The car didn’t turn toward the penthouse.
Elena noticed the moment the driver took a different route, heading deeper into the medical district instead of the residential high-rises. She turned her head on Alexander’s lap, breath still uneven from the slow thrust of his fingers inside her.
“We’re not going home?”
“No.” His voice was calm, but the hand between her thighs never stopped moving—two fingers sliding in and out with deliberate wet sounds that filled the quiet back seat. “I made calls this afternoon while you were at your desk. The top oncologist in the city agreed to see you tonight. Privately. No waiting room. No paperwork that leaves a trail.”
Elena’s stomach tightened. The pleasure still coiling low in her belly warred with the sudden cold weight of reality.
“Alexander—”
