Walking into the hospital on your first day, you had expected a lot. Long hours, grueling cases, maybe even a little hazing. What you hadn’t expected was Dr. Addison Montgomery herself standing in front of you, arms crossed, red hair catching in the overhead lights like a warning sign.

She looked you up and down, unimpressed.

“You’re the new OB intern?” she asked, voice crisp, cutting straight to the point.

“Yes, Dr. Montgomery,” you answered, standing straighter under her gaze.

Her lips quirked like she was fighting a smirk, but whatever amusement she found was gone in a second. She stepped closer, just enough for you to catch the faint scent of her perfume—something warm, expensive, completely unfair.

“Well, you’re on my service now,” she continued. “And that means your ass is mine until I say otherwise.”

You swallowed, your brain immediately supplying about a hundred inappropriate responses to that statement. But the sharpness in her gaze told you she wasn’t joking.

“Got it,” you said instead, keeping your voice steady.

She hummed, as if debating whether she believed you. Then, she handed you a tablet with a list of patients, her nails tapping once against the screen before she let go.

“Rounds in ten,” she said. “Don’t be late.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving you standing there with your heart hammering and an inexplicable heat curling in your stomach.

You had a feeling this was going to be a long, long rotation.