by Layla Hagen
Marcel jumps to his feet. There is a commotion all around me, but my eyes are fuzzy, burning from the effort of trying to breathe. My throat is closing up again. That’s when I realize I don’t have my backpack with me. I left it with the group outside. Oh God, I can feel my tongue swelling. My lips too, I think. Air, I need air. But the more I try to breathe, the less air seems to reach my lungs.
Heaving gasps reach my ears, and panic kicks in when I realize they belong to me. A sharp sting in my outer thigh alerts me that someone’s using an EpiPen. Thank goodness.
“I’m taking her to the hospital,” a familiar voice says. Daniel. He appears in my field of vision, which is very blurred.
“No hospital,” I manage to slur. “Benadryl.”
The next few minutes pass in a haze. Someone forces me to swallow a liquid—probably Benadryl—and then I’m lifted from my seat, warm, strong arms carrying me. I close my eyes because my vision is so blurry that the effort to make out my surroundings makes me dizzy.
When I blink them open again, I’m lying on a bed, and Daniel is shoving more Benadryl into my mouth. Laying my head on the pillow, I close my eyes again, focusing on my breath, which slowly returns to normal. My throat isn’t itching anymore. Tongue appears to be normal-sized too.
I don’t know how much time passes before I hear Daniel whisper, “Caroline, let me take you to a hospital.”
I shake my head, which turns out to be a big mistake—it makes me even dizzier. “No, I’m fine. I can breathe normally. Need to get back to the group.”
“You’re not going anywhere like this. They already left, anyway.”
I blink my eyes open. “What? When?”
“An hour ago.”
“Shit! I’ve been out of it for an hour? I need to—”
“Caroline, relax. Marcel and Honor are with Karla and the kids. They’ll manage fine. You can’t go out right now. Rest for a while. You can always head out later.”
“Okay.” Truthfully, I’m not up to boarding on a boat. Hell, I’m not even up to getting out of this bed.
“How do you feel?”
“Very tired. A bit dizzy.”
Daniel leans forward until his face is level with mine, his chest pressing to my side. “Bad sign.”
“Nah, just side effects of Benadryl.”
He rubs a hand up and down my arm. The gesture is so tender, I swear my heart bursts with hope. Oh no, no, no! I have a hard time keeping myself in check around him even when I’m sober, but when I’m high on Benadryl....
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
I nod, but Daniel still seems unconvinced. He scoots even closer to me until his chest squishes the side of my right boob. I can feel the ridges of his trained abs pressing against the length of my arm.
“Watch it, Daniel. Pressing the deliciousness that is your body against an under-sexed woman is a dangerous endeavor.” His sharp intake of breath alerts me that my words are so far beyond inappropriate, they deserve a category of their own. “This is the Benadryl talking, by the way.” Ah, brilliant. Brilliant. I couldn’t have found a better scapegoat if I tried. Whatever happens while I’m under its influence cannot be held against me. Considering I’m seeing Daniel as if there’s a foggy window between us, I’m not even making this up.
“Don’t worry about anything, okay? The kids are in good hands. Honor and Marcel are pros.”
“He asked me out,” I find myself saying. “At breakfast, he asked me out.”
“Marcel?”
“Yeah.”
“What did you say?”
I blink twice, trying to clear my vision. No such luck. “Why does it matter?”
Is it my imagination, or has Daniel gone rigid next to me?
“Don’t go out with him. Please! I know I have no right, but please don’t go out with an employee of mine.” He’s gone very still. “I’m close to them, and when we go out after work they bring their spouses or significant others, and I couldn’t watch you with him.”
My heart hammers so wildly, I feel like it will jump out of my chest any second now. My mind spins, and it’s not just from the Benadryl. At least I don’t think so. My vision is so foggy I can’t see past the tip of my nose, but my mind is clear. I’m not imagining this, or projecting. First he took care of my father, now this....
Gathering my courage around me, I ask in a small voice, “You care?”
“Of course I care. I’ve always cared.”
