Chapter 30
DEVLIN
For a moment, when Devlin opened his eyes, he thought he was back in the snow. It was freezing, and his teeth were still chattering. The room around him was dark, the soft glow of early morning creeping in through the windows, but his mind was foggy, disorientated. He rubbed his eyes, trying to piece together the events of the last few days.
Slowly, the memories came rushing back. He remembered the crash — the chaos, the biting cold, and the sheer panic that had followed. He remembered finding the research cabin, the desperate trek through the mountains, the ravine that had nearly swallowed him whole. But more than anything, he remembered the outpost, the quiet sanctuary where he’d found shelter from more than just the storm.
He remembered Darcy.
The night he’d spent with her was still vivid in his mind. The warmth of her body, the way she made him feel. They way she’d ignored his stupid note and helped him to spread his mum’s ashes. He’d only had the strength to do it because of Darcy. She’d been there for him, as steadfast as the mountain they stood on. If it hadn’t been for her, the experience would have broken him.
Then what, though? He dug into his cloudy memories, seeing the walk back down the slope, then the chopper ride, the relief of being rescued, and the joy of flying home with Darcy. He must have fallen asleep, or maybe even passed out.
He sat up, squinting into the sleepy darkness of a small room. The blinds were drawn, although beads of warm light squeezed through and pooled on the floor. There were machines everywhere, bleeping softly, and through a half-open door he could hear the unmistakable sounds of a hospital.
“Finally,” said a voice from the far corner of the room. Devlin peered into the shadows to see a woman there, nothing more than a silhouette. He broke into a smile without even realising it.
“Darcy,” he said. “You’re okay, thank goodness.”
“Darcy?” the woman said, and as he recognised the Italian accent, his temperature dropped back to dangerous levels.
The woman sashayed to the bed, the light falling on her face. Claudia was as superficially perfect as ever. Devlin shook his head.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
Claudia pouted as she perched on the side of the bed. She laid her manicured fingers on his hand and he pulled it away, gasping as the pain burned out from his broken arm. He looked down and saw it was plastered from his wrist to his shoulder.
“Careful, dear,” she said, reaching for him again, more insistently this time. “You don’t want to make it worse.”
“Claudia,” Devlin hissed, his voice as cold and hard as steel. “I asked you a question. What are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to talk to your beloved?” she asked, planting a kiss on his cheek, her lips leaving an icy imprint.
“My what ?” Devlin snorted. “You have to be kidding, right?”
He looked past her to the door, wishing that a doctor would come in. He opened his mouth to call for security, but Claudia leaned in and placed a finger on his lips. He shook her away.
“You’re being unfair,” she said, fluttering her lashes, her eyes huge. “I saw the news, and I was worried about you. As soon as I heard you were missing in the Alps, I flew here to join the search. That’s a lot for me to do, Devlin. I was working on a luxury shoot, which I had to drop to look for you.”
Devlin found that hard to believe. Claudia had never had to look for anything in her life. Born to a wealthy Italian banking family, if she’d ever lost something she’d just bought another one. It’s what she had done to Devlin, too. The moment they had broken up, she’d found herself another billionaire. So why was she here, sitting on his hospital bed as though she belonged there?
“Claudia, we’re not together,” he said, but she batted away his suggestion.
“Let’s not argue about little details,” she purred, stroking his cheek. “My petite amour . I hated the thought of you being out there alone.”
“I wasn’t alone,” Devlin growled. Claudia’s expression hardened.
“So I heard,” she said. “You were out there with some secretary. Some poor, frumpy nobody. I can’t imagine what that must have been like, stuck in a cabin with her. No wonder they had to sedate you.”
Devlin’s anger roared like an engine.
“She’s not a nobody. Her name is Darcy, and she saved my life.”
Claudia smiled. Her fingers tightly gripping his as Devlin struggled up in bed, still shivering.
“I have no idea what you want with me. Another story to sell?” he growled. “Well whatever it is, you can’t have it. I told you I never wanted to see you again. Now leave.”
“Poor Devlin,” she said, putting a hand to his forehead. “The doctors tell me you have a fever. You aren’t thinking straight.” She leaned in, that cold smile still on her face. “The truth is, I’m bored. Hunter and I didn’t work out. And because I left that shoot, I’m out of work, too, which is your fault may I add. I need us to be back together. And what better chance for you to declare your love for me again than now, when you’re front-page news.”
