Page 68 of Ruthless Serenade

I pull out my phone and transfer the money before he can even finish speaking. "Done."

He blinks at me. "Um… thank you, sir. Now, I’m going to need your details. I need to inform the patient’s mother that…"

I fix him with a glare. "No. This is off the record."

"I understand, sir, but for documentation purposes…"

I’m really on the verge of losing my patience. My hand snaps out and I grip his shoulder. His eyes widen. "I said it’s off the record. Now, if we’re finished here, I would like to see Sharon." I punctuate every word, not taking my eyes off him.

Poor bastard looks like he’s about to soil himself, but I’m beyond caring. "Follow me, sir," he stumbles out.

"Lead the way," I command.

As we head toward Sharon’s room, my heart begins to race in my chest, like I’m walking into a firefight.

What the fuck are you doing, mudak?

I still don’t know the answer. All I know is that it’s too late to back out. Not that I want to back out. I must see her. I must know what’s wrong with her. I must understand why she’s got me tied up in knots.

We walk down long corridors for what feels like an eternity before we finally stop in front of a room. The door is closed. Zanadan turns to me. "She had her surgery last night. She is probably asleep right now and she mustn’t be woken up. I hope you understand, sir. This is in the interest of the patient."

I nod. "Loud and clear."

I wait for the doctor to turn the corner and disappear before I push open the door.

***

The room is a small one, with just one bed. I pause at the doorway, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness before stepping inside. Slowly, the dim light reveals a small figure lying there.

Sharon.

Her golden hair is splayed across the pillow. She looks almost impossibly fragile amidst the tubes and the wires. My throat tightens at the sight of her, but before I move closer, something else catches my eye.

There’s a chair next to her bed, and in it, a woman is sleeping. In the dimness of the room, I can only make out her silhouette: the curve of her shoulder, the cascade of her hair. But as I take another step forward and the dim light from the hallway falls across her face, I almost stumble back and fall on my ass.

It’s Mindy.

Mindy Williams is sleeping there.

I feel like I was kicked in the head by a horse. My legs go weak and my breath comes in short as I stare at her.

What the fuck is she doing here?

Is she…?

Of course, she is. My brain frantically scrambles for an explanation and it doesn’t take long to put two and two together. Sharon is raised by a single mom. And her surname is Williams.

Sharon is Mindy’s daughter, dickhead!

Sharon is the same little girl you saw in Walmart with Mindy!

Jesus Christ, I can’t believe it! The little girl that stirred something buried deep inside me is Mindy’s daughter! Andher mother? Her mother is right here with her! For seven grueling years, I stubbornly refused to acknowledge how fucking desperately I longed for her. And ever since I saw her in New York High, I’ve been jerking off to her memory every day like some horny teenager. And now, she is here. Sleeping right in front of me. Having no idea that I’m staring at her like some creep.

I know I should exit the room before I wake her up, but I can’t tear my eyes off her.

She looks different - more mature, but still achingly beautiful. There are new lines around her eyes, a weariness in the set of her shoulders even as she sleeps. But it's unmistakably her. And she looks fucking incredible.

As my initial shock begins to ebb, a thousand questions flood my mind. And then it hits me like a freight train.

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