He cradles me in his arms, and l feel something warm on my forehead—his lips. Then sleep pulls me under.
Chapter Six
Daniel
Pushing myself on an elbow, I watch her drift to sleep. Her breathing pattern seems normal, but I’m still worried. She scared me down in the restaurant: the way she slurred her words, lost her balance. She shifts her position, tossing and turning until her head is dangling off the pillow at such a weird angle, she’ll get a neck strain if she sleeps like that. As carefully as possible, I shove the pillow back under her head, but then Caroline shifts again, turning on one side, grabbing my hand and placing it between the pillow and her head.
I smile. She used to do this all the time when we were together: monopolize my hand, then my entire body, sleeping on me, claiming I was the best pillow. I gladly endured the hardship of her climbing me in her sleep. I’d loved feeling her soft breath on my skin. When she wasn’t hogging me, she was thrashing in the bed. She’d been a messy sleeper. I wonder if she still is.
I contemplate the best way to free my hand without waking her, but when she sighs and lays a hand on my wrist, I give up. I’ll stay just a little longer. Just a few more seconds.
She shifts even closer to me. I can’t move away because I’m right on the edge of the bed. A whiff of her perfume reaches me, something floral, but not jasmine, which was what she’d worn when we were together.
But jasmine or no jasmine, she’s still the same sweet woman I fell for in college. She’s still the one person who spends as much time hovering around her family as I do around mine. She still loves the same simple things she did then: great food, great books. I bet she still binge-watches TV shows in the evenings.
Seeing her in my bed brings back so many memories. A truth I haven’t allowed myself to think hits me hard. I miss her.
But the only sensible thing to do at the moment is to climb out of this bed, which I do, extracting my hand from under her head carefully.
Standing at the end of the bed, I ponder what to do next. I knew she was allergic to peanuts, but I haven’t seen the allergy in action before on her. She looks all right, but I don’t want to leave her unsupervised. What if she gets worse?
I debate for all of two seconds before reaching a decision. I step out of the room to call Honor and Marcel and inform them of the next steps.
“Wait, I’ll put you on loudspeaker so Marcel can hear you too,” Honor says. “How is Caroline feeling?”
“Better, but she’s asleep, so she won’t join you for now at least.”
“No problem,” Marcel says. I grip the phone harder, remembering he had the guts to ask her out.
“I’m staying with her until she wakes up. If that doesn’t happen until the next clients arrive, you take care of everything.”
There is silence for a few seconds, and then Honor asks hesitantly, “Are you sure?”
“They’re looking forward to meeting you,” Marcel puts in.
“Then do your best to represent me.” My tone allows for no argument, and none comes. Excellent. I’m not in the mood for negotiations.
“Sure. Call us if you or Caroline needs anything,” Marcel adds. I barely keep myself from lashing at Marcel. Damn it, I have no right to be jealous.
“Keep me posted.” I click off and return to the room. I smile at the sight of Caroline on her belly, spread-eagled. She messed up half the bed in the span of minutes.
I have my laptop here, but the sound of my clicking on the keyboard could wake her up. Sitting in the armchair, I p
ull out my smartphone and start typing on the touchscreen, which makes no sound at all. Halfway through answering my emails, I come across one that chills me.
Subject: How the hell did this happen?
Message: This was my daughter’s birthday!!!! I don’t want her exposed to the fucking paparazzi and you promised 100% privacy. I’m never giving you my business again.
Inside the email are leaked photographs from the event I hosted yesterday for the drummer of a rock band. They made it onto all the major gossip sites.
I lean back in the armchair, dragging a hand down my face. My unique selling proposition for my famous clients is 100% privacy.
When it comes to the media, I’ve had years to cut my teeth.
Right after college, I did small consultancy projects, but I spent a lot of time enjoying the fame the Bennett name brought me, even though I hadn’t earned a lick of it. I’m not proud of it. Bennett Enterprises was such a draw for the media that the press hadn’t minded which Bennett they got a snapshot of. Sebastian, Logan, and Pippa, and even Christopher and Max, who joined the company later, stayed out of the limelight. But Blake and I were young, and the pull was far too tempting for both of us.
