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“Where to?” Willow asks as I open the car door for her.
“Our reservation is at George.”
Her eyebrows rise again. “How long have you had this planned? That place is impossible to get into.”
I grin. “Not for me.” She rolls her eyes as I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her to me, my gaze dipping to the swell of her breasts. “Although I admit I am not sure I’m going to be okay with every single man in the place ogling you.”
“Well,” she starts, drawing back a little, her tone teasing. “We could just go back to the hotel and order room service. You can peel the dress off me while we wait.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Why not?” she asks, sliding one hand between us and making me groan.
“I’m not sure that’s proper behavior for a proper young lady.”
“Maybe you should spank me.”
I tug her to me, hard now as I inhale the subtle scent of her signature perfume and squeeze her ass. “Maybe I will.” I’m about to kiss her when my cell phone rings. I’d ignore it except that it’s Bec’s ringtone, and something tells me I should answer.
I draw back, Willow clearly disappointed as I pull the phone out of my pocket.
“Bec?”
“Azrael,” she starts, crying.
“Bec, what’s the matter?” I bark, the heat running through my veins just moments ago ice now.
“It’s Grandmother.” Her voice trembles and it sounds like she drops the phone, but then my brother comes on the line.
“Azrael. Gran’s in the hospital.”
“What?” I ask, looking at Willow who is staring at me.
“We found her when we got home. She was unresponsive.”
“How? Where the hell was everyone?” We have a full-time staff.
“She must have dismissed them for the night. We found her at the bottom of the stairs.”
“Is she awake?”
“No.”
“Shit. We’re on our way.”
“What’s happened? Is Bec okay?” Willow asks urgently.
“She’s fine. It’s Salomé. She’s at the hospital.”
“What?”
“I need to get there.” I signal to one of the guards. “I’ll have them take you home.”
She shakes her head. “No. I’m coming with you.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I’m coming with you, Azrael,” she states firmly.
“Fine.” She gets into the car, and I let the guards know about the change of plans. Guilt gnaws at me as we ride in weighty silence toward the hospital.
“It’s not your fault, you know that, right?” Willow asks as we pull into the lot.
I don’t answer. I knew she wasn’t feeling well the last few nights. I should have been more patient with her, shouldn’t have left her alone.
“Azrael,” Willow says once I kill the engine. I turn to her. She touches my face. “It’s not your fault. You do know that, right?”
“Let’s go in,” I say. I tell the guards to wait for us in the lobby, and Willow hurries to keep up with me. As soon as I enter, a woman from the reception desk comes to greet us and takes us up to my grandmother’s room where Emmanuel and Bec are waiting. Bec is crying, and Emmanuel’s forehead is creased with worry.
“How is she?” I ask as Willow takes Bec into her arms and hugs her.
Before Emmanuel can answer, the door opens and a doctor steps out. We all turn to him.
“Your grandmother is awake,” the doctor says, and relief washes through me. But he’s quick to put up a hand, and from the look on his face, there’s bad news to come. “She isn’t well. And she still refuses treatment.”
“Treatment?” I ask, glancing at my brother.
The doctor looks at me then at Emmanuel. He clears his throat, clearly surprised we don’t know what he’s talking about. “You’re Azrael?”
I nod. “What treatment?”
“She’s asking to see you.”
“Doctor,” I start, and he glances at the chart.
“You should go in, Azrael,” he says. “Talk to her. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He walks away, and I meet Willow’s eyes over Bec’s head. She’s cautious, her expression guarded.
I take a deep breath in and walk into my grandmother’s hospital room.
“How was your date?” Salomé asks before the door has even fully closed behind me. She looks smaller, somehow diminished in the hospital bed, wearing the blue gown with an IV dripping something into her veins.
“Grandmother. I’m glad you’re all right.”
“Are you?”
“Of course I am. Don’t be ridiculous.”
She snorts.
“What treatment is the doctor talking about?”
She pushes herself up to a seat, and I see the effort it takes. I hurry to adjust the pillow.
“Don’t pretend to care about me, Azrael. Not when this is your doing.”
I draw in a tight breath and tell myself to calm down. The woman collapsed while all alone in that house. She must feel like we’ve all abandoned her.
“Grandmother, what treatment?”
She looks up at me, folds the arm without the IV over her stomach and I see the jutting of bone at her wrist, the blue lines of veins over spotted, old skin.
