Lara Lacombe - Enticed By The Operative

“Sure thing.”

She stood, running her hand down the front of her blouse to smooth out the wrinkles. As a plastic surgeon, appearances mattered. She had to project confidence and competence, especially for a first meeting. Patients needed to see her as a calm, composed figure who could help transform their physical imperfections into assets. One of the first things they did was judge her own appearance, so she was always careful to make sure her hair and makeup looked good before every meeting.

A soft knock announced her patient’s arrival. She opened the door with a smile, ushering the man in and taking his file from Carrie, the office assistant. “Thank you,” she said softly to the other woman.

Olivia glanced at the chart before turning her attention to the man who had entered her office. Carlos Martinez. Her gaze tracked over his face as she gestured for him to take a seat. He was a few inches shorter than her, but he carried himself well. His eyes were clear and dark, and silver strands threaded through his black hair, lending him an air of sophistication. His skin had lost some elasticity due to age, and there were fine wrinkles fanning from the corners of his eyes and mouth. Face-lift, she thought automatically. A little pulling, a little stretching, and he’d look ten years younger in no time. And maybe a nose job, she added, focusing on the slight angle to his nose that hinted of a long-ago break that hadn’t healed properly.

She glanced at his body, wondering if he wanted some kind of liposuction, as well. He looked trim, but she knew from experience that a well-tailored suit like the one he was sporting could hide a multitude of sins.

“Mr. Martinez, I’m Dr. Sandoval.” She smiled as she extended her hand. His grip was firm but not painful.

“Nice to meet you.” His words carried a soft, lilting accent that told her English was not his first language. It reminded her of her father’s speech, the rolled r’s that sounded almost like a purr, the way his words strung together in a smooth rhythm. She was half-tempted to respond in Spanish, but decided against it. Spanish was the language of her family, the language of home. English helped her remember this was a business meeting and she had to keep things professional.

Olivia rounded her desk and sat, opening his file to a blank page so she could take notes. She liked to spend the first meeting talking to her patients, getting to know them and listening to what they wanted to change about their bodies. It was important that she keep their expectations realistic, especially from the beginning. A lot of people walked into her office looking like an average Joe and wanted to walk out looking like a supermodel. And although Olivia was very good at her job, some things were just not possible.

Although she didn’t love performing cosmetic procedures, it paid her bills and allowed her the freedom to pursue her true passion—helping those who truly needed plastic surgery to live a normal life. The burn patients, the children with cleft palates, the women who had suffered severe facial damage at the hands of abusive partners. She was lucky to have found a practice that allowed her to take on a lot of pro-bono work, and even better, they didn’t bat an eye when she took a month off every year to do charity work in Colombia.

She was really looking forward to her upcoming trip, but right now she needed to focus on the patient in front of her.

“What brings you to my office, Mr. Martinez?”

“I have business proposition for you.”

She lifted a brow at his unexpected reply. “I’m sorry, I thought you were here as a patient.” Had Carrie gotten her appointments mixed up? The office manager usually ran a tight ship, but everyone made mistakes.

Mr. Martinez waved a hand, as if the misunderstanding were of no consequence. “I didn’t specify when I made the appointment. I simply needed to see you.”

“Oh?” This was highly unorthodox. Olivia usually didn’t meet with potential business partners on her own—that was something all the members of the practice did together, to ensure everyone had equal input on decisions that might affect them all. “Can we reschedule this meeting so the other doctors can hear your proposal? That’s generally how we do things here.”

“There is no need,” Mr. Martinez replied smoothly. “This proposal is for your ears only.”

That was unusual. Olivia had joined the office five years ago, but she was far from being the senior doctor on staff. What could this man possibly want with her?

“All right,” she said, deciding to hear him out. His eyes held a glint that told her he was determined to say his piece. Better to listen and usher him out the door as quickly as possible so she could get on with her day.

“I understand you travel to Colombia every year, and spend a month doing pro bono work there.”

“Yes.” She leaned forward, excitement making her fingertips tingle. Did he want to donate? The medical charity she partnered with was always in need of funds for supplies, and the more money they raised, the more patients they could treat in Colombia and elsewhere in the world. The need for their services seemed to grow every year, a fact that broke her heart. “Are you interested in making a contribution?” It was a bold question, but subtlety had never been Olivia’s strong suit, especially when children in need were concerned.

“In a manner of speaking.” He spread his hands out, palms up, as if to say I’m a reasonable man.

“I have a proposal that I think will benefit both of us,” he continued.

“And what does it involve?” Would he just get to the point?

“What I am suggesting is merely that you act as a courier for my employer.”

“A courier?” Olivia felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck rise, and she suppressed a shudder. The man in front of her looked polished, but his continued use of euphemisms was suspicious.

“My employer has a business arrangement with partners in Colombia, but what they lack is a reliable transporter. If you accept this offer, you will simply carry funds and once there, exchange them for product. Upon your return, you will deliver the product to me.”

Olivia leaned back, wanting to get as far away from this man as possible. He hadn’t said anything overtly incriminating, but she wasn’t stupid. Product was just a nice word for drugs. “No,” she said flatly, faking a confidence she didn’t feel. She couldn’t afford to show weakness—it was clear the man in her office had unsavory connections, and she didn’t want to be seen as a target. “I’m not interested.”

“I think you will find our offer is very generous,” Mr. Martinez replied, ignoring her words. “I know you have extensive debt, both from your medical training and your parents’ hospital bills. We can make that go away.”

Olivia felt a spike of pain at the mention of her parents. Two years ago, they had been driving home in the middle of a storm when her father had lost control of the car and slid off the road into a tree. Both her parents had been seriously hurt and had lingered in intensive care for weeks before finally succumbing to their injuries. Losing them had almost broken Olivia, but over time, her blinding grief had morphed into a determination to live a life that would make them proud. Her pro bono work in Colombia was one way she found comfort, going back to her father’s home country to help those who needed it most.

The fact that this man was asking her to corrupt the work of her heart triggered a black wave of anger in her chest. How dare he try to use the loss of her parents against her? Did he really think she was so desperate for money that she would resort to carrying drugs to pay her debts? She wanted to lash out, to scream at him to leave and then call the police to report him.