Dawn had been wrong.

Well, at least partially. Little Oaks Hospital had been rather generous with the four-star hotel they'd chosen for the conference trip. They'd booked separate rooms for Caliana and Isaac, albeit ones adjoined by a single lockable door.

Now, still sluggish from the four-hour flight from London Gatwick to Mytilene Airport, Caliana knelt beside the small aquamarine-coloured suitcase nestled on the plush carpet. She rummaged through her belongings, desperately searching for her iPhone charger. Her fingers brushed over silk blouses, a couple of paperbacks, and a hairbrush, but no charger. A few stray hairs she'd missed during her rushed shaving spree the morning before stood on end, and her skin prickled as a sharp knock sounded from the adjoining door.

"Come in. I haven't locked it," Caliana called, her voice muffled as she leaned deeper into her suitcase.

The door creaked open, and Isaac's familiar footsteps followed—quiet, controlled, each step making the floorboards beneath the thick carpet shift. The air between them always seemed to hum with a barely contained energy, like the charged moments before a summer storm. Her hand stilled in the open suitcase, hovering above a tangle of clothes as she turned to face him.

Images from the flight flickered through her mind: the way his fingers had brushed hers while reaching for the in-flight menu, the casual yet intimate graze of his arm against hers as they rushed through security, and the sight of him carrying her suitcases with ease. She wasn't quite sure why she was so shocked that he'd traded his teal-green scrubs for a crisp white linen shirt, the sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows, showcasing the sinewy muscles of his forearms. A pair of form-fitting faded blue jeans complemented the look, hugging his lean, powerful frame in a way that emphasized his build. The effortless ensemble gave him a laid-back yet undeniably commanding presence; the kind that made heads turn without him even trying.

Her gaze flitted away, refocusing on her half-unpacked suitcase. "Did you need something or are you just planning to stare at me all night?" she asked, trying—and failing—to suppress the smirk tugging at her lips.

But Isaac's eyes weren't on her face; they were fixed on the lacy mauve two-piece swimsuit dangling from her fingers from where she had absentmindedly continued rummaging through the suitcase. His gaze was steady, almost unreadable, but Caliana could feel the intensity radiating from him, like heat waves shimmering off an asphalt. A flutter of nerves and something else, something darker and sweeter, coiled in her belly. She let out a soft, nervous laugh, the sound too loud in the pensive silence between them.

"Of course, I packed a bikini. We are in Greece, after all." Caliana's fingers brushed against the soft, lacy fabric, lingering, as if the swimsuit itself held the answer to why she suddenly felt like her skin was too tight. The air seemed to ripple, almost visible, a current stretching between the two and connecting them. "Is that a problem?"

Isaac tilted his head, locking eyes with her. "Not a problem," he said, his lips curling into a faint smirk, sharp and deliberate. His gaze was molten, an electric blue as he held hers with a force that made her pulse quicken. "In fact," he murmured, his voice low and steady, "I'm willing to bet that you were hoping I'd be staring at you for all of this trip, not just tonight."

Caliana's pulse jumped, the words wrapping around her like a velvet rope, pulling her closer to a precipice she hadn't realized she was standing on. She could feel the flush creeping up her neck, a tell-tale sign she hoped he wouldn't notice. But his gaze was sharp, missing nothing, and her breath hitched. She tried to cover the moment with a smirk, leaning into the challenge instead of shying away. "Who said I was hoping for anything?"

Isaac's lips curved just slightly further, a flicker of amusement or perhaps something more. "Aren't you?" he said, the words barely more than a murmur, their meaning echoing in the tense silence. Before she could respond, Isaac cleared his throat. "But actually," he continued, his tone now altered to something more measured, "I came to ask if you were alright?"

Caught off guard, Caliana hesitated. "Yes, of course I am. Are you?"

He moved closer, sitting down on the edge of her bed. The mattress dipped under his weight. Caliana's mind betrayed her with a vision of him lying back, pulling her down under him, their bodies entwined in the sheets. She shook her head, trying to dispel the thought. "It's just the car ride to Gatwick, you barely spoke. It felt like something was weighing on your mind." He continued. "It's quite unnerving when you're so quiet."

She glanced up at him, dumbfounded. He was right, of course. The fallout with her housemates and Dawn had been playing on her mind earlier that morning. But an unexpected text from Dawn asking if she'd arrived safely, followed by similar messages from Amari and Roscoe, had appeased her and pulled her thoughts away from the chaos of the night before. Truth be told, she hadn't thought much about them since she landed. Yet the fact that Isaac had noticed the change in her mood, that he cared enough to ask, meant something... didn't it?

