Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
It’s not where I would’ve expected a cutting-edge medical facility to be located, but what do I know? It’s a nice area, that’s for sure.
Alexei helps me out of the car as though I were already disabled, but I don’t mind. Nor do I mind his hand on my lower back, its weight and warmth gently supportive. My knees feel weak and shaky, and my heart beats much too fast as we enter the building—which looks much more modern on the inside, with the reception area decorated in soothing blue-gray hues. Live plants in clay pots line the reception counter, adding a touch of life and warmth to the cool interior, as does a lush, six-foot-tall potted cane to the right of the reception desk.
Before we can approach the receptionist, a pretty blonde who looks to be in her late teens, the doors behind her swing open, and two middle-aged men in white coats emerge. I swallow hard as they approach us with broad, welcoming smiles.
“Mr. and Mrs. Leonov,” the shorter one says in lightly accented British English. “It is such a pleasure to meet you both. I’m Dr. Ingels, and this is my colleague, Dr. Fasseau. We work with Dr. Kressler. Dr. Fasseau will perform the operation, and I will assist him with it.”
Alexei nods, his jaw tight. “Let’s get on with it.”
The doctors look taken aback. Like most Western Europeans, they’re used to at least a modicum of polite chitchat. Alexei is clearly not in the mood to indulge them, and neither am I. They regroup quickly, however.
“Please, follow us,” Fasseau says. “We’ll start by running a few more tests, beginning with a more thorough MRI.”
Great. Another hour with all the clanking and beeping noises—just what my throbbing head needs. But it would be foolish to object. Since they’re going to be cutting into my brain, I want them to be very sure about what they’re doing. And there’s a tiny part of me that’s still hoping that maybe, just maybe, I was misdiagnosed. That the supposed tumor was the result of a faulty MRI machine on the submarine—it was a portable one, after all.
Alexei doesn’t say anything either. Silently, we follow the two doctors down a hallway and to a small, cozy room, one wall of which is occupied by two large lockers.
“You can change here,” Ingels says. “You can find a dressing gown and slippers in either of the lockers. Please be sure to remove all jewelry and anything that may contain metal. You don’t have a pacemaker or any implanted devices, correct?”
“Correct,” I say.
“Good,” Fasseau says. “We’ll have you fill out a more detailed form before the test begins, but for now, please go ahead and change. Oh, and if you need to use the bathroom, now would be a good time, as the scan will take at least an hour and a half.”
I wince, my headache worsening at the mere thought of it. But there’s nothing to be done, so I just wait for the doctors to depart, which they do promptly. Alexei stays, however, his expression dark and concerned as he steps up to me.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly, laying his hand on my upper arm. “If you want to rest for a few minutes before—”
I shake my head. “No. I’m fine. Well… not fine, but you know.”
“Yeah.” His face tightens, even as he gently rubs his palm up and down my arm. “I know.”
I stare up at him, the peculiar impulse to touch him returning. I want to kiss the hard, grim line of his lips and smooth the new lines of tension bracketing his mouth, to trace my knuckles over the uncompromising line of his jaw and run my fingertips over the rough, dark stubble on his cheeks.
Though by all rights, he’s still my adversary, it no longer feels like it. It feels like we’re a team, like we’re in this together… because even though I’m the one who’s sick, he’s suffering too.
I can see it, and it hurts me—and I don’t understand why.
The rhythm of his breathing alters, his dark eyes heating up. As always, he can sense the fatal weakness within me, the way I’m drawn to him against my will. And this time, it’s not purely physical, this urge that’s growing within me. It’s something deeper, more resonant… more dangerous.
I should run from it. I should fight it with all my might. But I can’t—if only because I’m saving all the fight in me for the upcoming battle for my life. Or at least that’s the excuse I’ll tell myself later, when I’m beating myself up for what I’m about to do.
For this.
I grip his face between my palms, rise up onto my tiptoes, and press my lips to his.
Chapter 2
Alexei
For the first few moments, I’m convinced that I’ve fallen asleep on the plane and am now caught in a nightmare that’s taken a sudden turn into a wet dream. What else can explain the fact that Alina’s soft lips are pressed to mine, her tongue venturing boldly into my mouth while her delicate hands cradle my face, even as the two doctors stand right outside the thin wall of this changing room, waiting to perform an MRI that will confirm her deadly diagnosis?