REVELATION | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

In a state of acoustic shock and confusion, I drove to the Royal London hospital on two wheels. I deserted the Bentley, left it running outside of the emergency unit, knowing that Brad, who travelled behind me in Vincent's Bugatti, would park off-road on my behalf. I had an out-of-body experience, seeing myself sprint from the stark white vestibule throughout the chemical-smelling hallways.

I never shake. Even in the most challenging, dangerous and life-threatening situations, I maintain my unfaltering equilibrium. But since ending Jace's call, placating myself manifested as unachievable. I had turbulent spurts of tremors, an unprecedented strain of consternation and all-consuming fear.

"Alexa Haines," I said breathlessly, wiping ash and sweat from my forehead.

Behind the glass partition, the receptionist on the front desk extracts herself from the amass of nattering co-workers. Loading the computer, she taps Alexa's details. Her stone-faced expression, increasing my trepidations. "Friend or family member?"

"I'm her..." Placing my shaky hands onto the Silestone-countertop, I dropped my head and inhaled a big breath, holding it for a moment.

Brad and Vincent, I sensed their disquieted nearness behind me.

Fixing her black-framed glass, she tapped a pen on the desk, waiting for me to answer her question.

"He's in shock," Brad informed her, latching a firm hand around the nape of my neck. "Just tell us where we can find Alexa—"

"I can't do that," she said stubbornly, and my nostrils flared on an inhalation. Her judgmental eyes catalogued my dishevelled appearance, the dirt and grass stains of my shirt. "I can, however, tell you to take a seat in the waiting room."

I felt my rage building, disseminating through me. "That's my fucking woman in there," I barked, slamming a curled-up fist down on the counter. Levelling her with my cold, glassy eyes, I lowered my voice. "Please." I ripped open my chest and bore my heart and soul in a rare occurrence of saddened vulnerableness. "I love her."

Brad squeezed my neck and stepped back, his hands burying in his trouser pockets.

Sighing in defeat, she rose from her chair and collected a folder. "Let me see what I can do."

Disregarding visitors in the cramped seating area, I put my back to the wall and compelled myself to get a handle on my corrosive emotions. Vincent hasn't uttered a word. Similar to Brad, he remained tight-mouthed. Detached.

Brad raked a hand through his messy hair. "Did Jace tell you what happened?"

I shook my head. "I didn't let him finish."

Folding one arm over his chest, Vincent chewed his thumbnail. Our gazes met, and neither of us looked away or broke the silence. He watched me watching him, a storm greying his blue eyes.

To the right of us, the door to the ICU unit opened and a trained nurse, whose eyes scoured the waiting room, paced leisurely.

Declining my perched foot from the wall, I uncurled my spine and stalked towards her with determined strides.

Anticipating an antagonistic family member, she readied herself for whatever the sanctimoniously mannered receptionist had misrepresented.

"Liam Warren." Identifying myself, I towered above her short, plump frame, trying my utmost best not to intimidate. "I appreciate you have to follow official procedures apropos of patients; however, this is not me staying on the ward after visiting hours or imperiously demanding special treatment for my loved one. Immaterial to what that jumped-up jobsworth told you, I am not here to cause any trouble." Yet, I thought, locking my jaw. "Alexa Haines. I need to see her."