Beats of Life (Perception Book 5) (26 page)

I fully plan on bidding and winning the trip to Fiji that is coming up next. A tropical island, cocktails and a secluded beach sounds like my type of holiday. It might also be an ideal place for a romantic proposal.

Kylie

“I can’t believe we are going to Fiji!” I scream in excitement. My loud and happy voice bounces around the elevator. Oh shit, I don’t have a passport.

“I have to get a passport,” I inform Slater panicked. We are in the elevator making our way back to our room since the gala is now over. Just the auction alone tonight raised nearly five million dollars for sufferers of ALL. I used my three hundred I had saved to buy a personally signed drumstick from the world’s best drummer, Slater Scott.

“You have plenty of time to get a passport. We can’t go for
at least
another six months,” he informs, his voice slightly panicked.

Oh! There’s a way to dampen my excited mood. The instant Slater won the Fiji holiday all I could imagine was him in nothing but a pair of board shorts, or even better swim trunks! I have never seen him in a pair of shorts, ever! He has a few pairs of boxer shorts in the bottom of his drawers, but I’ve never seen him wear them. He normally goes commando under his jeans, so I either get him in a pair of jeans or naked. I guess I shouldn’t really be complaining about that, should I?

Although, right now he does look incredibly handsome in a full black tuxedo. The glands in my mouth have been overworked all night from the amount of drooling I have been doing. And don’t even get me started on his new haircut. Seriously, I loved Slater’s dreads because they were him, they were one of his unique qualities, but this shorter hairstyle doesn’t hide his gorgeous face. I didn’t realize how defined his cheek bones were until he removed his mask earlier tonight. And his brown eyes appear even larger in size. Tonight, it is going to be chasing him around our room, not the other way around.

“Jesus Christ, Kylie,” Slater mumbles under his breath. He leans over and a shiver runs through my body when his lips touch the edge of my earlobe.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I am going to fuck you in this elevator,” he whispers ever so softly. My eyes instantly dart to Melanie and Marcus standing to the side of us.

“Yes, even with them in here with us,” he continues, forcing my eyes to dart back to his and for my pussy to throb in anticipation.

“I can hear you,” Melanie informs sarcastically. I try my hardest to hold in my giggles but the instant she says, “Please don’t let me stop you, I’ve been dying to see if your
drumstick
,” I fail miserably.

My giggles only die down once the elevator finally reaches our floor and Slater steps towards me looking like a man who has been abandoned in a desert for the past week without any water. He is staring at me like I am his salvation. I am his bottle of water.

“I’m going to be nice, since you are wearing heels,” he informs, his eyes slowly roaming over my body before stopping at my black pumps.

“I’ll give you a ten second head start,” he continues. I cock my hip and stare at him unbelievably. He has absolutely no patience whatsoever. Ten seconds to him feels like a lifetime, oh except when he is in the bedroom.

“Ten….nine…..eight,” he slowly counts in his seductive deep tone.

I quickly kick off my heels, throw them at his chest and sprint out of the elevator before seven even has the chance of escaping his lips.

“Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, ready or not here I come,” he yells in one quick concession.

I manage to make it all the way into the hotel room before he is on my heels. Because I am too busy looking behind me, I end up running straight into the entranceway table, sending the large vase of flowers sitting on top toppling onto the floor.

“Anyone would swear you are the rock star,” Slater says chuckling the instant he catches up with me. I crook my neck back to look at him, my confusion clearly shown on my face.

“You are always trashing hotel rooms,” he explains with a chuckle. I attempt to rebut, but the instant his lips are on mine, I am rendered speechless.

One Week Later….

“Thank you for bringing Melanie here last week,” I say gratefully.

Slater smiles softly before lifting his head from looking at some documents in front of him. Once he notices that I am wearing nothing but a towel, his smile enlarges.

“It was my pleasure,” he replies, his voice sounding extra throaty.

I only just realized when I was in the shower that I had forgotten to thank him for bringing her here last week. He paid for Melanie to travel to us and even supplied her with her own hotel suite. Melanie and I spent most of Sunday hanging around in her room eating and talking for hours like we used too. I filled her in on everything that has been happening in my life the past several months. She seemed happy but slightly reserved and surprisingly quiet for Melanie. The only time her eyes really sparkled was when I asked her about Marcus. That girl has it bad for him. I know he walked her to her hotel room after the gala, but she wasn’t sharing any more details on what happened after he dropped her off., which is so unlike Melanie.

“What are you looking at?” I query Slater, moving over to sit next to him on the sofa in the living room of our hotel suite.

Peering down, I notice that he has my passport application and photos I took earlier in the week. When Slater originally won the trip to Fiji he said we couldn’t go for another six months. Then the very next day he said he was trying to organise for us to go within the next month. I don’t know what caused the sudden change in dates, but I am that excited about going to Fiji I didn’t care when we go.

“Cormack has organised for someone to come and collect all of your paperwork and they are going to take it to the courthouse today to get a rush order on your passport,” he explains.

My eyebrows pull together tight and my eyes turn up to look into his.

“Why do I need a rush order?” I question confused. Normal passport applications are processed within a few weeks, so my passport should be here in plenty of time.

Slater takes a deep breath before he slowly swivels his body to face me. “I thought maybe we could go to Fiji next week,” he informs softly.

