Billionaires Dollar Series

“You don’t like being called cute?”

“Not by you. Not at the moment, at least.” If anything, I want him to think of me as sexy or sensual. Irresistible. The things he’d said to me that first night in the hotel. At the moment, I feel about as cute as a potato, unwashed and sweaty.

“Noted.” Cole turns over on his back and stares up at the ceiling. “My mother saved all the newspaper articles when they first began. I don’t know if she still does.”

“I guarantee you she does.”

He smiles, and it’s a soft, private one. “Probably. I should ask her.”

I rise up on an elbow, suddenly distraught by this new version of Cole Porter, the one taking care of me when I’m sick and who answers my questions in a deep, soft voice.

Somehow, we’re in an alternate universe.

“You stayed. All night. Why?”

He glances over at me with narrowed eyes. “You were seconds from collapsing last night. You fainted.”

“Oh.”

“Do you remember a doctor being here?”

“Mmm. Faintly. You called someone?”

He nods. “And I’ve already checked in with him this morning. You’re prescribed bed rest, lots and lots of fluids, and more of the pills on your bedside table.”

I’m speechless for a bit. My head is still spinning, and I close my eyes against the light of day. “Wow.”

“How do you feel now?”

“Better. Compared to last night, I mean. Whoa.”

He reaches over and fluffs my pillow. “I’m surprised,” he says.

“About what?”

“I thought I’d be chased out the second you woke up without a fever. You know, being your number-one enemy and all.”

I want to laugh, but all I can manage is a smile. “No energy,” I say. “It’s a strategic retreat.”

“A truce,” he corrects.

“Yes. It’s nice,” I murmur, turning over again. Sleep is already trying to reclaim me and there is no point in fighting it. I don’t have the power to.

The last thing I hear is a cell phone ringing and Cole’s faint curse before he answers it. His footsteps retreat in the apartment, but one sentence reaches me. Cancel my meetings.

And then I’m lost again.

I’m disgusting.

It’s the first thing I feel when I wake up again. The clock on my night table reads eleven a. m. My eyes feel like they’ve been glued together, my hair a mess, and my mouth tastes like copper.

The bedsheets, my own T-shirt… I’ve sweated all night long.

I need a shower.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and sit for a while, catching my breath. I’m in panties and a T-shirt, and that’s all.

Cole.

He must have helped me off with my pants, and my shoes, and… he’d stayed. Called a doctor. Cancelled his meetings. The ground shifts beneath my feet. No, Skye, I tell myself, and compartmentalize that somewhere far away. I can’t process that right now. One thing at a time. Shower first. Contemplate enemy’s kindness second.

My bedroom door is open and there’s a voice from the living room. Cole’s talking to someone on the phone.

“No,” I hear him say. “Absolutely not. I know it’s your life-don’t go there, Blair-but if you’re asking for my permission, it’s no.”

I’m too intrigued to stop listening, so I inch closer to the open door. Whoever is on the line talks for a very long time.

Cole sighs. “Of course I want you to be happy. What kind of question is that?”

I’m eavesdropping. Snooping, really. And yet I can’t find it in myself to move away.

“Yes,” he says finally. “I’ll see you on Sunday. We can talk more then.”

His voice drifts closer and I scoot back in bed just in time. Cole’s eyebrows rise when he sees I’m awake. He leans against the door post, still in the same clothes as last night.

“You’re up.”

He flashes his phone. “Did I wake you?”

“No, no. Not at all.”

I nod as well, but I have no idea what to say. He stayed. It’s nearly midday, and he’s still here, postponing world domination.

“Better. Thirsty. In desperate need of a shower.”

He gives me a crooked smile. “Hungry?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Go have a shower. I’ll fix you something to eat.”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

I’m too stunned to protest. “All right.” I head to the bathroom and hear him grab my keys from my hall side table, my front door clicking closed behind him.

Wow.

I feel weak as a lamb as I strip off my soaked T-shirt and slide my underwear off. The shower is marvelously uncomplicated. I shower with cold water, enough to cool my hot skin, before turning it back to hot and soothing my aching muscles.

I stare at my nice, expensive shampoo and conditioner, and they stare back at me. Do I have the energy?