Author's Preface
[Cont.]
[Annie]
"Please put the bag in the trunk," I tell John, handing him my extra luggage. "And tell Steven we're delaying the trip."
John blinks, caught off guard. "Miss Annie? Mr. Sterlings explicitly said—"
"Mr. Sterlings has a fever, like you said, and he shouldn't be giving orders," I interrupt, taking the pharmacy bag from John. "Give me an hour. If his temperature doesn't drop, you can take me back. But I'm not leaving while he's like this."
John hesitates, then nods.
Turning around, I head back toward room 208 and swipe the duplicate key card John handed me.
The door unlatches with a click, and I step inside.
The suite is dim, with the curtains half-drawn across the tall windows.
I expect Kai to be in bed, but he's sitting at the glass desk near the window.
He's in a simple white t-shirt, his hair damp, staring at his laptop while a stack of site blueprints sits beside him.
He looks terrible.
His cheeks are flushed, but the rest of his face is pale.
"John, has Steven left with Annie?" Kai asks, his voice raspy, without even looking up.
"John is downstairs," I say.
I watch as Kai stops typing and turns his head slowly.
Without his glasses, his eyes look narrow and bloodshot.
"Annie," he says. "What are you doing here?"
I walk over to the desk.
Before he can move, I step up to his chair, reach out and press the flat of my palm against his forehead.
Kai freezes.
He takes a sharp breath, his eyes widening in surprise.
He stares up at me as I feel his hot skin against my hand.
"You're burning up," I say softly, pulling my hand back. "You should be resting."
He blinks, forcing his composure back, though his face flushes a bit more. "I am resting."
"You're reviewing site plans in the dark while your hands are shaking," I say, setting the pharmacy bag on the desk with an intentional thud.
"I have a schedule to keep," he says, his voice shifting back into his usual boardroom tone. "I need to finish the site report tonight. If it's not ready by morning, the next stage of the project will be delayed. Go home, Annie. Steven must be waiting."
"I told Steven to wait," I say, crossing my arms. "And I'm not leaving until you actually take the medicine and rest."
Kai looks at me for a long, quiet moment.
The silence between us feels uncomfortable.
Usually, this is when people back down.
He has a way of looking at you that makes you feel like you're wasting his time.
I don't look away.
"This isn't your concern," he says quietly, turning back to his screen. "I don't need a babysitter."
"I'm not babysitting you," I snap, the sharp edge in my voice catching him off guard. "I'm stopping my boss from doing something completely reckless. You spent all morning standing in the rain and mud with a fever so we wouldn't miss a deadline. And now you're sitting here pretending you're made of steel."
Kai reaches out to type something, but his fingers misclick a key.
He makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and closes his eyes, pressing two fingers against the bridge of his nose.
For a second, his shoulders drop.
He takes a slow, heavy breath, looking more tired than he lets on.
"It's just a cold," he mutters, though he doesn't sound convinced.
"It's not a cold," I reply, reaching down and shutting the lid of his laptop.
Kai's head instantly snaps up. "Annie—"
"The inspection is done. The site is secure," I say evenly. "You can finish the report tomorrow. The project isn't going anywhere, Mr. Sterlings."
I see his mouth open to argue, but he pushes himself to his feet and immediately loses his balance.
He grabs the edge of the desk to steady himself and closes his eyes until the room stops spinning.
I reach for his arm, but the moment I touch him, he pulls away, like he doesn't want me to see how drained he is.
His knuckles go white against the desk.
"I don't like people around when I'm sick," he says quietly, staring at the floor. "I don't need help."
His voice isn't sharp or angry; it's just tired.
I realize he doesn't want me seeing him like this.
"Fine," I say, keeping my voice calm. "I won't fuss over you. But you're taking this medicine, and you're getting in bed."
Kai looks at me for a moment, searching for any sign of pity.
When he doesn't find any, he nods once. "One dose."
"One dose."
I hand him the pills and a bottle of water.
He takes them without argument, downs half the water in short, thirsty gulps, and walks over to the bed.
Within minutes of pulling up the duvet, his breathing deepens, becoming slow and heavy as the medicine and exhaustion finally pull him into sleep.
I sit down in the plush armchair across the room, keeping my distance.
I take out my iPad to log some notes, but the stillness of the room and the exhaustion from a long day in the wind start to catch up with me.
Before I realize it, my eyes are growing heavy.
[ *** ]
A knock at the door wakes me.
I blink, disoriented for a second, before realizing where I am.
The room is almost entirely dark now, lit only by the warm glow of the bedside lamps.
I look at my phone —it's already eight in the evening.
The knock comes again, softer this time.
I get up, smoothing my dress, and open the door to find a resort staff member pushing a silver room service cart.
"Good evening, ma'am. Mr. Sterlings' order," the waiter says in a low voice.
"I didn't order…" I begin, but then I look back into the room.
