When Isolde opened her eyes, Severin was no longer in bed. But she could hear his voice downstairs—he sounded pissed.
She wrapped her naked body with the blanket and tiptoed to the balcony. Peeking down, she saw Severin arguing with Nikhael, his face twisted in frustration.
It wasn't Malric standing beside Nikhael—it was Ivan. That insane doctor who once scared the shit out of her, ranting about gouging her eyes out for Corvin's wife. Malric couldn't make it, and Severin was pissed that Ivan had to take over. Probably even more pissed that he couldn't stick around to supervise.
Isolde didn't catch much, just her ears picking up Malric's name and something about his sick kid—Nikhael's voice was the only one she could make out.
Nothing else was worth eavesdropping, so she pulled back and headed for the bathroom to clean herself before Ivan laid a hand on her. The idea of that psycho examining her while she still reeked of last night with Severin was sickening.
