The Jilted Heiress: Too Late For Regret

clinical scent of antiseptic. It was clean,

to her left. She turned her head and saw him. The man from the hallway. He was sitting in a

button on the wall beside his chair. His voic

umming in her blood that made her feel slow and disconnected. But her mind was cle

as a luxury, and she didn't know

e asked, her voice raspy

t least confusion. Not this cool, detached analysis. "About six h

didn't bother to confirm or deny. Instead, she lifted her free hand and pressed her index and m

in concentration. Sean Beaumont chose that moment to walk in, a cup

doing?" he

pressure point up her arm and through her entire body. It was as if a stagnant current had

p, cleansing breath. The color was already returning to

nd of voodoo? The doctor said it would take at l

g shade of grey-blue that seemed to see right throu

e been exposed to a chronic neurotoxin. It's been in your system for about three years. I

laugh. "What are you talking about? That's crazy." He so

t but firm. He leaned forward slightly, his

termittent tremor he probably dismisses as a side effect of caffeine. And the expensive cologne he's wearing can't quite mask the faint, bi

vely looked at his right hand. Lately, he had been having trouble with his

was far more than she appeared. Her

rien, all business. "You saved me. Name your p

rien replied, his voice a low purr. "I

ele

n your services. I have... friends, with unique medical problem

with a man this powerful could be invaluable.

ip, not employment. I solve your problems, you provide me with a

mile of appreciation touching hi

eedle from the back of her hand with a steady, practiced moti

voice, stammered, "You..

re." She spotted a notepad and pen on the bedside table, left by a nurse. She picked them up and, in a few

drien. Then, she slipped into the generic

m without a backward glance, leaving the two most powerful

e had gone out for a meeting tonight and stumbled upon a stray. He was o