High-Heeler Wonder (Killer Style 1)

Anya hushed him with an upraised palm. “The only thing you have control over is what happens next between you and Sylvie.”

And there was the rub. He already knew what happened next, and it hurt like hell. “Nothing. She never wants to see me again.”

“And so you’re going to give up just like that, huh? Not what I expected from the man who went all Jason Bourne in order to rescue her.” Anya crossed her arms over her chest, regarding him in silence for several beats before marching over to stand toe to toe with him. “I’ve seen Sylvie through several broken hearts and that idiotic pseudo-relationship with Daniel, but when she told me about you—even as pissed off as she was—she sort of…glowed. That’s never happened before.”

“She obviously hasn’t told you everything.”

“Oh, she has. And let me be the first of many to tell you that was an epically stupid move, but I understand what it’s like to be pushed to that point.”

He shoved his hands through his hair. “I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

“Regret is for people who can’t learn from their mistakes.” Anya’s face softened when he looked at her, stricken. “And don’t I know it. Look, Sylvie was worth fighting for when you thought Ivy was going to kill her. Is she any less worth fighting for now that she’s going to live?”

Again, he was without a response, his mind processing the idea.

Anya patted him on the cheek, hard, and shook her head. “We both know the answer to that is yes.”

She and Drea took off down the hall where Drea ran smack dab into Cam as he emerged from the waiting room.

“Darling, I am so sorry.” Cam turned on his most charming smile.

Drea tossed a look back at Tony. “One of yours?”

He nodded.

“Figures.” She shook her head and strutted down the hallway.

Cam whistled under his breath. “Who was that?”

“I’m hoping they were the voices of reason.” Not waiting for Cam’s response, Tony limped off toward Sylvie’s room to do the right thing for the woman he loved.

Sylvie counted ceiling tiles in her hospital room, still trying to wrap her brain around the fact that she’d almost died. Or maybe trying to avoid wrapping around it…

She hadn’t seen angels, harps, or a light at the end of the tunnel.

She’d seen Tony.

Which was even more disturbing.

Through the drugged haze, she’d felt him holding her tightly, and had fought against the sweet tide of sleep trying to pull her under. Hearing his voice had been a poignant reminder that she wanted to live. More than that, she wanted Tony.

But he was gone. Out of her life forever, just as she’d demanded.

When she’d regained consciousness in the ambulance her fathers had been with her, but not Tony. He’d brought her back from the brink, then disappeared. At the end, he’d respected what she wanted. What she’d demanded.

She should be glad.

But she wasn’t. Not the least little bit.

Oh, God, how had she been so stupid to send him away?

And why hadn’t he argued with her? Put up even a token protest?

She croaked out a moan.

“You okay, bulldog? Do you want me to get the nurse?” Henry tucked her hand into his.

Before she could answer, a knock sounded. “May I come in?”