Married To The Comatose Tech Emperor

The cold metal of the surgical scalpel pressed against the warm skin of Gina's thumb.

She sat behind the massive mahogany desk in the director's office of Blackwood Asylum.

Her back rested against the plush leather chair.

She twirled the scalpel between her fingers.

The sharp edge caught the fluorescent light, flashing a blinding white across the sterile room.

Dr. Evans stood two feet away from the desk.

A thick bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

It soaked into the stiff white collar of his medical coat.

His breathing was shallow and rapid.

His hands shook as he held out a stack of discharge papers.

Heavy, rapid footsteps echoed from the hallway outside.

Dr. Evans flinched.

He scrambled backward, putting the desk between himself and Gina.

He cleared his throat and raised his voice, pointing a trembling finger at her.

"You need to understand the rules of the outside world, Gina."

The heavy oak door was violently shoved open.

It slammed against the wall with a loud crack.

Gustaf Rollins stepped into the room.

He wore a custom Tom Ford suit that hugged his broad shoulders.

The smell of rich cigar smoke and expensive cologne instantly overpowered the scent of bleach in the office.

Gustaf stopped in the center of the room.

He looked at Gina.

She wore a faded, oversized gray jumpsuit.

Her dark hair hung in greasy, tangled strands over her face.

Gustaf pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a loud breath.

He waved his hand in front of his face as if swatting away a foul odor.

"Sign the damn papers, Evans."

Gustaf threw a legal waiver onto the desk.

The thick paper slid across the polished wood and stopped right in front of Dr. Evans.

Dr. Evans picked up a pen.

His knuckles turned white from gripping the plastic too hard.

He did not look at the paper.

His eyes darted toward Gina.

He waited.

Gina slowly lowered her eyelids.

She slid the scalpel up her sleeve.

The cold metal rested against her forearm.

She gave a single, barely visible nod.

Dr. Evans exhaled a massive breath.

His shoulders dropped.

He scribbled his signature on the bottom line and slammed the heavy steel seal of the asylum onto the paper.

Gustaf did not wait for the ink to dry.

He marched around the desk.

His large hand clamped down on Gina.

His thick fingers dug into her bicep, bruising the skin.

He yanked her out of the leather chair.

Gina let her knees buckle.

She stumbled forward, her shoulder hitting Gustaf.

She let her head loll slightly to the side.

Her body felt completely limp, perfectly mimicking a patient heavily sedated by years of psychiatric drugs.

"Keep your mouth shut on the ride to New York."

Gustaf tightened his grip on her arm.

"If you have an episode, I will tie you to the roof of the car."

He dragged her toward the door.

Gina dragged her feet against the linoleum floor.