Page 69 of Titus

“I’ll call you back,” I said when I noticed a young woman double over right in front of my waiting car.

I ended the call and rushed toward her.

“Are you okay?”

Instead of answering, she cried out in pain. One of the valets moved toward her uncertainly, but the second she cried out again, I saw blood running down her bare legs.

Everything in me locked into crisis aversion mode.

“Hey,” I said sharply, crouching in front of her. “Look at me.”

Fuck. She was pale. Tears spilled out of her eyes as another wave of pain hit her.

“Oh God…” she whimpered. “I think it’s the baby,” she said, clutching her belly.

“How pregnant are you?”

“I…” she winced in pain. “I don’t know exactly yet,” she gasped. “I was supposed to go for my ultrasound this week.”

Another pain tore through her, hard enough that she folded forward into me with a cry.

Christ. I glanced at my driver. “Call my pilot and tell him to redirect to Saint John’s helipad. Have him call ahead.”

“Yes, sir,” he said as I guided the suffering woman into the backseat of my car.

“Get us to the chopper now,” I said to my driver. I turned to the woman, helping her buckle into the seat next to me. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Amelia. I was just on my way to go visit—agh…” She winced in severe pain, losing her breath.

“It’s okay, Amelia. You’re bleeding, and I’m getting you to the hospital.”

Her eyes filled with panic instantly. “I don’t want to lose my baby…” she cried out through another wave of pain.

“That’s why I’m using my helicopter to get you to the ER at Saint John’s,” I said. “There is no way we’re going to wait for an ambulance during rush hour traffic.”

“Okay,” she whispered tearfully.

“You said you were on your way to visit someone. May I ask who?” I asked, hoping it might be someone in my building that I knew. “Perhaps I can call them, and they can meet us at the hospital.”

She shook her head. “My sister,” she breathed. “She works in the building you just came out of…”

“May I use your phone to contact her?” I questioned.

“Oh, damn,” she said. “I don’t have it. I must have dropped…” Another pause was brought on by the pain. “You can Google her number. Her name is Catalina Veléz. Her company…”

“Is Veléz Global,” I finished for her, seeing that the pain halted her again in conversation.

“She’s overseas, and I was picking up something for her,” she managed.

I wasn’t going to go through the process of alerting her that she was at the wrong building if she was headed to Cat’s office. In fact, thank God she was, because the Universe timed it so that I was there to help the poor girl.

“Cat is in Monaco,” she breathed out as my driver pulled into the private landing pad.

The blades were already slicing through the air, ready to take us as if it were a medevac chopper. I’d be tipping my pilots and driver well for their precision and efforts as they worked through this emergency situation.

I knew exactly why Cat was in Monaco. Over the last two days, all we heard were nonstop updates about the nightmare unfolding there after Mediterranean storm warnings threatened to destroy the Kaurent gala. Apparently, she was hired to salvage the entire event because the storm nearly destroyed the rooftop affair.

Another sharp cry escaped Amelia, and her fingers dug into my arm as I loaded her into the chopper and helped secure her in her seat.