Eventually, the press wasn’t satisfied with reporting on the success of Bennett Enterprises. They started digging for dirt, anything to tear my siblings down from the pedestal. That was when Blake and I pulled out of the limelight, but when the media gets no stories, they fabricate them.
Blake and I made it a point to kill fake stories before they hit the media. Our siblings had enough on their hands; they didn’t have to deal with this kind of crap too. We were successful most of the time, and the exercise brought me invaluable media contacts.
Something good came out of that chaotic time. In my business, I had my first famous clients via the contacts I made in those years when I rubbed elbows with models, TV presenters, even actors and actresses. I have enough experience with the press to know how to avoid it and offer utmost privacy. Word of mouth from satisfied clients brings me an insane amount of business. Negative word of mouth can just as well disrupt everything.
And I hate not delivering on my promise. This was a kid’s tenth birthday, for God’s sake. The client has every right to be livid. If this had been one of my nieces or nephews, I’d be livid too.
How did these photos leak? There were no paparazzi inside the venue, and I made sure the surroundings were clear as well. The guests were close friends only, and those know the drill.
My mind is spinning as I set to work and do some damage control. I check on Caroline periodically and chuckle every time because she tosses and turns in the strangest positions. She’s exactly as messy a sleeper as I remember.
My bed will smell like her tonight. That’s something to look forward to.
Chapter Seven
Caroline
The room is dark when I wake up, with a small beacon of light at the far end. Pushing myself up on my elbows, I pat the nightstand until I find the light switch for the lamp and flick it on.
“You’re up.” The beacon of light was Daniel’s phone. He’s sitting in the armchair at the foot of the bed, watching me with a smile. My backpack is on the floor next to him.
“Yeah.” My voice is rough, the inside of my mouth gummy. “What time is it?”
“A little past ten.”
“Wow, I slept the entire day?”
“You woke up in between but fell right back asleep.” Something in his stiff position clues me in that he’s been sitting for a long while.
“Have you... were you here the entire time?”
“Yeah. I was afraid you’d get worse.”
And cue the swooning.
“But your activity this evening—”
“Marcel and Honor took care of it, don’t worry about it. You’re more important.”
Oh! I’m not equipped to deal with this level of swooning right after getting up.
“The kids and Karla—”
“Left for San Francisco this afternoon on the bus. The hotel has a shuttle service. I can arrange that for you. I’d drive you myself, but I’m staying here tonight. I’ve got another group here tomorrow.”
I nod, still feeling out of sorts. “I need a shower first. Some food would also be good.”
“You can order room service.”
“Did you have dinner?” I ask. If he’s been here the entire time, I guess he didn’t.
“No.”
I swallow, grabbing the menu for room service from the nightstand, perusing it. Usually, purely as a defense mechanism, I would avoid being alone for too long with Daniel. That goes double considering we’re in a hotel room. Also, I have a feeling I said some things I shouldn’t have before falling asleep.
But the man carried me to my room and forfeited his day and clients for me, so the least I can do is buy him dinner. As soon as I shower, I’ll be perfectly equipped to deal with his charm.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“Do they have pizza?”
“They do. Capricciosa?”
“Yeah.” I can practically hear the smile in his voice. I still remember his favorite. Without glancing his way, I dial room service, ordering pizza for both of us.
“How are you feeling?” Daniel asks after I hang up.
“Perfect. Can’t believe I was so stupid, not paying attention to the food. I’m sorry you wasted your day on me, though. And I’ve rumpled your bed.”
“You always were a messy sleeper, hogging all the space.”
“The affliction got worse with age, I’m afraid.” I laugh nervously, racking my mind for another topic, and end up rambling about which whales the kids might have seen until there is a knock at the door. “Wow, that was fast.”
Several minutes later, Daniel and I are sitting at the edge of the bed, practically inhaling our food, even though it’s still so hot I can’t feel the roof of my mouth after the first few bites.
