STOLEN DESIRES
Early the next morning, Dr. Dominic Sinclair was ready to check on his cousin before attending to his remaining patients. Pacing down the quiet corridor of the VIP wing, he pushed against the double doors of Lowin Vance's ward but the door didn't budge. It was firmly locked from the inside. Dominic's jaw tightened. He snapped his head around to glare at the two private guards standing by the threshold. "Why the hell is this door locked?" The guards looked completely exhausted. After spending a torturous night listening to the muffled, passionate sounds of Lowin Vance through the thick wood, they were practically praying for the morning shift to relieve them. "Mr. Vance locked it himself, sir," one guard muttered, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. "He explicitly ordered no interruptions." The
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