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Tony Stark.
Stephen hadn’t known his soulmate’s name when he’d ended up on Stephen’s table. As callous as it made him sound—as callous as the others called him—he tried to never know his patients’ names.
He’d never lost a patient. But no one could maintain perfection forever, not even him. When it happened, Stephen hadn’t wanted a name to haunt him.
Tony’s name, he knew, would haunt him far longer than any other, if he ended up losing him, whether he was the one with the knife in hand or not.
“Doctor Stephen Strange?” a woman asked.
Stephen looked up, trying to keep his control. “Yes?”
The woman examined him, strawberry blonde hair up in a pony tail and dark circles under her eyes. “I’m Pepper Potts, Tony Stark’s PA,” she said. He’d seen her before he’d scrubbed in, demanding the best care with vicious adamancy. “They told us you’d been removed as the primary surgeon because…”
“I’m his soulmate,” Stephen whispered. He could barely think through the complications of who his soulmate was. Didn’t know what to think, when he knew his soulmate from tv segments and gossip, but didn’t know him for the person he really was.
He might never get that chance.
She tried for a smile. “He’s always wanted to meet you,” she whispered. Her gaze flickered to the door that led to the surgical ward.
“I’ve been waiting for this day as long as I can remember,” Stephen admitted quietly.
“Give it a few hours…”
Stephen’s smile was probably closer to a grimace. “Looking forward to it.”
Nic’s surgery stats ran through his mind. Nic wasn’t as good as Stephen. No one was as good as Stephen.
Please, he begged the universe, let him survive.
He’d never had much faith in the universe.