on the wall over it. “Don’t let the degrees and the white coat fool you. My hormones still operate like a teenage boy’s, so yes, I do know what I’m talking about.”

Elena wanted it to be true so bad. She wanted to believe him, but he wasn’t the judge in this particular exhibition, Fernando was and yet....

She turned around to face him and dropped the gown. She let her long jet black hair loose across her left shoulder and did a complete 360, very slowly so that he could see every inch of her body. She held her hair up to show off her neck and back then dropped it on her back to show off her shoulders and breasts.

She stopped and faced him after what felt like the longest thirty seconds of her life. She was scared of asking, in case she didn’t like the answer. But as he said, he was a man with a teenager’s hormones, she needed his perspective.

But could she handle hearing the truth?

She was about to be a teary mess!

“So,” she started, a quiver in her voice, “what is your honest opinion?” She paused before she added quickly with humor to hide her real feelings, “As a man with a teenage boy’s raging hormones.”

Doctor Gonzales looked at her, his gaze ever so gentle, like he was staring at the most fragile flower on earth. “You are beautiful,” he stood up and moved to her.

Each step, though soundless, echoed in her chest. She began to shiver, and not from the cold, as he drew closer. Jittery, she held her breath when he came to a stop in front of her.

He placed his finger under her chin, “You were always beautiful.”

His voice, soft and gentle, washed over her like a gentle breeze, calming her jittery self. With his index finger, he pushed up at her chin and her head willingly tilted back as far as he wanted it. He stared into her eyes, and they locked into his.

 “Your hair is stunning,” he lifted his other hand and brushed the hair off her forehead with the tip of his fingers and then ran them through the heavy mass right to the tip. “When you let your hair down it cradles your face in the most perfect way, like a frame to a portrait.” He traced his fingers down her face and ran them along her lips making her catch her breath, “Your full lips are perfect rosy red. Enticing and so very provocative, taunting a kiss.”

Elena stared at him, shocked and confused. She’d never heard those words in reference to her before. At least not in the way he said them. He sounded so sincere, and the words as they came out of his mouth were so dangerously assuring.

She couldn’t hear that voice anymore. Her insecurities were on mute.

He slid his hand down to her neck, his fingers tracing her skin in a touch that felt intimate. His other hand holding her chin up to ensure their eyes stayed locked, “Your neck is like a swan’s neck, and it looks so gentle and long because of your petit shoulders.” He ran his fingers down the middle of her chest, grazing the curves of both her breasts with the faintest touch that made her shiver and rested it on her waist. “Your breasts are the perfect size, not too small to be forgotten and not too big to be vulgar. Your waist is tiny. Like the ones in the black and white movies so that,” he shifted his hand to her back, stretching his fingers out over her waist so that his thumb and middle finger touched each edge, “it can fit perfectly in my hand.”

He let her go—she immediately felt bereft—and bent down, picking up her gown and tracing his fingers up her legs as he stood up. Elena’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes fluttering shut before she forced them open with a hard swallow. Her errant heart beat a tattoo in her chest, unable to make out her confused emotions. His every touch made her shiver, and it had nothing to do with the air conditioner.

 “Your legs are Barbie doll perfect and your hips are voluptuous and begging to be touched just the right way.  And your ass is as perfect as our heritage demands it, a true Latina’s ass, mi niña dulce, bonita.”

He slipped her hands into the gown and brought it up over her shoulders under her hair, his eyes back to being attached to hers. She was sure he could see how confused she was through them.

He ran his fingers down her arm to her hand, “Your arms are long and graceful like a ballerina’s.” He lifted her hand to his lips planting a feathery kiss on the inside of her wrist, making her gasp and shiver even more.

What was he doing to her!

He then brushed his lips over her palm and fingers, biting the tip of her middle finger gently before he raised her open palm to his cheek, “And your fingers are so delicate and long. So very soft and reassuring, like an angel's touch.”

He placed her hand on his shoulder then reached down to tie the gown’s belt and then placed both his hands on the sides of her face. “Your brown eyes are like diamonds, big and captivating.” He paused, his eyes searching hers and Elena immediately retreated from the spell he’d cast on her, feeling more exposed than she had standing naked in front of him. “But there is one thing I don’t like about your eyes.”

“What!” Elena demanded, her insecurities taking the best of her.

“They are always so hollow and sad.” He dropped his hands and took a step back, “I like you a lot. More than a doctor should towards his patient.” His tone changed, it was stern and direct, “You are always so insecure and afraid that you aren’t enough.”

“But I’m not!” Elena defended herself. This was one thing she was sure about. “I’m afraid and insecure because I know I’m not enough.”

“Who told you that?” he demanded, his temper making its way to the surface.

She’d never seen him like this. Her foot slid back instinctively, but she forced herself not to make another move. She’d known Dr. Gonzales for a long time and she knew—she couldn’t explain why—she just knew he would never harm her.

