Chase, Zara - Tigers' Temptation [Impulse 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (15 page)

“Not much point in having longevity if it kills us before our time.”

Mikael placed his hands firmly on Philo’s shoulders. “Try to understand, lover.”

“Oh, I understand all right.” Philo wrenched his shoulders free and turned toward the door. “You’re gonna do this, no matter what I say.”

“No, I haven’t committed myself to anything yet.”

“Perhaps not,” Philo said softly, “but you will. I guess that tells me all I need to know about your feelings for me.”

He let himself out of the room, closing the door gently behind him.

“Oh, shit!” he heard Mikael say.

* * * *

Layla woke up alone. She couldn’t believe how soundly she’d slept, or how late it was. Today was the most important day of her life. The day when Mikael would look at Amy’s records and make a life-and-death decision about her daughter’s future. How could she possibly have overslept? She stretched full length in the comfortable bed, missing the guys, wondering how long they’d been up.

“Probably got stuff to do in the Institute,” she told the ceiling.

She’d really hoped that they would wake her up that morning in the traditional way and finally fuck her properly. What they’d done last night had been amazing, but it had left her gagging for more. For the real deal. For the feel of those glorious cocks—one, or even both of them at once—penetrating her willing body. She died a little inside when she realized what their prompt departure had to mean. They simply didn’t want her that way and were trying to let her down lightly.

Except, if they weren’t interested in her, why had they played with her last night? They were as much into it as she was—no question. Still, she got their message, loud and clear, and wouldn’t embarrass herself or them by coming on to them again.

“Get over yourself,” she said, throwing back the covers and heading for their shower. “All I care about is Amy.”

Liar
,
said a little voice at the back of her head.

And it was a lie. For the first time in six years she was thinking the unthinkable. She’d found a man—no, two men—with whom she felt comfortable enough to form a relationship. She cared about them. Mikael—his previously taciturn attitude so at odds with the relaxed, smiling Mikael—who’d blossomed when she won his trust. He was such an intelligent, drop-dead-gorgeous man who tried to do some good with his unique skills, requiring no public acclaim or recognition for his actions. Philo, oh-so-handsome, charming Philo with his laid-back attitude, godlike physique, and spellbinding lithe grace.

Yes, she was definitely falling for them both.

Only problem was, they’d made it crystal clear that they didn’t feel the same way about her.

Sighing, Layla dressed in jeans and a sleeveless top and wondered what she was supposed to do next. Should she go to the Institute in search of them, or wait for them to come to her? The question was answered for her when she entered the sitting room and found the table laid up for breakfast—for one. There was yogurt, fresh fruit, juice, toast, and coffee, and a note from Mikael saying he’d be back in an hour. She had no idea how long ago he’d written it, but she got the message.
Don’t call us…

Layla drank some coffee but was incapable of eating a thing. Nerves fluttering in her stomach, she fired up her laptop and checked her e-mails. As usual her inbox was bursting at the seams. There were responses to research inquiries she’d made about features she was working on, a request from an editor for an article on injuries caused by fitness regimes, support group loops about infant leukemia, and the usual assortment of spam.

It took her half an hour to deal with it all. Then, judging the time was about right, she called the carer’s cell and had a few words with Amy. Her daughter sounded excited and was clearly having a great time.

“It really is magic, Mommy,” she said, the wonder in Amy’s voice bringing tears to Layla’s eyes. “They have real princesses. I touched one and she let me hold her wand.”

Layla smiled through her tears. Amy was at the age where she liked everything pink, and girly, and believed firmly in happy ever after.
Oh, Amy!

“That’s good, baby. You’re not feeling too tired?”

“Only a little bit.”

“If Connie tells you it’s time to rest, you’ll do as you’re told, like we talked about.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Good girl. Love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you, too.”

Reassured, Layla hung up and brought Amy’s medical records up on her screen. She probably knew almost as much by now about her daughter’s condition and its treatment as the specialists did. She’d never been one to accept anyone else’s word for anything. Nor had she ever come across a problem that she couldn’t resolve—somehow—until Amy’s illness knocked her on her ass.

Feeling helpless, reliant upon others, hadn’t sat easily with Layla since Amy’s dad had bailed on her, teaching her a harsh lesson in life. When the chips were down, she couldn’t depend on anyone except herself. So self-sufficiency was her brand name nowadays, or had been until her little girl got sick. Now she’d do whatever it took to keep her alive and healthy. And, against all the odds, she’d found a way to do that through Mikael. The only problem was, Philo appeared to think it was too dangerous for Mikael, which put Layla in a difficult position.

Her daughter’s life for that of one of the men she’d fallen in love with. What sort of choice was that?

“Hey, you’re up.”

Mikael’s voice made Layla jump. She’d been deep in thought and, as usual, he and a scowling Philo had walked up the stairs so soundlessly that she had no advance warning of their approach.

