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Once the cakes are baked and cooled, the same men help us take everything back to the penthouse. William and I prepare the frostings, and after that, he leaves me alone in the kitchen while I turn the bare cupcakes into the famous superhero ones.
My heart overflows with gratitude. I’m thankful that he understands this is important to me without me saying out loud. When I finally place the piping bag down, William appears and my head jerks in surprise at his arrival. With the same measured smile on his face, he shows me a new refrigerator.
As I’m placing the last tray in, William says, “Now you go to sleep. I will make sure they get delivered tomorrow.”
“William.” I shake my head. “I can’t ask you to do that.” A cold feeling of losing control hits me again.
I’m thankful to William and Zach for their support, but I don’t want to forget my reality.
I know this is not one of Ray’s bedtime stories. Billionaire businessmen like Zach don’t come to rescue a damsel like me.
“Hope, I’m offering,” William says and my puckered forehead further wrinkles. “Tomorrow will be another long day at the hospital.” When I don’t reply, he lifts an eyebrow. “Mr. Teager won’t be pleased with me if I don’t do this.”
Struggling to find the right words, I look at William and his affectionate face.
“Please,” he urges, and after a beat, I meekly nod.
“Good. Let me show you to your room.”
I follow him with nervous steps to a room adjacent to Ray’s. When he opens the door, I notice my suitcase near the bed.
“I must warn you, I usually do the packing when Mr. Teager travels. His packing skills are—"
“Nonexistent?” I comment, a small smile tugging on my lips.
I can’t see Zach packing a bag. He’s too regal to do such mundane stuff.
Your Highness.
My smile grows and I feel a little lighter in my heart when William leaves me in this beautiful guest room. As I place my bag on the soft, azure-colored bedspread, I wonder how bad it could be.
But when I open the zipper, I realize how wrong I was.
My mouth falls open before I giggle.
I laugh so hard at the monstrosity before me. Above everything are my running shoes. I even spot some mud on the sole, and after pulling the shoes out, I dust my jeans thrown under them. My T-shirts have no better luck. The half-closed shampoo bottle has left a squishy blob on the yellow blouse. Finally, under everything, are my intimates. The plain cotton bras and the granny panties.
My face enflames and mortification amplifies when I see my tampon box.
At the very same moment, my phone rings, and I take it out of my jeans pocket.
It’s him.
Holy crap! How do I talk to him now? Before I can think, thankfully, the call ends.
But next thing I know, there is an incoming video call.
What do I do now? I know he won’t stop.
I touch the green button.
“Why didn’t you answer the call? I was worried the hotel staff might still be giving you trouble.” My heartbeat pitter-patters at the touch of worry and confusion in Zach’s voice.
“I was busy.” I wave my hand around without meeting his eye.
“Why do you sound like that?” he asks slowly but I still avoid any eye contact with him.
“Like what?”
