Missing him penetrates every living cell inside me. How is he? How did he react when my plane crash didn’t hit the news? Damn my thoughts as they keep me awake. Sorry, Quinn, blame it on Damien. He kept me wide awake. It has nothing to do with the fact my mind can’t stop thinking of him. I swear my mind and I will divorce soon.
I’m ill, and it has nothing to do with my heart.
BRIA
My eyes dart to my watch, and a small smile parts my lips when at precisely seven o’clock, Quinn knocks. He notices my bloodshot eyes, and his thick eyebrows draw together but he says nothing. I dab some lipstick on my lips and turn on my heel to him.
We spend the drive surrounded by a deafening silence. When I step toward the concrete and glass building, my lungs squish together, trapping my air supply, and my knees weaken under me.
The assistant’s eyes flicker with understanding as she greets us. We bow at each other, then Quinn and I follow her to meet the hospital director, the doctor who will perform my surgery, Dr. Akio Takashima.
I plod down the gray corridors, and my stomach heaves with the stringent air of antiseptic—the hospital odor will forever remain ingrained in my nostrils. We step inside the director’s office, and I halt. He darts his squinty, sharp whiskey eyes from a stack of papers to us. The wrinkles in the corners of his eyes stretch, and he rises from his chair. He radiates calmness, and I compose myself as I let his easiness comfort me.
We say our hellos, and this time I bow to forty-five degrees, the most formal type of bow. The greeting ceremony ends, and he points toward the two chairs in front of his desk, piled with files and an empty teacup. I sit on one chair as he talks in medical terms. I’ve heard all this before—from the risks involved to the various types of surgeries there are. What I haven’t heard before is the lower risks and the chances of a longer life, with the help of the small patch that could help repair my weak muscle. Even though it is still in trial, he exudes confidence, his voice steady and pleasant as he informs us how he’ll perform a graft surgery to sew the patch on my heart after it was grown in a lab for the last two weeks from a sample of my cells.
The entire time l sit immobilized in the chair, the wooden frame digging into my spine. I can only nod while my nerves and I fight over not throwing up in the doctor’s office.
I’m assigned a private nurse, Miss Rai Nakai, and he assures us there’re just the two of them in the hospital who know my true identity.
On shaky legs, I stand. Tomorrow everything could change.
“Miss du Mont, let me show you to your room,” Miss Nakai says and points toward the right corridor. My heels click on the floor, and after we turn left, take the elevator toward the tenth floor, a spacious white wing spreads in front of me. This must be the private wing.
I slip inside my room, and a sigh parts my lips.
To my right, I peer through the door at the bathroom with its blue tiles, an oval white sink and countertop, a glass shower, and a toilet. Glancing around the main space, I see a closet on the left, and a television hangs on the wall across from my blue blanket covered bed. Next to the window rests a square wooden table.
“Here in Japan, we believe in the mind’s power and how positive thoughts can influence our lives.” Interesting concept. “Even if you don’t share this mentality, Dr. Takashima is adamant when it comes to saving his patients.”
“Thank you.” She nods, and I force my lips into a smile.
She grips the door handle and says over her petite shoulder, “Miss du Mont, you should try to sleep for a while. I’ll return to accompany you through the tests you will undergo.” She ambles away, leaving me alone but not for long.
Quinn peeks his head through the door and strides in carrying a giant bouquet of tulips, daisies, and roses in vibrant colors. The entire room brightens at once, their sweet and delicate perfume enveloping me. My eyes well up, and I murmur, “Thank you, for everything . . .”
His eyes sparkle with love. He gathers me in his arms, plants a kiss on my forehead and coos,
“Shh . . . it’s okay. You’ll be fine.”
“If tomorrow doesn’t have the outcome we expect, continue with the initial plan. I don’t want anyone to be told the truth. If I wake up, let me heal first, then I can face Damien, Alex, and my family. But not sooner.”
“Okay, sweetie.”
Night spreads itself over my window by the time I undergo all the tests, and Quinn departs to the hotel.
