Later that evening, after a long day of presentations and unspoken tension, I finally slipped under the hotel duvet with a sigh and reached for my phone.
One ring was all it took.
"About time you called," Sophie chirped on the other end. "I was starting to think Mr. Michael locked you in a boardroom for good!"
I laughed, already feeling lighter. "You're impossible."
"Well, someone has to keep things fun while you're off on your fancy business trip," she teased.
"Now spill everything. Start with the good stuff.
Did he touch your waist again? Any smoldering stares? How was the bed-sharing arrangement, hmm?"
"Sophie!" I gasped, blushing even though I was alone.
"You're out of control."
"Oh, please," she said. "You already kissed the man. At this point, I'm just reading the sequel."
We giggled like schoolgirls for a moment, the stress of the day momentarily forgotten.
Then, I brought the conversation back to something that had been gnawing at me all evening.
"Sophie… about Joe's 'contract wife'," I said slowly. "I want answers. I want to know the truth from her.
Not just from Joe."
Sophie went quiet for a beat.
"You're serious about this?"
"I am. But I'm not sure how to even go about it.
I mean, it's not like I can't knock on her door and say,
'Hey, tell me how you married my maybe-boyfriend under contract.'"
Sophie let out a low whistle. "Girl, that would make one hell of a Netflix series."
We both laughed again, then she added in a more serious tone,
"Okay then, let me handle it."
I blinked. "Wait, what?"
"You're busy pretending not to fall for your boss, and you've got a lot on your plate.
I'll do some snooping, see what I can find. Track her down, feel her out.
If I can get her to talk, maybe we can get the truth once and for all."
"Sophie… are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure.
I love a good mystery, and more importantly, I don't want you jumping into anything blind.
But Ella…" Her voice softened.
"We don't know who this woman is. She could be lying, obsessed, or innocent.
Just promise me you'll let me handle the heavy lifting."
"I promise," I said, feeling a mix of gratitude and worry. "Just… be careful."
"Oh, please," Sophie said with a smirk in her voice.
"You forget I once dated a guy who thought lizards could read minds. I've handled worse."
That made me laugh, the ache in my chest easing for a moment.
"Alright, Agent Sophie," I teased. "Keep me posted."
"You'll be the first to know.
We're launching Operation Find the One.
Time to see which man is truly worth your heart."
We laughed a little longer before saying our goodbyes.
But as I hung up and stared at the ceiling, a wave of fatigue and something heavier washed over me.
I didn't feel quite right", drained, warm, and slightly dizzy.
"Maybe just tired," I mumbled to myself, turning off the bedside lamp.
As I drifted off to sleep, Sophie's voice echoed in my mind:
And somehow… I knew I'd need to be.
Fevered Whispers
The soft hum of morning light filtered through the hotel curtains, but my body felt like lead.
My eyelids fluttered open only to close again, too heavy, too hot.
A dull ache throbbed behind my eyes, and my skin felt like it was on fire.
A knock. Then the door creaked open.
"Ella?" Michael's voice was tentative at first, then rushed with concern as he stepped closer and took one look at me.
"Oh gosh, you're burning up."
I tried to sit up, mumbling something incoherent, but he was already by my side, one hand gently on my forehead.
"You've got a high fever," he muttered, then, without waiting, he grabbed his phone. "I know someone in town. Just stay still."
In the haze of my fever, I heard him pacing and speaking" quickly on the phone.
Within twenty minutes, a soft knock brought a kind-eyed doctor into the room.
Michael stayed close, answering every question, holding my hand when the thermometer beeped, and offering me water between coughs.
"She's dehydrated and exhausted," the doctor said.
"A mild flu, but the stress and travel have made it worse. She needs rest and fluids."
"I'll take care of her," Michael said firmly, nodding. "Thank you, Doctor."
After the doctor left, I tried to protest, embarrassed. "You don't… have to do all this."
He silenced me with a look, one filled with worry and something softer, gentler.
"Ella, you've been working nonstop. You push yourself so hard and care so much.
Let someone take care of you now."
He brought over a bowl of warm soup that room service had delivered and sat beside me on the bed, spoon in hand.
"Come on," he coaxed with a half-smile. "Just a few bites so the medicine can work."
I sighed, my pride crumbling.
In that moment, I was too weak to fight the tenderness in his tone.
He fed me slowly, wiping a bit of broth from my chin when I missed the spoon, every gesture quietly intimate.
"You're doing great," he said softly, his voice dipping low. "You scared me this morning."
"I'll be okay," I whispered.
He set the bowl aside, then adjusted the blanket over me, tucking me in like I was something precious.
Sitting beside me on the edge of the bed, he let out a breath he'd been holding.
"I hate seeing you like this," he said quietly.
"Helpless… burning up… It makes me realize just how much I"
He stopped himself.
The room fell quiet again. The air between us felt warm and tight with unspoken words.
"I'm sorry," he said after a moment, brushing a strand of damp hair from my forehead.
"Just rest. We'll talk when you're better."
