He hated that that only seemed to make the Earl all the more exultant.
‘You’re more like me than you might think. And, as much as you might hate me, I have no doubt that one day it will be you standing where I am, and some bastard kid of yours standing where you are, staring at you with the same deep loathing.’
‘I will never have kids,’ Lukas refuted. ‘No child deserves to have your tainted blood running through its veins.’
‘You have fire, boy. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so quick to throw you out of my house all those years ago. Maybe you’re worthy of the Rockman name and title after all.’
‘I don’t need your title.’ Lukas gritted his teeth. ‘I have my own. What’s more, I worked for mine. You don’t get to claim credit for it.’
The Earl curled his lip. ‘You have a knighthood. As quaint as that is, it’s no peerage. And I blocked you in that when I refused to acknowledge your mother.’
‘Which is the only thing you recognise, isn’t it?’ Lukas disparaged. ‘Have you ever considered that one day I might find a way to prove you lied all those years ago?’
Lukas couldn’t be sure if it was the mere threat or if the Earl had begun to piece it together, but, either way, the old man looked as though he was about to lose his mind, right there in that anteroom...right up until he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
It was odd how there was no warning. No clutching of his chest. No calling out. One moment the Earl was standing in front of Lukas, and the next moment the man simply toppled to the ground as if his legs had suddenly gone from under him. For a moment Lukas could only look on, stunned. A part of him even suspected it was some new ploy by the old man. But there was just silence.
Not quite believing what was happening, Lukas dropped to his heels and reached out to check the Earl’s pulse.
There wasn’t one.
For a fraction of a second Lukas thought he might actually have considered just walking away. Just leaving this man who had caused him—and his mother, as weak as she had been—so much unnecessary pain. How many times over the years had he wished this man dead?
But then instinct cut in and, with a low curse, Lukas hurried to the door, flung it open and bellowed down the empty corridor for one of the hotel staff. Then, moving quickly back across the room, he dropped onto his knees and began chest compressions.
* * *
Oti was in the Grosvenor Wing, gritting her teeth as she greeted the guests alone, wondering if she’d already been ditched—with a cluster of sombre-looking female Z-list guests who would have loved that to have been the case—when she heard Lukas’s shout, as faint as it was in the main hall.
She wondered what it said about how tuned-in she was to her fake husband, as she slid through the oblivious crowd and hurried along an endless plushly carpeted corridor. She only knew she was heading in the right direction because a couple of members of staff were ducking into a room a little ahead of her.
Sile
ntly lamenting the weight and encumbrance of her dress’s long train, Oti surged after them.
‘Lukas? Did you...? Oh, good grief.’
He glanced up and she wished she could read the expression that flickered in his eyes when he saw her. But then it was gone, and Lukas was all business.
‘Call for an ambulance. He collapsed less than a minute ago—there was no indication.’ Lukas didn’t miss a compression. ‘He isn’t breathing, and he has no pulse.’
Oti didn’t wait to hear any more. Pushing through the dithering hotel staff, she circled the patient—only then realising the man’s identity—and knelt down on the other side to Lukas and carried out her own brief assessment.
‘I’ll do the rescue breathing if you want to continue with compressions.’ She glanced up at the still staring staff, starting with a young man. ‘Right, you go and call an ambulance now and tell them that we’ve begun CPR. Go! And you—does the hotel have a defibrillator?’
As the young man stumbled away, the girl blinked at her.
‘I need you to stop panicking and think.’ Oti kept her tone calm but firm. ‘If you don’t know, then I need you to go straight to your manager and ask. A defibrillator, understand? Also, ask if you keep shots of epinephrine. Got it? Now you need to hurry.’
She jerked her head shakily then turned and hurried out of the room. Oti could only hope that the girl could hold herself together long enough to get what they needed.
Briefly, she wondered what had been so urgent that Lukas and Andrew Rockman had been discussing it alone. Certainly without her father. But she could contemplate that later. Right now, she had to focus on working with Lukas to save the man’s life. Even if a part of her suspected the world would be a better place without the likes of the Earl of Highmount. The current one, or the son who would inherit the title if Andrew were to die.
For the next five minutes she and Lukas worked together, soon establishing a surprisingly efficient rhythm until the girl returned with the defibrillator, and what looked like a manager.
‘The ambulance is on its way, and I’ve sent someone to stand at the entrance to bring them straight here.’
‘Great.’ Oti nodded, her eyes not leaving the patient as she silently counted Lukas’s compressions. ‘Okay, turn the defib on.’