“Yes, sorry. I must have slept in.”

“No problem.” Mikael sat at the table beside her and examined her computer screen. “These her records?”

“Yes.”

Layla was acutely conscious of Philo prowling the room behind her. He hadn’t spoken a word, and she could feel the strength of his disapproval even before she turned to look at him. Layla was no coward and she
did
turn to face him. She wasn’t too sure what was going on here, but did know she was to blame for it. She hadn’t actually asked Mikael to do anything for Amy. He’d offered. With that thought in mind, she was determined to make him at least acknowledge her presence.

“Morning, Philo,” she said.

“Hey.”

Hey.
That appeared to be all he had to say to her, and Layla sensed now wasn’t the time to push him. Mikael was scrolling through the doctor’s reports and she returned her attention to him. He muttered a few things beneath his breath but didn’t address her directly. Layla didn’t interrupt him, even though her heart beat at twice its normal rate as she waited for his verdict. If he said it was too late to help Amy, or if he concurred with Philo’s obvious wishes and didn’t even try, Layla didn’t know how she’d stand the disappointment.

“I guess you know the background to this disease,” Mikael said, leaning back in his chair and crossing one foot over the opposite thigh. “Basically, malignant, immature white blood cells continuously multiply and are overproduced in the bone marrow. They cause damage by crowding out normal cells, and by infiltrating other organs.”

“Yes, I do know that.”

“Then you probably also know that the aim of mainstream treatment is to induce remission, hopefully permanent remission, but there are no guarantees. The earlier treatment starts, the better the chances of achieving that objective.” Layla nodded. “Amy has shown some positive reactions to the treatment she’s received so far.”

“Yes, but not as many as her doctors hoped or expected her to. Besides, it made her sicker than the disease itself.” Layla gulped against the lump in her throat. “I’m not sure I can put her through that again. Not without any guarantees.”

Mikael reached over and squeezed her hand. “There are none, I’m afraid.”

“I know.”

“Doctors consider remission induction to be successful if the patient has less than five percent of leukemic blasts in the bone marrow. Hers is at a higher level, which means it’ll creep back up again.”

“Which is why they gave her one to two years rather than weeks or months,” Layla said.

“Right.” He turned toward Philo. “And because the disease isn’t at full strength, there’s a fighting chance that I can save her.”

Layla’s gasp was drowned out by the slamming of the door as Philo left the room. Layla stared at it and then turned back to Mikael.

“He doesn’t want you to do it.”

“No.”

“But you offered anyway.” Layla spread her hands. “I don’t really understand what’s happening between you two.”

“He’s worried about me, that’s all. He’ll get over it.”

“I don’t want to come between you.”

Mikael shook his head, signs of strain clearly etched around his eyes. “You’re not.”

“Is there really a danger to you?”

Mikael shrugged his impossibly broad shoulders. “Crossing the road is dangerous.”

The atmosphere seemed to vibrate with tension when their gazes locked. She wanted to ask him so much more, find out if there was some way she could square things with Philo, but the words stalled on her tongue.

“That’s not the same thing and you know it,” she said instead.

“I won’t know for sure if I can do this until I’ve examined your daughter, laid my hands on her, and felt the strength of her illness.”

Layla widened her eyes. “You can do that just by touching her?”

“Yep. Well, I have been able to so far, anyway.” He sighed. “Why don’t you go and get her? The sooner the better. It’s only two hours to Orlando. I’ve had a word with Vadim. He’s sending over Giron and Jud, two of his best security guards, to take the ride with you, just in case.”

“You’d already decided to do this before you even saw her records,” she said disbelievingly. “Even though it could cost you your life.”

“I hadn’t made a definite decision. I just like to be prepared.”

She reached out and softly traced the line of his cheek with her fingers. “Why would you do that?”

He grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers. “I’m a doctor. I’m hardwired to help people, regardless of the personal cost.”

Layla knew she wasn’t getting the full story, nor would she. Not now, not from Mikael, and she knew better than to push.

“Thank you,” she said with heartfelt sincerity, aware how inadequate the words sounded.

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Yes, you have. You’ve given me hope.”

“Giron will pick you up shortly,” he said. “I need to get back to the Institute.”

“Of course.”

Layla waited a few minutes for him to get clear and then went in search of Philo. She had a feeling she’d find him in the refrigerated room, doing whatever he did with his herbs.

“Can I come in?” she asked, tapping on the open door.

“Free country.”

She sat on a bench and watched Philo at work, his brow creased with a permanent frown, thick cream hair falling across it. He appeared determined not to look at her.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked softly.

“It’s too late for you to do anything. I can’t ask you not to bring your daughter here. Hell, in your position I’d do exactly the same thing. It’s not your fault that Mikael is so fucking stubborn, so determined to do what he thinks is right, and to hell with whatever anyone else says.”