I pace around, not finding my rest. I sink in the bed and lay awake, my rapid breaths echoing in the silent room. I wrap my arms around me both to protect and comfort myself, my eyes darting every few minutes toward my phone sitting on the nightstand.
By two o’clock, I give in to the temptation to pick up the phone Quinn left with me and dial a number I’ve memorized by heart, although I haven’t called it in a long, long time.
Anxiety grips me. My heart thumps in my chest while I nibble on my bottom lip. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t the honeyed voice of Monica greeting me, and my heart scatters in my chest.
“Mr. du Sky’s phone. This is Monica, how can I help you?”
There’s a second when I want to end the call, but I’m no coward, especially not in front of the one person who caused my greatest misery. I straighten my shoulders and say, “Hello, Monica, it’s Bria.” She gasps but catches herself the next second.
“Well, hi, Bria. You were the last person I thought would call Damien. Have you misdialed?”
I ball my hands into fists beside me and conjure my most unfazed voice. “It’s Damien I wanted to call.”
A surprised cry escapes her mouth, and she adds, her voice dropping casually, “You’re truly a workaholic. I hear you took a vacation. Enjoy it. Damien and I have everything under control here. You can trust me.”
“Good, then,” I counter, irritation lacing my words.
“I can’t wait for you to return, so we can also take a well-deserved vacation and enjoy us. We practically live in the office . . .” She pauses, and I shut my eyes on a self-preservation instinct more than anything. “Damien’s in the shower. Things got heated in here.”
The pain slices through my heart and even deeper into my core. I crumble inside, and my knees hit the floor. My body shivers, and I clench the phone in my hands. I end the call, not giving her another occasion to humiliate me.
I cry out my pain, bury my face in my hands, and sob. I’m so incredibly stupid and blind and just a damn fool for believing him.
A few hours later, Quinn enters the room, but his smile fades the second he notices me laying in a fetal position with a swollen face still sobbing.
“Bria, what’s wrong?” He drops next to me and pulls me into his arms. My mouth opens and shuts, but no words form. Quinn presses the button above my bed to get the nurse, who rushes in moments later. Her eyes widen, but she blames my nerves for the state I’m in and offers me a sedative. I swallow it as if it were life itself. It numbs me, and I murmur the name of my devastation. “Damien.”
He threads his hands through his hair and deadpans. “I expect nothing nor demand a thing from him, but I expect and demand a lot from you.” His voice jolts me from my comatose state, and I fist the sheets, while his voice drops to gravelly with every breath. “Promise me I’ll never have to see you like this again.” He sinks on the edge of the bed and clasps his hand over mine. “For the love of God, cut this abnormal connection between you two and focus on life instead, yours to begin with.”
“I’m sorry.”
He embraces me and pats my back. “All I want is for you to be healthy and happy.”
“What would I do without you?” I sniffle, and my shoulders sag.
“This isn’t the right moment for you to soften on me. Be tough and come out of the surgery. Afterward, we fly back to Switzerland.”
I snap my head to his, my forehead creasing, my heart speeding up. “Why? What? Has something happened?”
“Calm down. No, nothing happ
ened, but that’s where the treatment center is where you will stay. A team of experts will be there for you around the clock. The psychiatrist I spoke to seemed confident that in two months, and with regular follow-ups, there would be a full recovery of your depression.”
I narrow my eyes at him, “But it’s in Zürich. They could easily find me.”
“No one will find you there. Privacy is one of their golden rules, plus who would think to search for you in your hometown? It doesn’t seem logical when all you’ve wanted was to leave it all behind you.”
Our conversation halts when the nurse appears. I kiss Quinn on the cheeks and gulp, “I’m scared, Dad.”
“Shh . . . I’ll wait for you to wake up. Where’s my smile?” His features ease as we both remember the moment the roles were reversed, and I waited for him to wake up from his surgery.
“When I come out, I’ll welcome you with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. Only then.”
“See you soon, sweetie.”
