The elevator doors on the VIP floor of the private hospital slammed open. Javier stepped out, his dark suit radiating a freezing, lethal energy.
Cale walked a half-step behind him. His face was grim. He held a thick stack of freshly printed medical reports in his hand.
Javier's leather shoes hit the polished marble floor with heavy, aggressive thuds. The sound echoed down the empty corridor like a countdown.
Brenda sat on a plastic chair outside the room. When she heard the footsteps, she jumped to her feet, her entire body trembling.
Javier stopped directly in front of her. He didn't say a single word. He snatched the stack of papers from Cale's hand and slammed them hard against Brenda's chest.
The papers exploded out of the folder, fluttering to the floor like snow.
"What did you do?" Javier asked. His voice was a low, terrifying whisper that promised absolute destruction.
Brenda stuttered, taking a step back. "She-she's a picky eater! It was just a sudden allergy, I swear I didn't-"
Javier let out a short, dark laugh. He rattled off the exact dates and amounts of three designer handbags Brenda had purchased using the black card.
Brenda's knees gave out. She collapsed onto the floor, tears streaming down her face as she began to beg loudly.
Javier didn't look down at her. "Call the lawyers," he ordered Cale. "Make sure she rots in a cell."
Cale grabbed the collar of Brenda's uniform. He dragged her down the hallway, her shoes scraping against the marble until her crying faded away.
Javier stood alone outside the door. He took a deep breath, forcing the violent rage out of his muscles. He pushed the door open.
The room was dim. The only sound was the steady, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.
Javier walked to the edge of the bed. He looked down at Ella. A clear oxygen mask covered her face. She looked incredibly small, her skin a translucent, sickly pale. An IV needle was taped to the back of her bruised hand.
The muscle in Javier's jaw locked. His hands dropped to his sides, his fingers curling into tight fists until his knuckles turned white.
Ella's eyelashes fluttered. She slowly opened her eyes.
She saw the tall, dark figure standing over her. Her pupils dilated, and tears instantly flooded her eyes.
She reached up with her free hand. She grabbed the edge of the oxygen mask and yanked it down. The sudden movement pulled the IV line tight, causing a streak of dark blood to back up into the clear tube.
Javier leaned over instantly. His large hand clamped down on her shoulder, pinning her flat against the mattress with undeniable force.
"Do not move," Javier ordered. His voice was harsh, but a faint tremor hid beneath the command.
Ella didn't fight him. Instead, her fingers shot out and grabbed the bottom edge of his suit jacket. She gripped the wool fabric so hard her joints ached.
She tilted her head back, looking up at him. Tears spilled over her bottom lashes, running down her pale cheeks and soaking into the pillow.
"Please," she rasped, her voice weak and broken. "Don't give me to anyone else."
She twisted the fabric in her fist. It was the only thing anchoring her to the earth.
"Let me live with you," she begged. "I'll sleep in the basement. Just don't leave me with strangers."
Javier stared down at her white-knuckled grip on his coat. His throat worked as he swallowed hard, a sudden, inexplicable tightness seizing his chest as if the oxygen had been completely sucked out of the room. He forced his face to freeze into a mask of total indifference. He reached down and grabbed her wrist.
One by one, he pried her cold, stiff fingers off his jacket.
He stood up straight, putting three feet of physical distance between them. He looked down at her with eyes as cold as ice.