Isaac's gaze didn't waver, concern etched in the lines of his face. "I just wouldn't want anything to jeopardize your presentation tomorrow morning. Your career is the most important thing right now."

The way he said it—so clinical, so detached—was like a cold splash of water, extinguishing the heat that was brimming within the room. She nodded, pushing down the disappointment curling in her chest. "Right, the presentation. Don't worry—I'll be fine. I've prepared." She hesitated before continuing. "And don't worry, I'll try my best not to embarrass you tomorrow."

Isaac's brows furrowed, his expression flickering. He stood abruptly, the bed shifting back into place as his weight lifted, leaving a hollow in the space he had occupied. "That wasn't..." His voice trailed off; the words caught in his throat. He looked at her, and for a moment, she thought she saw a crack in his stoic mask—a glimpse of uncertainty, maybe even regret. But it vanished just as quickly, replaced by his usual guarded calm.

He took a step towards the door, his fingers grazing the doorframe. "What I meant to say was that I'm here if you ever wanted to talk. About anything." His tone softened, the offer sincere, even as his stance remained rigid. He tapped his knuckles lightly against the wood, a hollow sound that echoed across the quiet room, bouncing off the walls. "Get some sleep soon. It's getting late."

Caliana let out a shaky breath, her heart still racing, the ghost of his presence lingering in the air. "Sleep, yeah right."

She meant what she said—she didn't want him to worry about her. But a small, traitorous part of her was glad that he had. She wished he'd go further, even. Wished he'd let him cross the invisible line between them.

---

The next morning, Caliana stood behind the curtain, her heart hammering in her chest like a restless bird desperate to break free. She clutched the small remote in her hand, fingers trembling, feeling its hard edges against her skin. Beyond the heavy curtains, the conference room buzzed with a low hum of conversation, punctuated by the occasional clink of coffee cups. She knew that behind those curtains, over two hundred international oncologists, dermatologists, and researchers waited, their anticipation thick in the air. This presentation was more than just a formality—it was her chance to introduce a groundbreaking new immunotherapy option for basal cell skin carcinoma. If successful, it could mean securing vital funding for skin cancer patients at Little Oaks and in surrounding hospitals.

She smoothed down her blazer, and the ringlets escaping from the neat bun on her scalp for what felt like the hundredth time. Isaac's words from the previous night echoed in her mind. "Your career is the most important thing." He was right, of course. This was her opportunity to make her mark in the world of dermatology, and the weight of it pressed down heavily on her shoulders.

"Doctor Caliana Monsoon," a voice boomed over the speakers. "From Little Oaks Hospital, UK, presenting on novel immunotherapy advancements in basal cell skin cancer."

Caliana squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped out onto the stage. The bright lights hit her all at once, momentarily blinding her. She blinked rapidly, trying to adjust, and in the front row, she could just make out Isaac's silhouette. He was leaning slightly forward, his gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that made her heart flutter. The sight of him, so focused and supportive, anchored her, a steadying presence in a sea of unfamiliar faces.

With a shaky smile, she clicked the remote, expecting to see the title slide of her presentation projected behind her. Instead, a photo of her younger twin brothers, Karim and Zain, appeared on the massive screen. They were grinning cheekily at the camera, wearing matching Captain America pajamas—pulled down just enough to expose their bare rears, their heads turned to display mischievous, unapologetic smiles. The image was several years old, but Caliana kept it saved and ready for when she wanted to embarrass the now teenage boys.

For a second, the room was silent, then a wave of chuckles rippled through the audience. Caliana's mouth went dry, panic gripping her. No, no, no! This wasn't supposed to happen. Her mind blanked, and she fumbled with the remote, desperately trying to switch to the next slide. She could almost hear Isaac's voice in her head, chastising her for not quadruple-checking the slides, intermingled with Dawn's mocking laughter.

Caliana forced a smile, fighting the urge to crawl under the podium. "Well, there's my brothers, Karim and Zain," she said, attempting to sound nonchalant. "They always said they wanted to show their best sides to the world. Guess they finally got their chance." She chuckled, but it sounded more like a squeak, the joke hanging in the air like a lead balloon.

She glanced at Isaac, her eyes searching his for reassurance. Their gazes met, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Isaac's eyes, warm and understanding, offered a lifeline.

Caliana drew a deep breath, feeling the panic begin to ebb. She pressed the correct button this time, and the embarrassing photo disappeared, replaced by the intended slide. "Alright, let's get back to the science, shall we?" she said, her voice steadier, laced with a touch of humor. "Unless, of course, someone's looking to sign my brothers for a comedy gig. I'm always willing to negotiate reasonable offers."