Strangers in blue scrubs roll my bed toward the operating room as my eyes glance up at the artificial lights embedded in the ceiling. My heart races and sweat covers my forehead. One could assume I’m used to the entire process, but this time it terrifies me. The wish to live awakens all survival instincts in me.
Strange, what one night with a man and the fight of another one accomplished.
We reach the operating room, and shivers run down my back. The nurse caresses my forehead, her smile easing me. She dips her chin and says, “You have an amazing father.”
My teeth clench together, but I eventually answer, “Yes, I do.” My lips curve into a small smile, forgetting for one moment what’s about to happen. The doctor, his assistant, nurses, and the anesthesiologist circle me, eyeing me with calming and reassuring expressions. I close my eyes. The doctor places his hand on my forehead at the same time a needle pokes my vein with the anesthesia.
“Breathe in and out. We’ll do the rest.”
My lips quiver and I nod through tears streaming down my face. A mask slides over my mouth as the anesthesiologist asks me to count. By the time I reach eight, weightlessness overtakes me. The last image my mind conjures is of Damien’s hand stretching toward mine. Tears well up in my eyes. My name falling from his lips, a curse of endless love.
I succumb to blackness.
DAMIEN
I run my fingers through my hair, and slam my fist into my office desk, the vibration rattling my laptop and phone. I groan and slump in my ergonomic chair, glaring at the Thames. Its constant flow reminds me everything keeps moving and tells the story of a never-ending cycle of change. Such a contradiction to my life, and heart, which halted the moment she left me.
The rain droplets soak the floor-to-ceiling windows, the gray, angry, impenetrable clouds are a perfect painting of my insides, and I clasp my head between my hands.
It’s been two months, an excruciating sixty days that transformed me into a volcano, soon to erupt. My calm pretense will vanish quickly. Lashing out on anyone has become a fix to my brooding insides. Concentration evaporated and work long lost its calming effect on me. I’m thankful I made only one right decision during this time—to come back to London and hide the storm brewing inside me—while my family lives unaware and supposes Bria is on vacation.
I jump from my chair and pace, my shoes thumping against the floor. I cram my fists into my pockets, my jaw set. Is she so coldhearted to push me aside, not even once considering calling me? Am I demanding so fucking much? A brief hello, or, I just wanted to say I survived the surgery would’ve sufficed, but no. Why would she regale me with informing me when tormenting me seems to please her more, instead?
I regret trusting her enough to let her leave and growl at my stupidity. I slap my hand against the window and rest my head on my arm. She must be alive, though, the only thought easing the pain in me to a bearable extent. Our connection keeps me sane. My heart responds to hers beating, but I’ve no clue where she hides. The best private detectives I’ve employed all stammer and lift their shoulders—they can’t find her.
Desperate, I pick up my phone and press call to the number of the one man I hold responsible for this mess we’re in. All my high-profile detectives came up with was Mr. Hope’s cell phone number, nothing more. It’s time he answers, and he does on the third ring. I shout, “Where is she?”
“Mr. du Sky, I didn’t expect you to last this long. Although, when it comes to you, it’s hard to make the right assumptions. Hello to you too.”
Annoyance flares in his voice while I grit my teeth.
“Mr. Hope, I am not in the mood for false pretenses and pleasantries. Where is she?”
“Right back in business, I see, but I can’t give you the answer you request. You lost your chance of ever gaining an answer from me.”
“What does that even mean?” I slump into my chair and throw my head back.
“It means I have to protect her. I don’t think you’re worthy of either her or her love for you. You had your chance.”
I drag my elbow on the desk, rest my head in my palm while my temples pound in my head and groan.
“I couldn’t chain her to the bed, now could I?”
On the other end, he swallows a grunt.
“I don’t blame you for letting her leave, but for whatever you two talked about shortly before her surgery.”
I spring to my feet, alarm bells thundering in my ears. What’s he talking about? “I haven’t spoken to her since the day she left me in that hotel room, hoping she would make the right decision, and no person on this earth can keep me away from her. Only Bria, no one else, so we understand each other.”