“Fernando, my husband, he knows me better than anyone.... better than I know myself!”

He snorted, “And I bet he is the one who told you to get surgeries you don’t even need!”

“Yes!” Elena shot back. She didn’t want the doctor to think ill of Fernando. He was only doing what was best for her! “It’s not his fault that I need them!”

He scoffed, his lips twisting in a cynical smile, “When he’s done making you look perfect, what is he going to do? Hang you on the Christmas tree or is your job exclusively hanging on his arm like a pretty ornament?”

“You don’t know him!” she yelled, tears running down her cheeks. “He’s doing it for me. Do you have any idea how expensive plastic surgery is?”

“Yes,” he spoke walking to his desk, “I have a Porsche and a house at the beach. I know exactly how expensive it is and I also know you don’t need any more surgeries.”

Elena felt her stomach drop. This was what she’d been dreading since she arrived. She’d had a feeling this would happen but she’d still held on to hope…

“You are not giving me the surgery?” she heard how defeated she sounded and it shamed her. She was Elena Lombardo de Ramirez. He couldn’t do this to her!“You are not giving me the surgery?” she demanded, her voice stronger with fake bravado.

He moved away from his desk and gave her his back as he walked to the door, “No.”

Elena ran, shooting past him, and pinned herself against the door to keep him from opening it, her tears running down her face unchecked as she sobbed, “Why are you doing this to me? Fernando says I need it! Why don’t you just do it?”

Doctor Gonzales gently grabbed her upper arms, shifted her away from the door and opened it, “You don’t need a tummy tuck. Your husband is addicted to plastic surgery and you are the dummy he is fulfilling it through. And anyway, like you said, men, especially those like your husband, always lie.”

He stepped out and the door shut behind him, a loud echo of rejection. This wasn’t how it was supposed to turn out.

“What am I going to do?” she wept, letting free the tears she’d been struggling to hold back all day.

Elena stared at the closed door confused, angry and panicked. Doctor Gabriel Gonzales was the best and most reputable plastic surgeon in Miami. All he had to do was label her a surgery addict and no one in his profession would touch her.

Elena sunk to the ground, her eyes glued to the door. Her short, panicked breaths slowly turned to sobs. Doctor Gonzales had screwed her and now she had Fernando to contend with.

Chapter Two

Gabriel listened at the door. He hated it when she was in pain, but he wasn’t going to help her destroy herself anymore. When he looked at her, seeing how beautiful she was and yet possessed of no self-worth, it amazed him how one man had managed to break such a beautiful woman down to absolutely nothing but a shadow.

The first time he’d seen her, her beauty had stupefied him. It had taken a couple of tries before his voice worked enough for him to introduce himself. She’d seemed almost ashamed to be at his office and that had piqued his interest. It wasn’t uncommon for women to feel insecure when they came to him, it was the reason why they did. But with her, the shame seemed to be something else that he couldn’t pinpoint. Then she’d done what she had earlier in his office—stripped. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a naked woman, he’d seen too many to count—professionally and personally—but his reaction to her was a first. The moment her body was exposed to him, the lust had hit him like a freight train and he’d had to remind himself severally and severely that she was a patient, a married patient. But that easily got under control when she asked him to spot all her flaws and fix them. She’d then hurriedly, her hands trembling—his stomach roiled at the memory of how hard her hands trembled—pulled a piece of paper out of her purse and handed it to him.

‘My husband says you should fix those first.’ She’d smiled, her lips trembling, her eyes welling with tears and her hands moving everywhere to cover her nakedness. He’d realized then what it was she felt ashamed about. It wasn’t her standing naked in front of him, far from it, it was the ugliness she felt on the inside, which sadly, he couldn’t fix.

He’d done the surgeries—barely—he’d nipped just enough to warrant a bandage or a bruise, but he’d done his best not to change much about her, no matter how many times she came to him. Each time she came back, he made sure to tell her how beautiful she was, how unnecessary the surgeries were... but then she would cry and he would give in. But not this time. This time, he’d refused to let her tears sway him.

Sadness engulfed him. The one part of her he loved most was her eyes and when he’d searched them earlier for a spark or something, anything other than their constant darkness, the disappointment sat in his stomach like lead weight. He got nothing. They were the same, always the same. He couldn’t let this go on any longer. Fernando was killing her! If she wasn’t going to fix her real problem, he would.

He took out his phone and dialed for the worst mistake he would ever make in his life.

“God forgive me for this,” he whispered as he waited for the voice of the best man and the only man he knew for the job. He would have no problem doing this. It was his job or hobby- whichever one it was, all Gabriel knew, it was an activity only psychopathic men did. “Damian, I need your help.”

“Hey! Hombre,” the familiar laughing voice came through the receiver, “long time, so what do you need?”

Gabriel pulled at his tightening collar, “Don’t worry. It’s right up your alley.”

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