Page 62 of Dangerous Devotion

“What’s happening to her?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“What happened?” Max demanded, his hands already moving to check her vitals.

I tried to speak, but my voice caught in my throat. I stared at the glass of orange juice still between us on the table, a stark reminder of our lighthearted conversation just moments ago.

Max’s brow furrowed as he examined Fee. “This looks like poisoning,” he muttered, his voice tight with concern. He looked up, his gaze sweeping across all of us. “Did she eat or drink something?”

My heart stopped. The orange juice. My orange juice. She’d taken a sip from my juice.

My fingers tightened into a fist as guilt and horror washed over me.

I got up, moved to the table. “She…she drank from my orange juice,” I managed to choke out, picking up the glass with a shaking hand.

The room erupted into chaos. People shouted orders, and footsteps thundered as everyone moved at once. Someone mentioned my name, but it all felt distant like I was underwater.

“We need to move her now!” Max’s voice cut through the noise. “Every second counts!”

I stood there, numb and unmoving, as chaos erupted around me.

Suddenly, Vince was there. I hadn’t even seen him enter, but his presence filled the room instantly. His eyes met mine for a brief moment before he turned to the others, his voice calm and authoritative.

“Matt, you go with Alex, Max, and Fee in the helicopter. Matt, call ahead to the hospital; make sure they’re prepared. Hawk, I want a full security sweep of the property. Now.”

A chill ran down my spine. Gone was the tender, passionate man from last night. In his place stood a different person entirely—cold, composed, and utterly in control.

His gaze swept the room, taking in every detail as he issued rapid-fire commands.

I was still holding the glass with a trembling hand. My fingers clenched around it. It felt like a dead weight, a damning piece of evidence in my hand, and for some strange reason, I couldn’t let go.

Without a word, Vince was by my side and gently pried the glass from my fingers. “Did you drink it, as well?” he asked.

I shook my head, detached, as he barked orders to someone nearby. “Get this into a sealed container. Make sure a sample goes with Fee to the hospital. Move it!”

I watched, frozen in place, as they lifted Fee onto a stretcher. Her body had stopped seizing, but she lay frighteningly still as she was carried out of the room. Where did they get the stretcher?

“I want every security camera checked. No one leaves this property without my say-so. Understood?” Vince barked. His voice was sharp, cutting through my panic like a laser through steel.

People scrambled to obey his orders without question. This was Vince in his element, the feared Mafia boss I’d first met.

While my thoughts went in circles, completely muddled.

How did this happen to her? Why Fee? She didn’t deserve this. Please let her survive this.

Oh my God. How? Why?

I took a deep breath, trying to get my fear under control. But my body was completely non-functioning. I tried to move, to do something, anything to help, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. I was frozen, useless, while everyone around me moved with purpose.

The contrast between Vince’s composed efficiency and my own paralysis was stark.

But what could I do?

As if sensing my distress, Vince’s eyes met mine for a brief moment. There was a flicker of something—concern, perhaps?—before the mask of control slipped back into place.

He turned away, continued to orchestrate the response to this crisis with ruthless precision.

And I stood there, feeling small and helpless, and guilty.

The tightness in my chest increased with every second ticking by.

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