The Fated Dance: Bound to the Shadow Dancer Read Online Free PDF

put it on silent for a reason. I should have moved the damn thing out of my sight. Rose Springs hospital flashes and flashes, blinding me with worry. I pick up the phone and hold it: my existence- my life, lying in the palm of my hand. I clench my teeth, press green, and bring the cell to my ear.
    “Mr. Crane,” Jenkins voice echoes.
    I breathe in. “Good evening, Jenkins.”
    There’s a pause. A complete standstill of time. I know immediately what it means and could just hang up now. I drop down into my chair and rub my eyes.
    “Mr. Crane, I would like you to come and see me in my office first thing.”
    I inhale deep. “There will be no need for that, you’re free to discuss my results with me over the phone.”
    Another long deafening pause occurs through the receiver. “Mr. Crane, I… I would rather discuss them with you in person.”
    I swallow. “Like I’ve said, there is no need. I will not be available tomorrow, or in the foreseeable future,” I madden. “So please, explain… do I now have an expiry date printed on my damn head?”
    “Mr. Crane.” He mutes for a few seconds. “It is of vital importance you…”
    “Stop,” I bark, slouching over. “Give it to me straight… no bullshit. Just straight to the point with it Jenkins.”
    “Mr. Crane… with samples we took last week, along with the variation in cell count.” I hear the reluctance in his loud sigh. “Your condition is no longer stable. If you don’t return for treatment, you will deteriorate in…” He stops.
    My pupils haze. I fought with myself over this damn sickness. I’ve prepared myself for this. But even I didn’t expect the way this call has shaken me. It is better not to know. I should have never answered this stupid call.
    “How long do I have… without treatment?”
    “Six months… tops,” he says. “But Mr. Crane, like I said, with treatment your chances will improve considerably.”
    “The odds are stacked against me Jenkins. We’ve already discussed what would happen if it returned.” I remove my glasses and fling them across my desk. “We went over it before my transplant and the first round of chemo. You specifically went into detail on how aggressive it was; how it might return.”
    “But Mr. Crane… please.”
    “No Jenkins,” I bark. “You can’t flog a dead horse.” I hang-up and my cell joins my glasses on the desk.
    It’s time to crack open that bottle I’ve been saving. A vintage bourbon my father gave to me on my twenty-first birthday. Never touched a drop. I’ve been saving it for a worthy occasion. And this- well- this time warrants a worthy drink. This warrants drinking myself into oblivion.
     
     
     

His Proposition
     
    I’ve never been sent flowers before. And these are not just your average bunch of flowers. These roses are beautifully gathered and dressed with cream ribbon. When I opened the door, I automatically thought the courier had got the wrong address. But no. Grayson Crane sent them, and I’ve been mulling over what they imply all day. The card gives nothing away. It simply says- To Ms. Jenifer Connor- From Grayson Crane. I frown at them arranged in my mom’s vase as I climb the stairs. Maybe I shouldn’t have them on display. Every time I see them my mind fills with uncertainty. As though I’m willingly letting him in, when encouraging him is the last thing I should be doing.
    It has been on my bed all day. Now, with only two hours until eight o’clock, I still haven’t made up my mind. My nude colored lace and chiffon dress is waiting for me, crying out- I haven’t been worn in over a year, put me on . I adore the dress. It’s classy, knee length, and flows beautifully. But the fact I’ll be wearing it for Grayson Crane, has got me in an indecisive state. I have work tonight at Venus, or the opportunity of a new job. Cleaner and safer he said. And the pay would be beneficial too. Would I be a fool for not checking it out?
    A knock on my bedroom door breaks