Bought A Gigolo, Got A Billionaire CEO

Alexis stared at the glowing screen. The caller ID displayed the main number for New York-Presbyterian Hospital. Her stomach dropped. A cold sweat broke out across the back of her neck. She pressed the green button and brought the phone to her ear. "Hello?" she whispered. "Is this Alexis Sweet?" a frantic female voice asked over the line. "Your father, August Mills, was just brought into the ER. He jumped from the roof of his office building. You need to get here right now." The phone slipped from Alex's numb fingers and landed heavily on the thick floor mat. All the air vanished from the car. Alexis couldn't breathe. Her chest seized, and violent tremors racked her entire body. Jarrett saw the color drain completely from her face. He leaned forward instantly, scooping the phone off the floor. He pressed it to his ear just in time to hear the dial tone. He looked at Alexis. Her eyes were wide, unblinking, staring at nothing. Jarrett didn't ask questions. He kicked the back of Bruno's seat. "New York-Presbyterian. Now. Don't stop for anything." The Maybach's engine roared to life. The massive car surged forward, throwing Alexis back against the leather seat. Bruno slammed his foot on the gas, blowing through three red lights in a row, the tires screeching violently around the corners. The interior of the car was dead silent, save for the sound of Alexis's shallow, ragged breathing. She gripped the seatbelt across her chest, her knuckles white, tears spilling silently down her cheeks. Jarrett reached across the console. His large, warm hand clamped over her icy, trembling fingers. He squeezed tightly, anchoring her to reality. The car slammed to a halt directly in front of the brightly lit emergency room doors. Alexis shoved the door open before the car even fully stopped. She threw herself out into the cold air. Her legs, weak from shock, gave out the second her foot hit the concrete steps. She pitched forward, her knees slamming hard into the rough stone. The skin tore, blood instantly welling up. Jarrett was out of the car in a flash. He grabbed her by the waist, hauling her up against his side. He half-carried, half-dragged her through the sliding glass doors into the blinding white light of the ER. Alexis pushed away from him, sprinting down the linoleum hallway toward the flashing red light above the trauma room. Just as she reached the doors, the red light snapped off. The heavy doors swung open. A surgeon walked out, pulling off a blood-soaked surgical mask. He looked at the small group of people waiting and slowly shook his head. The world tilted on its axis. Alexis's knees buckled. She collapsed onto the cold, hard floor, all the strength leaving her bones. A piercing, guttural scream ripped through the hallway. Harriette, Alexis's mother, sprinted from the waiting area. Her hair was wild, her face twisted in absolute agony. Alexis forced herself up onto her hands and knees, reaching out, wanting to hold her mother, wanting to share the unbearable grief. Harriette didn't hug her. She lunged forward and shoved Alexis violently in the chest. Alexis fell backward. Before she could process the rejection, Harriette swung her arm. Her palm connected with the exact same spot Carlos had hit earlier. The crack of the slap echoed down the quiet corridor. Alexis's head snapped to the side. Her ear rang with a high-pitched whine. "You did this!" Harriette shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at Alexis's face. "You and your filthy divorce! The scandal ruined the company! You killed your father!" Patients and nurses in the hallway turned to stare. Whispers broke out. Alexis sat on the floor, clutching her burning cheek. The physical pain was nothing compared to the sensation of her heart being ripped out of her chest. She couldn't speak. The guilt her mother projected onto her felt like a physical weight crushing her lungs. From the shadows of the hallway, the temperature plummeted. Jarrett stepped forward. His eyes were pitch black, radiating a lethal, silent fury. He walked directly in front of Alexis, his broad back forming an impenetrable wall between her and the staring crowd. He looked down at Harriette. He didn't say a word, but his stare was a physical threat, promising violence if she moved another inch. Jarrett bent down. He ignored Alexis's weak protests, sliding one arm under her knees and the other behind her back. He lifted her off the floor effortlessly, holding her tight against his chest. Behind them, the trauma room doors opened again. Two nurses wheeled out a gurney. A crisp white sheet covered the body from head to toe.