Page 133 of Romancing His Heart

Loki

“Ineed to speak to Dr. Camden,” I yell for the twentieth time. Why the fuck won’t anyone get Emory for me? I need to find Sloane.

“Mr. Kane, I told you. She’s with a patient. I’ve already paged her. You’re her next stop. Please, try to calm down.”

“Nepotism at its finest. We won’t tell if you don’t.” Dexter’s cheerful baritone echoes in the hall.

“Dexter,” I shout. My voice is hoarse from the effort.

He ducks his head in the room a second later. “What the hell, man? Are you trying to wake the dead?”

“Where—”

“The yelling is not cool, Loki,” Julia scolds.

Trevor enters right behind her, and the three of them start folding up the bed next to me.

“What are you doing? I—”

“Glad your lungs are working, dude, but some poor schlep out here just dropped a tray of piss because you startled him with your uncouth ways.” Preston swaggers into the room, followed by Lanie.

“Where is—”

“Preston, help us get this out of here,” Dex calls.

“On it.”

“Guys. What the fuck? Guys!” I yell again, but everyone keeps moving about the room as if I’m not here. Sucking in as much air as my body will allow, I let my temper fly. “Stop moving. Where the fuck is Sloane? I …” The words die on my lips as Emory backs into the room, dragging a bed behind her.

“I guess that answers the question of him remembering you,” Sloane’s sister, Eli, quips.

“What? Why wouldn’t I remember her? Sloane?”

Emory wheels the bed into place next to me, and I see my Sloane, my Red. With a tear-stained face, she watches me. I see the fear and the hesitation in her eyes, and I lose it.

“Get me up. Emory, get these damn cords off of me before I rip them out.”

“Loki, you, you can’t. You need to stay still.”

“Get me into her fucking bed right now, or I’ll do it myself.”

“He means it, Ems. Tell me what you need me to do, I’ll help,” Preston offers.

“But, the hospital has rules. I—”

“For crying out loud, Emory. Haven’t you learned, sometimes, it’s okay to let money make the rules. This, right here, is one of those times.”

“I’ll start making the calls,” Dexter sighs. “This hospital board is probably ready to quit because of us, you know?”

“Whatever, we donated six million dollars to their new research facility to bend the rules when I almost died. If they want to keep the donations coming in, they will shut their faces.”

“Preston, I work here,” Emory hisses.

“And you’re a damn good doc, honey. But, sometimes, you have to put away the doctor hat and just be Mrs. Westbrook. This, right here, is one of those times.” Preston grins. I’m pretty sure he will be in the doghouse for that comment, but Emory sighs and steps in next to me anyway.

“Rich people problems.” Eli smirks.

“Welcome to the chaos,” we all say in unison.