This time, genuine laughter bubbled up from the audience, easing the tension in the room. Caliana seized the momentum, launching into her presentation. She launched into her presentation, the familiar rhythm of her speech calming her nerves. "The new immunotherapy drug we've been developing, Melizumab, shows significant promise in treating advanced cases of basal cell skin carcinoma. What sets Melizumab apart is its ability to target and destroy cancerous cells while sparing healthy tissue, drastically reducing the side effects compared to conventional therapies." Caliana continued, outlining the research, the trials, the data—all the while feeling Isaac's presence grounding her.

To make the concept more relatable to the patients on the panel, she offered a simple analogy: "Think of the cancer cells as bad guys wearing cheap disguises, like a fake mustache and glasses. Our immunotherapy is the detective that spots the lousy disguise and calls in the cavalry to take them out. Kind of like the SWAT team in a bad American detective show."

The analogy drew laughter and a smattering of applause. Caliana continued, explaining how early trials had shown promising results, with fewer side effects compared to conventional treatments. Her passion for her work shone through, every word underscoring her commitment to advancing the field and her hope for the future of cancer treatment.

She punctuated her presentation with stories of patients who had benefited from the therapy, weaving their experiences into the data, making the science feel personal and tangible. By the time she reached her conclusion, she felt a shift in the room's energy. The earlier mishap with the photo had become a distant memory, replaced by an engaged, attentive audience. She concluded with a vision of a future where basal cell carcinoma was not just treatable but potentially curable, thanks to targeted immunotherapy.

"And in closing," she said, her voice strong, "I'd like to thank the research team at Little Oaks Hospital, who allowed me to showcase the importance of this immunotherapy. As for Karim and Zain, maybe one day they'll save lives with their crude humor. Until then, I'll stick to trying to save lives through science. Thank you."

Applause erupted, a wave of sound that washed over Caliana. She exhaled, feeling the relief flood through her like a tidal wave. She scanned the crowd, immediately seeking Isaac. He wasn't clapping along with everyone else, but a small smile traced his lips, reaching his eyes, his dimples deepening enough for Caliana to know it was genuine. In that moment Caliana had done far more than give an adequate presentation – she'd thrived.

As Caliana stepped off the stage, a wave of people immediately swarmed her, offering congratulations and eager handshakes. She nodded politely, murmuring her thanks as she navigated through the crowd. A panellist slipped a business card into her hand as she passed, and she accepted it absently, her mind still buzzing from the presentation.

The spokesperson's voice boomed in the background as she sank into the seat beside Isaac. He didn't speak at first, his expression guarded, arms crossed over his chest as though he were keeping both her and the world at a distance. But as the second and third candidates took the stage, his hand brushed lightly against her bare elbow—a brief, almost accidental touch that carried more comfort and warmth than words ever could.

"You survived," he said, his voice dry, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Barely."

"I can always count on your vote of confidence, can't I?" Caliana whispered in return, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm surprised you didn't start by berating me about that stupid photo."

Isaac raised an eyebrow, his gaze softening. "you're telling me that wasn't a part of the presentation? I mean, really, what's ground-breaking medical research without a couple of bare asses on display?"

Caliana snorted, nudging him with her shoulder. "Well, cancer is pretty ballsy. Maybe immunotherapy is the spanking it needs."

Isaac leaned in closer, lowering his voice, his breath warm against her ear. "Oh yeah. There's a slogan if I ever heard one. Doctor Monsoon: fighting cancer one butt cheek at a time."

Caliana laughed, shaking her head, her joy palpable. "I'm trying to make my mark in the dermatology world, and here you are, turning my work into a punchline."

Isaac's teasing expression softened, revealing a glimmer of genuine admiration. "You don't need me to tell you you've excelled yourself once again."

His praise, given with such warmth, made Caliana's heart swell. She beamed, feeling the euphoria of her success mingling with his appreciation. The rest of the conference blurred around them, the buzz of new research and discussions fading into the background as she savoured the moment. She almost missed the conference spokesperson announcing, "And don't forget, the ten hospitals selected for funding will be revealed at the medical gala tomorrow night."

The next presenter's voice echoed through the room, but Isaac leaned even closer, his voice a soft, conspiratorial whisper. "So, I suppose dinner's on me tonight. Consider it a reward for not completely embarrassing yourself—and me."

Caliana met his gaze, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. The warmth in his eyes, combined with the intimacy of their shared joke, made her pulse quicken. "Oh, come on. Dinner was always going to be on you, regardless of how the presentation went."