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I spent a good part of the day rifling through the drawers of the desk I had access to, though I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t find any juicy tidbits lying around. The most exciting thing I found was a heavy-duty stapler, if that counted for anything.
Around noon, I realized that Lucian’s meal alarm was about to go off, and I decided I might as well bring it in to him. It would give me an excuse to stretch and at least eat up a few minutes of the day. I grabbed his chicken wrap from the mini fridge and a bottle of water and headed for his office. He didn’t answer when I knocked, but I could hear him coughing from the other side.
I waited for a few more seconds, but the coughing didn’t cease, and it sounded pretty awful. It wasn’t really my concern, and it probably served him right catching a cold, but I figured it wouldn’t kill me to do something nice for him and at least give him the water.
I opened the door and let myself in but stopped when I found Lucian doubled over the garbage can. There were bloody tissues in his hand, and his dress shirt was soaked through with sweat.
“Lucian?”
He looked up at me and shook his head. “Go away.”
My stomach roiled. I could go away, and I probably should, but something wasn’t right. As selfish as I might be, I wasn’t about to leave him alone if he was seriously ill.
“Here.” I walked around the desk and untwisted the cap from the bottle of water, forcing it in his direction.
He looked up at me like he wanted to yell at me, but I didn’t think he could. Instead, he took a long drink and wiped his mouth.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“It’s nothing,” he growled. “Just a touch of bronchitis.”
I remembered when Birdie was little, she got a few fevers that terrified me. I was so certain I would lose her each time that I wouldn’t even sleep until she was better. She always tried to put on a brave face for my benefit, and even though I was hardly the nursing type, it seemed like Lucian was also downplaying how awful he felt. Sure enough, when I rested my hand against his forehead, he was burning up.
He seized my wrist. “Go back to your desk, Gypsy.”
“You have a fever,” I snapped. “You can’t work like this.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Now leave.”
But he wasn’t fine. He launched into another coughing fit, and I stood by helplessly. It caught me off guard to see such a strong-willed man suffering. He was accustomed to controlling every aspect of his life, but right now, he couldn’t see that he was being ridiculous.
“Fine.” I walked around the desk and rummaged through his jacket pocket until I found his car keys. “I will leave, and you can either come with me or stay here. Your choice.”
“Gypsy.” His voice was a warning, but I ignored it as I fled from the office and down the hallway.
His black Dodge Demon was parked in the company lot, and I jogged in my heels to get there before he did even though I was fairly certain he wouldn’t be running in his condition. I was already behind the wheel with the engine fired up when he made an appearance at the driver’s side door.
“Get out,” he ordered.
“No.” I pointed at the passenger side. “You get in. I’m driving.”
“You are not driving my car.”
“Don’t you mean our car?” I smirked. “What’s yours is mine, honey.”
“You can’t handle this much horsepower, pet.”
“Bullshit I can’t.”
We glared at each other, and he broke into another coughing fit before doubling over in pain. I got out of the car and approached him the way one would approach a wild animal.
“Lucian.” My voice was soft, and I couldn’t remember being soft with anyone besides Birdie. “Please get in. Let me take you home.”
Finally, he looked up at me and nodded, his eyes filled with defeat. I wrapped my arm around his side and helped him into the passenger seat. I could tell he didn’t like it, but at this point, he really wasn’t in a position to argue.
I returned to my seat and drove the entire way home with him bitching about every little thing I did. Lucian did not like being out of control, and that was a fact. But I let him have this one because he was weak and tired and cranky as hell.
I helped him into the house until he shrugged me off and insisted he would be fine before collapsing onto the sofa, which was as far as he could make it. I offered him a couple of Tylenol from the kitchen and a glass of water, along with a cool cloth for his forehead. It was all I could really do. I expected he would be better in a couple of hours.
