She twirled before me, the off-white petticoat of her dress flaring around her like a blossoming flower. Pink ribbons fluttered with each spin, catching the soft candlelight.
“Isn’t it pretty?” she asked, eyes shining.
I clapped my hands. “So pretty!”
As my gaze lifted, it met Malik’s. His dark, piercing stare sent a rush of warmth through me, a swirl of sensations unfurling deep in my abdomen. I quickly looked away, focusing on Emily instead.
She clutched her stomach with a groan. “I think I’m going to throw up again.”
Malik crouched in front of Rosie, his tone gentle. “Sweetness, why don’t you play with the new toys I got you?”
Rosie pouted. “I want to stay with you, Olivia, and Emily.”
He smiled, brushing a strand of curls from her face. “And we want to be with you, too. But give us a moment, hmm?” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
She beamed up at him with a resigned sigh before skipping out of the room.
I shook my head in quiet wonder. The way Malik interacted with Rosie—so patient, so naturally affectionate—was a side of him I never grew tired of seeing.
Another groan from Emily snapped me back to the moment.
“Where’s Giulia?” I asked, scanning the room. Emily’s pallor had worsened, and I prayed she wouldn’t vomit all over her bedding.
Right on cue, Giulia returned, a fresh basin in hand. She shoved it toward Emily just in time.
As Emily retched, Malik’s brow creased with concern. Without hesitation, he turned to Giulia.
“Fetch me the doctor at once.” He snapped his fingers.
Giulia hurried from the room, moving with the brisk energy of a startled bird.
“Oh no, not a doctor,” Emily groaned.
I searched for something to wipe her face and spotted a small towel crumpled on the floor. Grabbing it, I gently dabbed at her mouth, brushing back a few damp strands of hair from her clammy forehead.
“I insist. The matter is decided,” Malik said, his tone brooking no argument. “He should be here shortly.”
He stood before us, hands on his hips, his presence commanding but not exactly comforting.
Minutes dragged by in tense silence. Then, the distant clatter of hooves broke through the stillness.
I strode to the window, pulling back the curtains. Outside, an elegant black carriage rolled into the circular driveway, its polished wood gleaming under the late afternoon sun. The manicured grounds stretched far in every direction and were immaculately kept—Malik’s estate was nothing short of a palace.
A slender man, dressed neatly and wearing spectacles, stepped down from the carriage, a black satchel in hand. He moved swiftly, disappearing beneath the awning as he went inside.
Malik turned and left the room, his footfalls confident as he went to greet the physician.
Moments later, he returned, the bespectacled man following closely behind. The doctor’s intelligent gaze swept across the room before settling on Emily.
“So, you are the patient, my dear?” The doctor strode toward the bed, his tone gentle yet probing.
“Yes,” Emily rasped.
He gave a small bow. “I am Dr. Tarantino.”
Setting his satchel down, he placed the basin of putrid vomit aside with practiced indifference.
“I’m Emily,” she croaked.
