“Okay,” I say, even though my voice shakes. “I’ll wait for their call. And then I’m on my way.”
“We’ll let the hospital know.”
“And please, if anything changes before I arrive, call me immediately.”
“Of course, Ms. Kozlov.”
I barely have time to lower the phone before it rings again. This time it’s Dr. Okafor. She confirms the hip fracture, walks me through the surgery and the risks, and asks for my consent as Anna’s guardian. My voice shakes when I give it, but I do.
By the time the call ends, they’re prepping her for the OR, and I’m promising Dr. Okafor I’ll be there as soon as I can.
I stand there in the silent kitchen with the phone still pressed to my ear long after the line goes dead.
Anna is in a hospital. Confused, in pain, surrounded by strangers in a place she doesn’t recognize. And I am over two thousand miles away on a beach, exactly where my father wanted me.
My mind spins, a frantic Rolodex of impossible options, each one worse than the last.
I could call my father. Tell him Anna fell. Ask him to let me go.
The thought barely forms before it curdles.
My father never cared about Anna. She was the help. The woman who raised his inconvenient daughter so he wouldn’t have to be bothered, and he tolerated her for exactly as long as she made his life easier. He’s only paying for her care as a way to keep me under this thumb. He is not going to hear “she’s in the hospital” and suddenly grow a conscience. He sent me here to stay put until the wedding, and a sick old woman is not going to outweigh risking an alliance he desperately needs.
Fine. Then I go without asking.
Just buy a ticket. Walk out the door and deal with the fallout later.
But the credit card in my wallet is a leash, not a key. The moment I swipe it for a plane ticket, my father will know. He’ll see the charge before the gate agent even calls my boarding group.
Do I have enough cash? Ugh. Barely over a hundred dollars. Definitely not enough for a flight to Las Vegas.
Panic claws at my throat, hot and sharp. Anna needs me. And I’m trapped.
“Nat?”
I look up. Luca is standing in the doorway, his hair damp from a shower. The concern on his face is immediate, his brow furrowed.
He crosses the room in three long strides, his hands landing on my shoulders. “Natalia, what is it? You’re pale as a ghost.”
“It’s Anna,” I choke out, the words tasting like ash. “She fell. They think she broke her hip. I have to… I have to get to Vegas.”
I pull away from him, pacing the small kitchen like a caged animal.
“I don’t have enough money for a flight. And even if I did…” I trail off, the unspoken threat of my father hanging between us.
“I’ll take you,” he says.
The words are so simple, so certain, they stop my frantic pacing cold. I turn to stare at him.
“What? How? Did you suddenly remember you have a pilot’s license and a jet stashed in a local hangar?”
“Something like that.” He doesn’t quite meet my eyes.
I stare at him, my mind catching on the impossibility of it all. “Luca, that’s not an answer.”
“I can get a plane. A private one. We can be in the air in a couple hours.”
I stare at him.
