on the tough streets of South Central. But at the sight of Gloria so pale and frail, fear flickered in the whites of his eyes.
“Is she going to be okay, Mr. Z?” His small, unsteady voice was a sharp contrast to his big, muscular six-foot five physique.
“Yeah,” I lied. I just fucking didn’t know. “Thanks for bringing all her things.”
“No problem, sir.”
In addition to her beauty and grooming necessities, he’d brought along several lacy negligees and teddies from her collection that Gloria’s housekeeper had packed in a small pink overnight bag. One thing, I could count on when—or should I say, if—Gloria woke up, she sure as hell wouldn’t want to be seen in a potato sack hospital gown. As the founder and head of Gloria’s Secret, the largest lingerie emporium in the world, my angel always looked the part of the erotic fantasies she sold. She had even starred in a commercial with me that I’d created for her new BDSM-inspired line, which had brought her company to new heights. The sensuous ad flashed into my head as I watched Gloria sleep and breathe. I prayed she’d be in my arms once again. And live to be the mother of our children.
I urged hard-working, emotionally drained Ty to take the rest of the day off. A man of faith, he told me he was going to his church to pray. I thanked him. That’s all anyone could do at this point. A half-hour after his departure, Kevin showed up, looking like death warmed over. In his hands was an extravagant arrangement of fragrant white lilies and roses, Gloria’s favorite flowers. He set the large crystal vase on the bureau right next to the small gift-wrapped box I’d asked Ty to bring.
“How is she doing?” he asked anxiously, slumping into an armchair next to mine beside Gloria’s bed. I brushed a few strands of loose hair off Gloria’s forehead. Her skin felt feverish beneath my fingertips. Worry ate at me.
I wish I could tell him fan-fucking-tastic, but his favorite word was a far cry from the truth. I drew in a breath and told him about Gloria’s tenuous situation. “The next twenty-four hours are going to be crucial. There was a substantial tear in her uterus, and she lost a lot of blood. They had to give her a partial hysterectomy.” My voice faltering, I continued on. The fact that Gloria might not be able to bear more children was not important to me. What terrified me was the possibility of a fatal complication. My beloved angel’s life hung in the air I breathed.
Kevin grasped my hand. His eyes watered. “Gloria’s a fighter. She’s kicked death out the door before.”
At the word death, every muscle in my body clenched. But Kevin was right. My feisty beauty was a fighter. She had once survived Boris Borofksy’s near fatal gunshot. I glanced down at the scar above her heart that peeked out from her hospital gown. A vivid reminder that Gloria controlled her destiny. If she had the will to live, she would. I had to believe that. I’d given her my heart and now I’d given her my blood. She had all of me. If I lost her, I would die too.
Changing the subject, I asked Kevin if he’d seen the babies. He shook his head and glanced down at his Mickey Mouse watch.
“Fuck. I have to get going. Gotta head over to Greystone and set up tonight’s party. Shit. I don’t want to leave.”
I squeezed his hand. “Gloria would want you to do your job. Just keep her condition under wraps.”
His lips pressed thin, he nodded. As Gloria’s trusted head of publicity, Kevin understood the impact of negative publicity—of news getting out that wouldn’t serve the company well. No one needed to know the precarious condition of Gloria Long Zander. And it would moreover hamper the spirit of the much anticipated, newsworthy event. With all the celebrities attending, I was sure Gloria wouldn’t be missed. If it was an issue, I’d work with Kevin in the morning to spin a story.
I thanked him for the beautiful, thoughtful flowers and then asked
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