Daniel is apparently immune to the heat because he’s already finished his pizza and is currently rumbling through the minibar, returning with two cans of Coke. I immediately take a swig from mine, cooling my mouth, pizza slice still in one hand.
I barely swallow the cool liquid when Daniel takes a mouthful from my slice.
Setting my Coke on the floor, I point a warning finger at him. “You ate your own pizza. No stealing mine.”
“Or what?” Daniel fixes me with his dark eyes. His molten gaze is a little playful, a lot intense. I avert my gaze because I’ve never been able to think straight when he looked at me like that.
“I’ll cook up an appropriate revenge plan. Just as soon as I finish my pizza so you can’t use it as leverage.”
“Carried you all the way from the restaurant up here. I deserve at least one slice for the effort.”
I tap my chin, pretending to be thinking hard. All the while, my heart thumps erratically in my chest because Daniel’s moved so close to me that I can feel the warmth of his body.
“And you watched me for hours. You deserve a bonus. Another half slice.”
He laughs throatily, and every shaky breath of his lands on my cheekbone, that’s how close he is.
“I thought you’d put up more of a fight. It’s more fun stealing it.”
“Fine, suit yourself. You’re not getting anything.”
I half expect him to fight me for it. Instead, Daniel simply watches me. I focus on my food as heat rises to my cheeks, intensifying by the second. When I can’t bear it anymore, I chance a glance at him. Yep, he’s still watching me.
Drawing in a deep breath, I focus on the last slice. What on earth is wrong with me tonight? I seem to be even more responsive to all things Daniel than usual, and I can’t blame it on the lingering effects of Benadryl. I’m usually better at propping up my defenses... but how am I supposed to keep them in place when he’s been shooting holes in them the entire day? Truth be told, he shot the first hole when he told me he’s been stopping by to watch soccer games with Dad. It
’s only been getting bigger since.
“I’m going to shower,” I announce once I swallow the last bit, rising from the bed.
“Sure. There are towels in the bathroom.”
The warm spray of the water is soothing, as is the ginger-scented shower gel, which I rub vigorously into my skin before washing it off. Perching one foot at the edge of the tub, I intend to hop off on the other side. Instead, the foot I’m standing on slides to one side.
“Aaaaargh.”
I collapse on the floor of the bathtub, my left leg and arm squished underneath me, but I narrowly manage to avoid bumping my head too. The door swings open the next second.
“Get out, I’m naked!” I exclaim at the same time Daniel asks, “What happened? Are you hurt?”
“I slipped. I’m fine. Get out.”
Except I’m not fine. When I try to push myself up, I discover my left leg hurts too much to be reliable, and I nearly collapse again. Daniel catches me midfall. Hooking an arm around my waist, he hoists me up against him. My entire body is shaking. After about ten seconds or so, I become aware that I’m wet, naked, and both my breasts are pressing against his chest.
“I’m naked,” I repeat, not daring to look up at him.
“I’ve seen it all before.”
“You’re not helping,” I inform him on a groan.
“Can you stand on your foot?”
I test it out, shifting my weight onto it. It hurts less than before, but still enough for me to doubt its reliability. “I don’t think so.”
“Okay, up you go.” He makes a motion as if to lower himself and hoist me up, and panic flares inside me.
“Daniel, no! I mean, can you give me a towel first, please?”
Smiling, he reaches to the rack, still holding my hand firmly. When he hands me the towel, I wrap it around me as quickly as I can. Daniel makes no effort to look away the entire time, his gaze not just appraising but downright hungry. Despite the mortification and the throbbing leg, pride surges inside me, because... priorities. Unable to help myself, I drink him in too. I soaked the front of his shirt, so the sinewy lines and ridges of his abdomen are clearly visible. Good God, his six-pack is as delicious as ever, not to mention the V-shaped dents leading down to his jeans. Biting down on my lips, I raise my gaze, which crisscrosses with Daniel’s. Heat jolts through me, and an undercurrent of awareness passes between us.
