Chapter 6 - The Hospital Visit
At 1:30 p.m., the armored Lincoln pulled up to the ambulance entrance of St. Catherine’s Memorial Hospital.
The rain had cleared, leaving the streets washed and bright under the cold sun.
“Maria will take Lily to the park at three, then bring her to the penthouse for dinner,” Dominic said from the rear bench of the car, watching me as I straightened the collar of my clean coat. “You will have two guards stationed outside the ER entrance. They will not bother you. They will simply ensure that no unidentified vehicles park near the bay.”
I looked at him, feeling a mixture of anxiety and strange, unsettling comfort.
“Dominic,” I said softly, holding my hand on the door handle. “I am an attending surgeon. I can’t have two six-foot-four security guards following me down the halls of a public hospital.”
“They will wear scrubs,” Dominic said flatly. “And they will stand near the coffee station. No one will notice.”
I let out a short, incredulous laugh. “You really think of everything, don't you?”
“I think of what matters,” he replied.
He reached out, his long fingers catching my hand before I could open the door. He didn't pull, but the warmth of his skin sent a sudden, electric shock traveling straight up my arm.
“Nora,” he said, his light eyes fixing on mine with dead seriousness. “The world you live in is full of pain you try to repair. The world I live in is full of violence I try to control. Last night, those two worlds touched. I will not let yours be ruined by mine.”
“It’s already changing, Dominic,” I whispered, looking down at our joined hands.
“Then let it change for the better,” he said gently. He lifted my hand, pressing his lips to the back of my knuckles—a gesture so old-fashioned, so tender, that my breath caught in my throat. “I will pick you up at eight.”
I stepped out of the car, my heart hammering against my chest like a trapped bird, and walked through the sliding glass doors of the emergency room.
The hospital was as chaotic as ever. Telephones were ringing, heart monitors were chiming, and paramedics were wheeling a gurney down the main corridor.
Dr. Sarah Lin, my closest colleague and senior trauma resident, met me at the central nurses' station, holding two paper cups of coffee.
“Nora!” Sarah gasped, grabbing my arm and dragging me behind the desk. “Where were you last night?! The whole department was talking about you!”
“I was... my babysitter had an issue,” I stammered, feeling heat rise into my cheeks.
“Forget the babysitter!” Sarah squealed under her breath, her eyes sparkling with insane curiosity. “Who was the guy who dropped you off just now in a multi-million-dollar armored Lincoln? And why are there two insanely handsome guys in navy scrubs standing near the vending machines looking like they belong in a tactical unit?!”
I glanced toward the hallway. Standing near the coffee machine were two towering men with sharp hair, broad shoulders, and dark, scanning eyes—wearing medical scrubs that looked entirely too clean for an ER shift.
I closed my eyes, pressing my hands over my face.
“Sarah,” I groaned. “You don't want to know.”
“Oh, I definitely want to know!” Sarah laughed, slapping my shoulder. “Is he a billionaire? A diplomat? A secret agent?”
“He’s... a logistics developer,” I lied, using Dominic’s phrase, though the word felt completely absurd on my tongue.
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“Right,” Sarah smirked, taking a sip of her coffee. “And I’m the Queen of England. Whoever he is, Nora... he looked at you through that car window like he’d burn down this entire city if you got a papercut.”
I looked back out toward the street through the glass doors. The black Lincoln was still idling at the curb, dark, powerful, and protective in the winter sun.