I don’t know want is going on, but I have noticed a change in his personality the past few days. He has been treating me differently. Similar to how people treated me when they found out I was sick. It is like he is walking around on egg shells. He has even been more cautious in the bedroom.

“I’ve also organised for us to go to the doctors today to get any vaccinations we need before the trip,” he informs. His eyes dart down to the documents in his hand before he slowly whispers. “They will also do a full check-up on you while we are there.”

My heart plummets into my stomach and my eyes rapidly fill with tears. I knew he had been treating me different. I quickly stand from the sofa and move away from him. I need some distance between us to help calm down my anger. His eyes dart up to mine the instant I move away from him.

“Please Kylie, I need you to do this,” he begs, his voice sounds like he is in pain.

“Do what?” I reply sternly. I rapidly blink my eyes, trying my hardest to keep my tears at bay, but no matter how hard I fight them, they end up flowing down my face.

“The earlier we find out the better your chances will be,” he replies quietly, standing from the sofa and moving towards me.

“I’m not sick Slater,” I inform angrily, moving away from him. He grabs a hold of my wrist, halting my angry retreat. My eyes stay planted on the ugly Persian rug that is in the middle of the living room.

“Baby, look at me,” he requests softly. I angrily shake my head. “Please Kylie,” he pleads. Hearing how hurt his voice sounds, I can’t deny his request and slowly lift my eyes to look into his tormented brown eyes.

“You had that blood nose on Sunday.”

“Everyone gets blood noses Slater, it doesn’t mean anything,” I interrupt.

“I know that, I do, but you also have that large bruise on your thigh for the past six days that isn’t getting any better,” he says.

His eyes dart down to the large bruise I have on my thigh. I got it when I ran into the table in the entranceway of our hotel room the night we returned from the gala. At the time it didn’t even hurt as I was too busy enjoying being lavished with Slater’s affection. When I woke up the following day, the little bump had turned into an extremely angry bruise. I iced it, and with regular pain tablets I forgot it was even there. That same afternoon I had a blood nose. To me it was no big deal, but Slater’s faced look mortified when a small trickle of blood ran over my lips.

“I know me. I know my body. I’m not sick,” I assure. My words don’t offer him any comfort. His face stays marred with concern and panic. He looks like he is grieving me, even though I am standing right in front of him. 

His glossed over eyes stare directly into mine before he hauntingly whispers, “Please do this for me.”

I hate doctors. I know hate is a strong word, but I really do hate them. Probably because I spent the equivalent of months with them the past two years. But I want to help lessen Slater’s panic. I want him to look at me like he did last week. I take in several deep breaths before I slowly breathe out, “Okay.”  The instant the words escape my lips he engulfs me in the tightest hug.

“Thank you baby, thank you,” he whispers into my hair.

An hour later, we are sitting in a super fancy waiting room. The furniture in this doctor’s office alone looks like it cost more than my last doctor made in an entire year. Slater is sitting next to me. He hasn’t spoken a single word since we walked in. The only reason I even know he is here with me is because his knee keeps bouncing up and down. I place my hand on his knee, stopping his fidgeting movements.

“Sorry,” he whispers, just as the nurse calls my name.

Dr Webster takes all of my medical history and does my vitals before inspecting the bruise on my thigh. He lowers down my skirt and motions for me to take a seat next to Slater behind his large impressive mahogany desk.

“Considering your history, I think it was very commendable that you came in today,” Dr Webster advises, causing Slater’s grip on my hand to tighten.

“I am sure you are already well aware of the signs of ALL, but I also want to assure you that these type of symptoms can be anything from a common cold to simply being just a bruise,” he continues. I squeeze Slater’s hand back in an attempt to lessen his panic.

“I will organise for a nurse to come in and take a blood sample for testing,” he informs, triggering me to nod my head gently. “If the test comes back with an elevated blood count, I will organise a bone marrow biopsy for later in the week,”

“I would like the biopsy done today,” Slater instructs as his feared eyes turn to mine, seeking my permission. I gently nod my head. Needles scare the shit out of me, but the fear in his eyes scares me even more.

The doctor flicks threw his open diary on his desk. Turning the pages back and forth several times seeking an opening. “I am fully booked out,” he informs, not looking up from his diary.

“I can do--”

“I want it done today,” Slater interrupts. I peer back at him and notice that his jaw is ticking and his eyes are shooting daggers at Dr Webster. When his eyes turn to look at me, his anger instantly vanishes and fear takes its place.

“I’ll pay anything you want, if you can get it done today,” he informs more politely, his eyes never once leaving mine.

I turn my gaze back to Dr Webster whose eyes are darting between Slater and I. When his eyes settle on mine, he smiles softly. “I will get the nurse to organise the day surgery room now.”

Slater sat in front of me and held my hand during the whole procedure. His eyes never left mine the entire time. He brushed away the tears that dripped down my face when the needle was inserted into my back and ran his thumb over my hand when my face grimaced at the weird pulling sensation you get when the marrow is drawn out. The whole procedure only took fifteen minutes because I chose not to have a sedative. They always made me feel drowsy and I would have been required to stay at the surgery for several hours after the procedure. Slater only has the next two days off before he has a week full of concerts again, so I didn’t want to spend half of our day hanging around a doctor’s office.