“What are you talking about?” demanded Devlin. “That will never, ever happen, Claudia.”
“Oh, come now,” Claudia kidded. “We had fun, didn’t we?”
There was a gentle knock at the door and it swung open to reveal an older man in a doctor’s coat, his grey-blond hair tied back in a long ponytail.
“Good morning,” he said, flicking on the light. “Nice to see you’re awake, Mr Storm. How are you feeling?”
Claudia stood up, flashing another smile at Devlin.
“The poor man is burning up,” she said. “I really should let him rest. Ciao , my beloved. I will see you soon.”
She nodded to the doctor and left the room. It was only when she’d gone that Devlin remembered to breathe. The brief exchange with Claudia had left him even more shaken than the last three days in the wilderness. He felt his heart thrashing in his chest. What was she playing at? He’d always known she was an opportunist, and a predator, too, but this was low even for her.
“Let’s check that fever,” said the doctor, prodding a thermometer into Devlin’s ear and waiting for it to beep before removing it. “Good, good. Your temperature is within the normal range — looks like you’re on the mend. How’s the arm?”
Devlin looked at the cast covering his arm. It still ached, but there must have been some heavy-duty painkillers in his system because everything felt a little fuzzy.
“It was broken in two places,” the doctor said. “It’s a good job you had the sense to splint it and then strap it up, otherwise it never would have healed. You could have lost it, Mr Storm. You’re a lucky man.”
“It wasn’t my idea to splint it,” he said. “It was Darcy’s. Do you know where she is? Darcy Wainwright?”
“The young woman you were stranded with?” the doctor asked. “I’m afraid I don’t know. She was never brought here. I think she was taken to the local hospital for treatment.”
“What? No, that’s not right,” Devlin said. “I would have paid her fees. She should have been brought here with me.”
“We had no way of running that by you, Mr Storm,” the doctor said. “I’m sorry, but we have to follow protocol and the paperwork wasn’t signed.”
Devlin cursed himself for passing out in the helicopter. How could he have been so stupid? Now Darcy was in a different hospital, in a different town. What on earth would she think of him? He glanced at his watch, which sat on the bedside table. It was almost noon — he’d been out for hours. He lifted his sheet and sat up, ready to climb out of bed, but the doctor held up his hand.
“Please, Mr Storm,” he said. “Just give yourself some time. Your body has been through a gruelling experience, and you need to rest.”
“I need to find Darcy,” he argued, feeling his head lighten at the shift in movement. “Where is she? Which hospital?”
“Please sit back, Mr Storm,” said the doctor. “I’ll find out where Miss Wainwright is and let you know. You should have asked your fiancé before she left.”
“My fiancé ?” Devlin asked, bursting into a humourless laugh. “Not even close. She’s my ex-girlfriend. Very ex. Why would she know?”
“Because she’s the one who refused to sign the paperwork allowing Miss Wainwright to accompany you for medical treatment,” the doctor said. “She said that you wouldn’t have wanted her here.”
Devlin’s fury was volcanic. He wanted to rage from the rooftops, but his spinning head was stopping him. Besides, the poor doctor didn’t deserve it, though he must have seen it in Devlin’s eyes because he took a step back.
“Please don’t worry, all Swiss hospitals are world class. She will be in good hands.” The doctor looked stoic.
“Just find out where she is,” Devlin said, his voice low and powerful. “And get me a phone. Please.”
“Mr Storm, you need to rest,” the doctor urged again.
“I don’t need to rest,” he said. “I need to know that she’s okay. I need her to know I’m okay. It’s been over five hours — she’ll be worried sick.”
The doctor sighed, looking at the floor.
“What?” asked Devlin.
“It hasn’t been five hours,” he said. “You were badly injured, you had hypothermia, you were suffering from extreme exhaustion and a fever. I’m not sure you realise just how ill you are.”
“How long?” Devlin asked, leaning forward in the bed. “How long has it been?”
“I’m sorry,” the doctor replied, looking up at Devlin. “You’ve been out for two whole days.”