Something like concern

Alexander watched her with a predatory light in his eyes as she began to stagger, her breathing rapid and shallow. He stayed where he was, leaning against the wall, taking a slow sip of his champagne. He could see the way the room was spinning for her, the way her body was beginning to sag against the wall. The sight of her, so vulnerable and disoriented, made his heart pound hard against his ribcage.

Alexander's gaze sharpened as he saw her stagger, her breathing coming in short, ragged gasps. She seemed to be struggling to stay upright, leaning heavily against the wall as if she was about to collapse. He pushed himself off the wall and walked towards her, concern starting to replace the mocking desire in his eyes.

"You don't seem well," he said gruffly, reaching out to steady her with a hand on her shoulder.

She suddenly felt a wave of nausea wash over her, and then she was hunching over, her body wracked with violent heaves. And as she retched, she saw to her horror that what was coming out was not just champagne, but a thick, red blood. She was shocked and terrified, her eyes wide with panic as she sagged against the wall, the color draining from her face.

Alexander's eyes widened as he watched her retch, the blood draining from his own face as he realized what was happening. He stepped closer to her, wrapping an arm around her waist to support her weight, his other hand reaching up to wipe the sweat from her forehead.

"What the hell..." he muttered, his voice rough with shock and worry.

As soon as he saw the blood, he knew that something was seriously wrong, and the thought of poison crossed his mind. He knew he needed to act fast, and act fast he did. He scooped her up in his arms, holding her close to him as he started making his way through the crowd, his face set in a resolute expression.

"We need to get her to the hospital," he snapped to the people in his way. "Now."

The people around them parted in surprise at the sight of the stricken woman in his arms and his sharp command. He pushed through the crowd, carrying her with a speed born of desperation, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel her body growing limper in his arms, her breaths coming in shallow gasps, and he knew time was running out.

He was almost at the door now, almost at the car that could carry them to the hospital. She was struggling with consciousness, her eyes fluttering open and closed, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. But he didn't slow down, didn't stop. He had to get her to the hospital, had to get her help before it was too late.

He finally burst through the doors of the venue, the cool night air whipping at his face. He saw his car waiting just outside, the door already open, the driver standing beside it, his expression one of worry and shock. He hurried towards the car, laying her gently on the backseat.

He climbed into the backseat beside her, his hand going to her cheek to stroke it soothingly. He could see the paleness of her skin, the way her breathing was so labored, and he felt a pang of terror in his chest.

"Just hold on," he murmured, his voice gruff with emotion. "Just hold on, darling. We're almost there."

As the car raced through the city, Alexander kept his distance from Iris, refusing to let the sight of her pale and struggling form get to him. But despite his efforts to keep himself detached, he couldn't help but notice the labored sound of her breathing, the way her eyes kept fluttering closed as if she was fighting to stay awake.

He watched her intently, his expression outwardly cool and collected, but his heart lurched as she took another shallow gasp, her body shuddering beneath the light blanket that had been draped over her.

"Stay with me," he muttered, his voice gruff but betraying a hint of concern. "We're almost there."

________________________

Four hours later, Iris was settled into a room in the hospital, a team of doctors and nurses tending to her needs. The blood test results had confirmed their suspicions; she was poisoned. She was now recovering in a quiet, dimly lit room, surrounded by monitors and machines that beeped and hummed softly as she slept.

The whole ordeal had left Alexander feeling restless and edgy. He paced the hallway just outside her room, his thoughts in a state of turmoil. He couldn't stop thinking about the way she had looked, so pale and fragile, her blood staining his hands. He knew he should leave, should get back to his own life, but he found himself unable to do it. Instead, he hovered just outside the doorway, watching her from a distance, his mind churning with questions and worries.

Despite his efforts to appear aloof and indifferent, Alexander found himself unable to shake off the image of her lying in that hospital bed. He thought about her fragility and vulnerability, the way her body had trembled as she struggled to stay alive, and felt a pang of something like concern in his chest, although he quickly suppressed it.

"Damn it," he thought to himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I shouldn't care. I don't even know her.

He glanced at the open doorway again, his gaze drawn to her sleeping form like a moth to a flame. He could see her chest rising and falling slightly as she breathed, her face still and peaceful in sleep. It was a stark contrast to the image of her, pale and weak, struggling for breath, that had been burned into his mind.

Against his better judgment, he found himself stepping closer to the doorway, his eyes never leaving her face as he tried to make sense of the maelstrom of emotions roiling within him.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity, watching her sleep, his mind churning with conflicted thoughts. A part of him couldn't help but see her vulnerability and feel a pang of something like worry. Yet another part of him insisted that he was being foolish, that she was no more than a passing acquaintance, and he shouldn't care this much about her wellbeing.