I find Kai sitting up against the headboard, his hair disheveled, looking a little clearer, though his eyes still look worn out.
"Let him in, Annie," Kai says, his voice raspy but clearer than before.
The waiter pushes the cart inside and uncovers two large trays on the small dining table before bowing and quietly taking his leave.
I walk over to look at the spread.
On one side sits a bowl of steaming plain rice porridge, with a side of pickled ginger and clear broth.
On the other side is a rich meal—a thick, seared steak with garlic butter, a side of creamy mushroom spaghetti, and a fresh garden salad.
"I wasn't sure what you'd want," Kai says from the bed as he swings his legs over the side before slowly getting himself up and walking over to the table to sit down. "So I ordered the chef's special. Eat."
We sit across from each other at the small round table.
The whole thing feels a little strange.
I'm still in my dress, he's in a wrinkled t-shirt, and here we are at eight at night with silver cloches between us.
I pick up my fork, but as I cut into the steak, I notice Kai just picking up his spoon with deliberate slowness.
He takes one tiny bite of porridge, chews, and then sets the spoon back down.
He rests his elbow on the table and just stares at the bowl.
A minute passes as I watch him between bites.
He takes another reluctant bite, sighs quietly, and pushes the bowl an inch.
"That's two bites," I say.
Kai looks up at me, sighing. "I'm not hungry."
"You haven't eaten all day, and you need food before the next medication," I say, pointing my fork at his bowl. "You need food in your system."
"Annie, it tastes like cardboard," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.
For a second, he looks less like my intimidating boss and more like a moody patient.
"I don't care if it tastes like air," I push back, pointing my fork at his bowl.
"Eat at least half of it. Right now. Or I'll call John up here to watch you eat it, like a babysitter."
Kai looks at the bowl, then at me, clearly annoyed.
Then without another word of protest, he hesitantly picks up the spoon and starts eating, one reluctant spoonful at a time.
I try to hide the small smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth by taking a bite of my own spaghetti.
[ *** ]
By the time he finishes half, another knock sounds at the door.
"That should be the doctor," Kai says, setting his spoon down with relief, as if saved by the intrusion.
I open the door to admit the resort's on-call physician, an older woman carrying a black medical bag.
She greets us politely before taking out a thermometer, a stethoscope, and a blood pressure cuff.
I step back to give them space while she checks his temperature and chest.
"Your temperature is down to 100.4°F, Mr. Sterlings," she says, writing on her chart.
"The medicines are working, but your throat is inflamed, and I can hear some mild congestion. You need strict bed rest and hydration for at least two days. No work."
Kai opens his mouth to object, but one look from the doctor makes him stop.
"If you keep pushing yourself, this can get worse. I'll leave a stronger prescription with the front desk."
She turns to me, assuming I'm his partner or family. "Make sure he drinks water and stays off his feet."
"I will," I say automatically, before I can stop myself.
[ *** ]
Once the doctor leaves, the room goes quiet again.
The medicine has made Kai drowsy again.
His eyelids are heavy, and he barely makes it back to the bed before sinking into the pillows.
"You should head down to Steven..." he murmurs, his voice fading into the quiet room.
"I'll leave soon," I say softly. "Just rest."
He closes his eyes, his breathing evening out almost immediately.
I sit back down in the soft armchair, intending to give him twenty minutes to settle into a deep sleep before leaving.
But the steady rhythm of his breathing, the soft glow of the lamp, and the warmth of the room catch up to me again.
I tell myself I'll just close my eyes for five minutes and doze off.
[ *** ]
When I wake up, the room is pitch black.
The low hum of the heater is the only sound in the room.
I shift slightly, expecting the stiff, awkward ache of the wooden armchair frame pressing against my back, but instead, I feel a soft mattress underneath me.
A heavy, warm duvet is pulled over my shoulders, smelling faintly of clean laundry and Kai's cologne.
I sit up quickly, pulling the blanket to my chest as my eyes adjust to the dark.
I'm lying on one side of the large bed.
Next to me, a foot away, Kai is fast asleep on his side, his back turned to me, his shoulders rising and falling in a deep, undisturbed sleep.
I realize that, at some point during the night, even while sick and exhausted, he must have pulled himself out of bed just to put me here so I could sleep comfortably.
I must've been so knocked out that I didn't even notice him helping me into bed.
I feel a little guilty all of a sudden.
I'd spent all day worrying about boundaries and keeping my distance, while he'd been looking out for me anyway.
I move to slide my legs over the edge of the mattress, lifting the blanket to slip out of bed, but I stop.
I look back at his silent, resting form in the darkness.
For some reason, the thought of waking him or leaving him alone right now feels wrong.
Slowly, I pull the duvet back up, lie back down against the pillow, keeping a careful, respectful distance on my side of the bed and close my eyes.
For the first time all day, I stop fighting it.