It doesn’t take long before there’s a knock on the door and an older man in a lab coat enters the room. He’s tall with salt and pepper hair and eyes so dark they almost look black. “Good morning, Savina. I’m Dr. Pershick. How are you?” he asks with a smile that shows off his yellow andbroken teeth.
“I’m okay…I guess,” I tell him. I’m so nervous, I’m sweating.
“I just need to do a vaginal exam for the marriage contract. It’s required.”
I frown at his words. “A vaginal exam?” I squeak out. I thought I was just here to get some blood work done or something. You know, somethingnormal.
“Oh, I know it sounds scary, but trust me, it’s routine.Veryroutine,” he stresses. The fact that he repeated the routine part does not make me feel any better. “Lay back, please,” he instructs.
Reluctantly, I lay back but keep an eye on him. I wait for him to at least put on a pair of gloves or prep in some other way, but he doesn’t.
Frowning, I try to position myself to get a better look at what he’s doing, but he clucks his tongue at me and says, “Stay on your back. This won’t take long.” And then he instructs, “Please, open your legs for me.”
My body is full of tension, and I have to force myself to spread them a little. Then, his large hands are on my knees, forcing them apart, spreading me wide open on the table.
I stare at the ceiling, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth. My entire body is shaking, and I know it’s not from the temperature in the room. This all feels…wrong.
When I feel his fingers touch my outer lips, I jump, and he chuckles. “Relax,” he tells me.
Relax? How can I possibly relax?!
I feel as if I’m disassociating when I feel him prodding around my most private areas. And when I feel his finger graze against my clit, I’ve had enough. I sit up quickly, and he looks at me with a sheepish grin.
“Sorry about that,” he apologizes, but I don’t believe him. I know deep down he did that on purpose.
I’m trembling uncontrollably as I close my legs. “Are we d-d-done?” I ask, my teeth chattering.
“Not yet. Get on your hands and knees. I need to take some pictures.”
“P-p-pictures? Why?” I stammer.
My question seems to piss him off because he huffs in frustration, his face morphing with anger. “This is all routine, Savina. Now, please. Hands and knees,” he says impatiently.
Slowly, I get into position, my stomach dropping as I hear him behind me as he gently lifts my gown to expose my body. It feels like my head is below water and I’m slowly drowning. None of this seems normal or routine to me. I feel like I’m being exploited. But why would the Sokolovs send me to a doctor who would take advantage of me? What would they have to gain? Nothing, I suppose. So, I keep my mouth shut and do as he says.
I hear a clicking noise on his phone, alerting me to the fact that he’s taking not one but several pictures of me. I even hear his feet shuffling around as he takes different angles.What the hell?
I quickly hop off the table, my cheeks heating by the blush burning over my face and neck. Before I can even move, the doctor unties the top of my gown and says, “Hold still.” And then he proceeds to grab my right breast, fondling me as tears fill my eyes. “Very nice,” he mutters.
He continues to take pictures with his phone as he molests me. When he reaches out to pinch my nipple, I gasp and step away from him. I hurriedly cinch the gown around me. “We’re done here,doctor,” I sneer, stressing the last word and wondering if he is even legit.
“Okay, that should be good enough for the Sokolovs,” he says, his thin lips stretching into a smile.
And in that moment, he doesn’t look like a doctor at all but like a big, creepy sleazeball. And I suddenly feel dirty.So dirty.
“I’d like to get d-d-dressed now and g-go.” I try to keep my voice calm and steady, but it comes out watery. My chest rises and falls rapidly, and I realize I’m on the verge of having a panic attack or a full-blown meltdown.
“Of course,” he finally says, placing his phone in his pocket, the very phone which now contains numerous nude pictures of me, and walks out of the room.
He doesn’t even bother closing the door behind him. Fuming, I walk over and slam it shut. My mind races as I go back over the past fifteen minutes in this room. This isn’t right. Something is not right here. This can’t be what the Sokolovs requested, is it? Did they do this on purpose just to humiliate me? Did Dimitri somehow set this up as some kind of cruel prank or joke because I’ve been ignoring him?
A million different scenarios swim through my mind as a painful headache blooms behind my eyes and my vision blurs from the tears threatening to fall. I angrily wipe them away and instead focus on getting dressed faster than I ever have before in my entire life. I’m pretty sure my shirt is on backwards and my shoes are on the wrong feet as I bolt out of the room and then out of that horrible office.
Once I’m secured in the back of the awaiting car, a rivulet of tears stream down my face, and I crumble against the leather seat as I sob uncontrollably. Reggie asks me what’s wrong, but I can barely hear him. It feels like my head is full of cotton and everything around me is muffled. I’m too shaken up to answer him anyway, and I wouldn’t even know where to start. I just know that I feel so damn violated.
I don’t care if the Sokolovs hired that doctor. Everything that happened in that office was wrong. I can feel it in my gut.
CHAPTER THIRTY