He must be crazy to think he can keep me away from her. I snort. But isn’t that what he has been doing for months? Frustration oozes from me, and my breaths speed up.
“I must have misunderstood her then.” He cackles his pitiful attempt of an apology to him rendering a false judgment.
I rub my temples, and my voice lowers to gruff. “Did she say we talked? I would not forget if she called me.”
“Let me assure you, Mr. du Sky, Bria only lied to protect you, but with certainty, she wouldn’t lie to me.”
I grip the phone between my fingers and press it to my mouth. “I’ve known her my entire life, so don’t pretend to know her better.”
“Of course, but do you know the person she became in your absence? I witnessed a slow, agonizing process of disease and numbness. Still, she remained beautiful and strong.”
“You kept her away,” I growl.
“No, I kept her safe and alive. I gave her an environment she found acceptable to live in. I’m aware of what both you and your families must think of me. A part of me sympathizes with you, but I was busy dealing with Bria’s needs and not feeling guilty over something she chose. I’ve cared for and given her a home. Don’t paint me as a guilty or bad person here.”
I swear I’ll beg, I’ll put my pride aside and do it as it seems to be my only chance with this man. My head drops, my shoulders sag. “Do you want me to beg then? Because I will, just tell me, please.”
“Mr. du Sky, I appreciate your effort, but I won’t change my mind. It’s for the best.”
I slam my fist into the wall with my head leaning over my outstretched arm, desperation crawling inside me, building a castle of shattered dreams.
“Why, dammit? Is my pain so enjoyable for you? Let me ask you something, Mr. Hope, as it seems you hold all the answers. Have you known a love so deep it flows through your veins instead of blood? Do you know the devastation the woman you love causes when she leaves you with nothing except a pain so big it envelops your world? Do you have the slightest idea of what it is like to come alive in only one pair of arms? Do you know what it’s like to wake up to guilt and remorse with only a glimpse of hope and trust in a love you don’t deserve but still beg for it?”
My heart rate spikes up. My breath turns heavy with the agony lacing my confession. On the other line, the defeati
ng silence lingers.
“Do you know how it is when you feel dead inside and wander through this world knowing that was it? Your future will be blank because the reason for your existence isn’t there anymore. I wake up each day only to be reminded that she’s not by my side for me to love. Do you know how a man feels when he could not protect the one person he swore he would protect until his last breath?
“Do you know how it feels to discover the one you love may die because of your actions, and although you would do anything for her, you can’t undo your wrongs? So, for once, be selfless enough and let her go.”
I shut my eyes, trapping the tears gathering behind my lashes, my voice turning dead. “Don’t judge me and don’t pretend to be the only one to know what love is. I was a protagonist in it all. I paid the cost of such a love in soreness and pain. Still, I would sacrifice this world for another minute with her. She’s not the only mad one. Our love can either be the most beautiful thing this world has ever witnessed or exactly the opposite. I would embrace either of them in love or in pain as long as we are together.”
By the end of my confession, my body shudders and my throat dries. I’m on the brink of madness, my control slipping through my facade. The pause stretches while pain tears at my limbs.
“I was once married. Since her, I’ve had no more romantic involvements. I may understand what you said, but I repeat, Mr. du Sky, you caused it yourself. There’s no logical argument you can give me to change my mind.”
I rake my fingers through my hair, rage scraping at my throat. “It’s love. Since when is love logical, dammit? I haven’t talked to her. Do you think I would still be at my office asking myself every second of every day if she’s alive and where she is?” This man exasperates me. Is he the fucking love police? Why doesn’t he believe me? She never called me. I had that damn phone glued at my side every minute . . . except for, but no, it couldn’t now, could it? Fuck, not again! My feet give up, and I collapse on the couch. I left it on my desk not expecting someone to come inside while I took a cold shower to wake up after continued sleeplessness. I hunch myself up, and with one hand, I smash everything standing on my office table.
Healing Love: A Billionaire Romance (Forever Us Book 2) Page 2