Too Late For Regret, Mr. Morrison

Julian didn't answer her question immediately. He simply handed her a blanket from the seat back and told the driver to hurry.

He used his name to bypass the emergency room. Within twenty minutes, Carmen was in a private VIP suite on the top floor, a fresh IV of lactated Ringer's hanging from the pole above her. The dexamethasone was already working, clearing some of the fog from her mind.

A doctor Julian knew came in to draw blood for the toxicology panel. Julian stood by the window, making quiet phone calls, effectively blocking the door with his presence.

When the doctor left, Julian walked over to her. He looked at her pale face, then at the thin hospital gown that did nothing to keep out the chill of the air conditioning.

He unbuttoned his suit jacket and slipped it off his shoulders. He draped it over her like a shawl. The heavy wool was warm, smelling of his cologne and expensive fabric.

Carmen stiffened. She tried to shrug it off. "I don't need-"

"Leave it," Julian said softly. His eyes flicked to the door. "We need to look like allies."

Carmen understood. If Kian came looking for her, seeing her wrapped in Julian Thorne's jacket would send a very specific message.

She pulled the jacket tighter around her shoulders.

They went into the hallway to wait for the test results. Carmen insisted on getting the report herself as soon as possible and wouldn't allow anyone else to handle it. Julian approached her, his hand hovering around her waist, and guided her to the waiting area.

The VIP floor was quiet. The walls were paneled in warm wood, the floors covered in thick carpet that muffled their footsteps.

The elevator at the end of the hall chimed.

The doors slid open. Kian Morrison stepped out, followed closely by Marcus Holloway. Kian was still in the same rumpled suit from earlier, a dark bruise forming on his jaw from where the bodyguard had hit him.

He looked up and saw them.

Carmen, pale and fragile, wrapped in the unmistakable, custom-made jacket of Julian Thorne. And Julian, standing inches away from her, his posture radiating possession.

Kian suddenly stopped in his tracks. His fingers trembled.

The prey that had been held firmly in their grasp was now slipping out of control.

His eyes moved from Carmen's face to the jacket, then slowly up to Julian's impassive one. The air in the hallway seemed to drop ten degrees.

"Carmen Blair," Kian said, his voice vibrating with a lethal quiet. "You really don't waste any time, do you?"

He started walking toward them, his long strides eating up the distance. His face was a mask of fury and humiliation.

Julian didn't move. He simply shifted his weight, placing his body slightly in front of Carmen's. "You're on private property, Morrison. Leave."

"Shut up," Kian snarled, his eyes only for Carmen. "You sign the papers this morning, and by the afternoon you're playing the victim for my biggest competitor? How long has this been going on?"

Carmen felt a headache building behind her eyes. "Kian, you're causing a scene."

"A scene?" He laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "You violated the morality clause! You betrayed me!"

"You poisoned me!" Carmen shot back, stepping out from behind Julian. "I have the blood work to prove it!"

"That was for your own good! To keep you calm!" Kian yelled, his control snapping. "Because you're insane! You're a lying, cheating-"

"Take it back," Julian said, his voice slicing through the hallway.

Kian turned his rage on Julian. "Or what? You think you can buy her? She's just a cheap-"

Kian didn't finish the sentence. He lunged forward, his fist pulled back, aimed directly at Julian's smug face.