I got to my knees on the seat in order to take his face in my hands. His eyes were squinted defensively but the color was pure and velvety with sadness.
“If it wasn’t completely callous of us, I would demand to move in with you this very second and take out an ad on page six of the Times so that everyone in the entire city would know it,” I said.
Sinclair’s corresponding grin was so large that I could have counted every single one of his pearly white teeth. “I love you.”
“I love you. And I’m going to miss you the second we get inside that God forsaken hospital,” I admitted.
Sin ran his knuckles down my cheek and lifted the hair from my neck to swing it behind my shoulder. I tilted my head to give him access to my throat. The pads of his fingers pressed gently against my fluttering pulse while his other hand slid up my bare thigh, under my skirt, right to the edge of my panties. We both felt the increase in my heart rate.
“Your body and soul, your very heartbeat are mine, Giselle. Remember that even when I’m across the room from you, pretending otherwise. I will still feel every hop and skip of this pulse, feel every emotion that plucks at this chest and I will remember every single one so that I can console you properly later.” He laughed at the flush of arousal that I could feel blooming under my skin. “Such a dirty girl, you know what I meant.”
“I do,” I said before leaning over to nip his strong chin between my teeth. “I was just hoping you would also console me physically.”
His chuckle was deep and smoky as he gripped my chin and brought his lips against mine. “That goes without saying.”
The driver pulling in front of the hospital and knocking lightly at the partition interrupted our searing kiss. I clutched at Sinclair, my nails digging into the quilted muscles of his back, my lips sucking hard at his, for one desperate moment before I pulled away.
“Let’s go see Cosima,” he said, reminding me gently why we were here in the first place.
I was up and out of the car in less than a heartbeat.
It was my first time in a hospital. Growing up, the hospital was almost as bad as the police station. No one went because it meant having to disclose why you were injured and in Napoli, home of the Camorra, death that stemmed from tattling was worse than any other fate.
The whir of equipment and the faint shush of Crocs shuffling across the laminate floor immediately disturbed me. I didn’t like the pressurized silence, the forced smiles the nurses gave me as I passed through the lobby, up the elevator and into the trauma ward. Everything was white or beige, sterile and chemically scented. The antithesis of Cosima.
Sinclair wasn’t with me, opting to wait downstairs for a few minutes so that it wouldn’t seem suspicious that we had arrived together. I understood the need for duplicity but I wished fervently that he were beside me, his cool control like a balm to my flustered spirit.
I rounded the corner of the nurse’s station, about to ask which room Cosima occupied, when I caught sight of a tall, dark and handsome man emerging from behind a drab curtain.
“Sebastian,” I called out, too loudly, too desperate for the muted ambiance of the hospital ward.
By the time he turned around, I was already barreling into his arms. He caught me in a death grip, squeezing so hard it was hard to breath. I relished the sensation.
“Bambina, bambina,” he murmured over and over into my hair.
It took me a moment to realize that he was trembling beneath my embrace, that under his spicy cologne he smelled like stale sweat and cigarettes. Things were bad whenever Seb picked up his smoking habit.
“Let me look at you,” I said, gently extracting myself from his arms.
He kept hold of my hands but allowed enough distance for me to observe his appearance. My heart tightened painfully as I noted his grimy, tousled hair and the deep purplish trenches beneath his glassy eyes. He looked incredibly ill, as if Death himself stalked his every move. He may as well have, I figured, because if Cosima didn’t pull through, I really couldn’t see Sebastian surviving without her.
“You look like shit.”
A glimmer of amusement flared in his gold eyes. “You look more beautiful than I have ever seen you.”
I’m happy, I wanted to say but didn’t. Instead, I shrugged and tugged him by the hand closer to the room he had just left.
“Tell me what happened. Mama only had time to tell me that Cosima was in some sort of accident and that she was in the ICU.”