"He stayed closer, reading something quietly in the armchair by the window, occasionally glancing at me, making sure I sipped water, that I was breathing evenly".
At some point, I drifted off again, comforted by his presence more than I'd admit out loud.
Whatever tomorrow brought, one thing was certain: Michael cared.
Not just as a boss or travel partner.
But as a man watching someone he had deeper feelings for slowly stir back to life.
Rest in His Words
I stirred faintly, the fever making my limbs heavy, my voice just above a whisper.
Michael stood by the bedside, his shirt sleeves rolled up, eyes fixed on me like I might break if he looked away.
"Today, no meetings," he said firmly, brushing a cool hand across my forehead.
"I will see to it that you get better before we return to any presentations.
I'll arrange a quick meeting at the hotel, talk to the partners myself, and explain your condition.
You're more important to me, Ella."
Those words. More important to me.
They landed gently but deeply in my chest. I blinked up at him, too weak to respond with the fire I might have mustered otherwise.
"But… Mr. Michael"
He crouched beside the bed, taking my hand with a careful firmness.
"Ella," he interrupted gently, "don't fight me on this."
"I can manage," I said hoarsely, trying to sit up, but the wave of dizziness forced me to lean back with a defeated sigh.
"You're being stubborn," he whispered, a rare softness flooding his eyes.
"Let me handle everything today. The doctor said you need complete rest."
"But"
"No." His hand tightened slightly over mine, voice firmer now, but still kind.
"I won't forgive myself if anything happens to you.
Just listen to me… please."
I stared at him.
The man I'd known professionally for so long is now showing a side of himself I never expected.
Protective. Gentle. Almost... emotional.
"I don't want you to prove anything today," he added.
"You've already impressed everyone, including me. Now let me be the one to carry something for you."
Tears welled up in my eyes again, not from the fever, but from something else.
The way he said my name. The way his thumb gently ran across the back of my palm.
I turned my face to the pillow, breathing in slowly.
"Okay," I whispered.
A long moment passed, and then I felt the soft press of his lips on my hand.
"I'll take care of the rest," he murmured. "Just focus on getting better, Ella."
He stood up, adjusted the blanket around me again, and moved to the desk where his laptop sat.
His fingers danced across the keys as he made calls, took notes, and rearranged the day, without a single complaint.
Just for me.
I closed my eyes again, letting sleep pull me under, comforted by the quiet click of the keyboard and the steady rhythm of his voice in the background.
Michael wasn't just managing the project anymore.
He was managing my heart without even knowing it.
As the evening shadows stretched across the room, the soft chime of the phone startled me awake from a light doze.
Michael, sitting quietly in the corner, immediately glanced toward the screen.
"It's for you," he said gently, handing me the phone.
With a weak but hopeful breath, I answered.
The voice on the other end was unmistakable, warm, and familiar.
"Sophie," I whispered, my heart lifting.
She was checking in, her voice filled with concern and a little teasing, "Ella, how are you holding up?
Michael tells me you're a bit under the weather."
I chuckled softly, "Trying to rest, but Michael's been a bit of a nurse."
Michael smiled quietly in the background, watching me with something unreadable in his eyes.
As I ended the call, Michael rose from his seat and quietly moved to my bedside.
His presence filled the space, calm and reassuring.
Without a word, he gently pulled me toward him, easing me into his arms as I rested my head against his chest.
"The room faded away, the worries, the deadlines, even the cold hospital-like sterility".
In his embrace, I found a moment of peace.
"I want to tell you about the meeting," he murmured, his voice low and steady against my ear.
I closed my eyes and let the warmth of his arms envelop me as he spoke.
"They were impressed, Ella. You did more than just hold your own; you shone.
Everyone is on board with the next phase. They're excited, hopeful... and so am I."
A small smile tugged at my lips despite the weariness, and he caught it, his smile widening just a little.
Reaching over, he carefully fed me a spoonful of soup he'd ordered earlier, then handed me the glass of medication.
"Get better soon," he whispered, "I have a lot of surprises planned for you."
I felt a flutter in my chest at his words, a mix of gratitude and something tender blooming between us.
When I finally managed to sit up, he stood and offered his hand.
"I'll help you freshen up," he said, steadying me as we moved toward the bathroom.
The cool water on my face was invigorating, and I took my time, grateful for the simple act of cleansing away the day's fatigue.
When I emerged, Michael was waiting with a soft towel and a selection of clothes laid out neatly.
"Here," he said, helping me into a comfortable dress. "Something light for you."
I could barely keep my eyes open, but his gentle care made me feel cherished.
As he finished helping me adjust the dress, he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss on my forehead.
"Sleep now," he said quietly, "I'll be right here."
He carefully laid me back on the bed, pulling the blanket up to my chin.
I sighed, a mix of exhaustion and comfort washing over me.
Michael settled into the chair beside me, watching over me with a protective gaze as I drifted back toward sleep.
In that moment, wrapped in his care and the quiet promise of his presence, I felt safer than I had in days.