Alfonso strode down the dimly lit corridors of the palace ground floor, his heavy shoes striking the marble with a rhythmic, lethal intent that made the guarding soldiers straighten like iron rods as he passed.
The heat from Joanne’s room still scorched his veins, his body rigid and unappeased, his jaw locked in a snarl of frustration.
He pushed through the heavy double doors of the estate’s medical wing, the sterile, biting stench of alcohol, blood, and singed flesh slamming into his senses instantly.
Inside, the room was a chaotic battlefield of groans and stained gauze.
The returned head doctor, Dorea, was already deep in the thick of it, her hands covered in latex gloves, her surgical apron smeared with fresh crimson as she rapidly stitched a deep laceration on the shoulder of one of Bob’s tactical men.
Hearing the thud of the entrance doors, she didn’t even look up at first, her fingers deftly pulling a suture tight through flesh.
“Hold still, you idiot, unless you want the knot to slip,” Dorea muttered to the groaning soldier, before finally lifting her eyes to track the massive shadow entering her workspace.
Her gaze traveled up Alfonso’s towering frame, pausing deliberately, with an intensely sharp and knowing focus, on the prominent, hardened bulge straining against the fabric of his trousers.
A highly provocative smirk played on her lips despite the bloody chaos surrounding her.
She dropped her surgical needle into a metal tray with a loud clink and pulled off her soiled gloves.
“Well, well, Boss,” Dorea murmured, her voice laced with a thick, suggestive undertone as she stepped away from the operating table.
“It looks like you brought a massive amount of tension back from the hospital shootout. Seeing you standing there with such a hardened crotch… do you happen to need my help to handle that for you tonight?”
Alfonso didn’t move an inch, his expression completely frozen in a mask of icy, unyielding disgust.
He looked down his nose at her, his deep voice cutting through the low groans of his bleeding soldiers.
Dorea’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, her jaw tightening as she let out a forced, defensive chuckle.
She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back against the metal tray.
“Right, okay, I know the drill. I’m clearly not attractive or soft enough for your high-class tastes, Boss. But it’s only because you’ve never actually given me a chance to show you exactly how much of a true pro I am in the sheets. I assure you, I can handle a beast.”
“I doubt you could ever handle my weight or stamina, Dorea,” Alfonso replied dryly, his icy gaze raking over her severe features before his expression shifted into something incredibly dangerous and interrogative.
He stepped forward, his shadow completely enveloping her.
“And speaking of your work—why the hell do you always leave the palace every single time my back is turned? It is currently four in the morning. According to the gate log, you must have slipped out around midnight. Explain yourself.”
Dorea didn’t flinch, though the air in the room grew tense.
She looked him dead in the eye, her voice smooth and perfectly rehearsed as she repeated exactly the same script Griffin had laid out in the courtyard.
“I already told Griffin, Boss. We were dangerously low on high-grade surgical anesthetics and local blocks after last week’s warehouse raid. I had to personally drive into the city’s underbelly to restock from our off-the-books pharmacy before the morning shifts. I was doing my job.”
Alfonso leaned down, his face inches from hers, his dark eyes boring into her skull with a lethal intensity that promised immediate execution if he detected a single lie.
“It had better be the absolute truth, doctor. Because if I find out for even a split second that you are involved in any shady, backdoor business against me or my family, you will be dead, gone, and erased from this earth without leaving a single trace behind.”
Dorea swallowed hard, the arrogance melting from her face as she gave a firm, tight nod.
“Understood, Boss. I know exactly who feeds me.”
Seeking to quickly deflect his terrifying focus, she shifted her gaze slightly upward, her eyes locking onto the neat, sterile gauze pad taped securely over his right ear—the precise work Joanne had done inside the speeding limousine. Follow the newest chapters on novelping dot com.
“It seems Zuroth is exceptionally angry this time,” Dorea noted, her voice dripping with a subtle venom as she stared at the injury.
“To launch a direct sniper attack at a public hospital… the Bulldogs are getting incredibly bold.”
“I will deal with that bastard Zuroth very soon, and when I do, I will tear his empire down piece by piece,” Alfonso hissed, his hand briefly rising to trace the edge of the bandage before dropping back to his side.
Dorea’s eyes narrowed into envious, calculating slits as she looked past him toward the hallway.
“You know, Boss… I’ve already heard the whispers from these wounded men. They can’t stop talking about how a beautiful, ‘voluptuous’ young nurse was brought into the palace tonight in your arms. Hearing them praise her medical touch… maybe it’s about time I simply retired and left the Fareno family completely.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Alfonso cut in, his voice cold and flat as he shut down her fishing attempt.
“Joanne is my exclusive, personal nurse. She belongs to my quarters and handles my body alone. You can continue working on the men and the soldiers as you usually do. Your position hasn’t changed.”
Dorea let out a bitter breath, the ugly green monster of jealousy completely twisting her features now as she looked at her bloody apron.
“Right. Your personal nurse. Maybe because I am simply not as beautiful or soft as her, that was the real reason you went out of your way to look for another woman to oversee your health matters, Alfonso? You suddenly prefer a pretty face over twenty years of loyalty?”
Alfonso didn’t hesitate for a fraction of a second.
He looked at her pathetic, envious display with a cold, completely unbothered detachment, his final words echoing through the blood-stained medical room like an absolute hammer blow:
“It’s completely true, Dorea—I don’t like looking at ugly people, so shut your mouth and focus entirely on your work if you want to continue being paid.”