The woman lay half-curled on the chaise longue.
Delicate. Frail.
Her face had gone entirely pale.
Nicholas watched her for a long moment, then turned and shot the doctor a vicious glare.
“You call this nothing serious? If your two eyeballs don’t work, dig them out and sew them on your lab coat as buttons.”
The doctor wiped at his sweat.
“I… I can prescribe something to calm her nerves.”
“Get out.”
The doctor bolted with his medical kit.
With Nicholas simmering like that, every servant in the room kept their heads down, silent as mice, wishing they could vanish.
Evelyn tilted her head, looking up at him.
When he was angry, every line of his face sharpened, his jaw tightening, features growing more defined and severe. He looked violent, but it only made his already striking looks
