Chapter 31 - 32 Velvet Glove
I blinked at him, completely thrown off my game for a second, then kicked off my heels and shoved my feet into the slippers. I didn’t even realise my feet were hurting till then.
The soft fleece wrapped around my toes, warmth creeping up my legs and coiling somewhere stupid in my chest. My heart was punching against my ribs like it was trying to make a jailbreak.
Ashton tossed a massive blanket over my lap, covering my flimsy dress.
He leaned in slightly. ‘If you need anything, shout. I’m just taking a call over there.’
Then he disappeared towards the stairwell.
Willow and Clive Granger kept throwing side-eyes my way, their faces flickering between curiosity, doubt, and full-blown suspicion like a glitchy mood carousel.
I ignored them and watched Ashton through the glass as he leaned against the stairwell wall, lighting a cigarette while he talked on the phone.
Every few seconds, he’d tilt his head and glance my way. Like he was making sure I was still breathing. Like he was staying put for me.
By the time the sky outside started to lighten to a miserable grey, the door to the operating theatre finally slid open.
A surgeon walked out, pulling off his gloves. ‘The patient’s stable. We’re moving her to a regular ward. She might wake up in a few hours, but be careful—no more shocks, no upsetting news.’
A team of nurses wheeled Louisa past us, still unconscious, still pale as hell.
I followed, only to get body-blocked by Willow at the door.