CHAPTER138
“Emma? Emma?” Jake’s voice comes at me from far away. I flutter my eyes open and realize there are several faces above me, hemming me in like a bad dream.
What the hell?
Jake’s holding my head up with one hand and pulls me slowly to sit up, a hand sliding behind my back to support me.
“Are you okay?” He’s pale and seems stressed. I realize I’m lying on the floor, my head still spinning, the scratchy carpet irritating my skin. Some of the suits move back as I struggle upright, held by Jake’s strong arm as he kneels over me. I have no idea what’s going on.
“I just felt a little lightheaded,” I try but sound childlike, trying to make excuses. I feel so odd, like this is all some weird dream. I don’t think I’ve ever fainted before, and if that’s what this is, it’s surreal. I can only assume that’s what happened, and why I’m on the floor with no memory of how.
“Emma, you passed out.” Jake studies my face with a scrutinizing frown, not giving me any room at all.
“I missed lunch,” I answer weakly, confused by what’s going on; I don’t remember even falling. I don’t feel so good. I’m shaking inside, and it’s spreading to my hands. Someone passes Jake a glass of water, and he holds it to my mouth like I’m incapable.
“Drink,” he commands. Bossy pants is back; I don’t argue and take a sip. Heat radiates from my face adding to my wooziness; this is so embarrassing. He’s still holding me like fine China, and I’m conscious of the many faces and quiet whispers all around, watching me, watching us.
“We’re going back to the hotel right now. I want a doctor to look at you.” Jake is oblivious to anything but the marching orders he’s issuing me.
“No. No, Jake. Honest, I’m fine. I just need to eat.” My voice is wavering and weak; I don’t feel right at all, sleepy almost. I take a breath, and the expanding heat creeps over me; maybe that’s got something to do with this too. “I’m just too hot,” I stammer as he leans forward and starts unbuttoning my jacket with one hand, easing it off for me. Someone hands him a damp paper towel, and he holds it behind my neck. It feels good; it helps a little to clear the fogginess, and I start to come back to reality.
The swimming head is starting to pass. I notice there’s still an audience and frown; he follows my gaze and looks up, as though noticing for the first time the men in suits.
“Can you all give us a few minutes. Give her some space,” he commands. There’s a bit of chatter as they all file back through to the other room; except it’s a glass wall, and I’m aware of the eyes still being cast this way.
Crap, this is never going to go away now. I bet everyone in the building hears how Carrero’s PA flaked out over a simple contract briefing.
“I can get up.” I try, but he stops me.
“Stay for a few minutes.” He’s trying to make me sip again, but I take the glass from him and drink myself, his eyes on me, boring into my skull.
“You gave me a fucking scare, shorty,” he sighs, taking my glass when I’m done.
Oh well, he’s still sweary anyway.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur apologetically. “Next time I’ll be more considerate with my fainting spells,” I add drily, and he frowns at me but says nothing. “I can get up. I feel better.” He watches me intently for a second, then moves to pull me with him. He keeps his hands on my hips as I waiver, holding me still. “I’m good. I’m just a bit unsteady.” My voice is still shaking, and my body feels cold despite the heat. I shiver involuntarily.
“We’re leaving,” Jake says without hesitation, full command mode on, and I know he won’t be swayed.
“No, honestly, go finish. I’ll sit. I just needed to …” I wave my hands airily, and the words trail away absentmindedly.
Okay, maybe I’m still a bit scatterbrained.
“No. We’re going, and you’re seeing a doctor.” He’s in no-argument mode, bossy and frowning. I sigh heavily; I know this mood, and even in my strongest sulks, I’m no match.
“Don’t, Jake, I’m fine. Make them order lunch instead, then I’ll be perfect.” I try a smile and fail. I feel weak, and he’s right.
“Emma, I’ve seen you skip lunch before; you’ve never keeled over on me.” He has a dark look, and I’m too fuzzy to even begin to decipher it, too tired for this to continue.
“It’s the heat; hot and hungry are not a good combo.” He pulls me closer to him, one arm steadying me against him as he moves his other hand to my forehead to feel my temperature.
Really? Like I’m a child with a fever?
It’s so at odds with his serious, frowning facial expression that it makes me giggle, breaking my tension. He too breaks into a smile.
“Just checking,” he shrugs, his bad mood dissipating almost as fast as it started. Boyish Carrero is finally shining through.
“I’m okay. I’m not sick, Carrero,” I flutter, all aggravation of the last two days forgotten so easily.
“Promise?” He looks suddenly so very young; I think it’s relief. I can’t ever stay mad at this version of him. That face could melt icebergs when he turns on the adorable.
“Promise,” holding up my hand in an attempt at a Girl Scout salute as proof, and he smiles.
“I’m still making you go back to the hotel, Emma. Enough for today.” The tone is still stubborn and serious.
“Yes, sir.” I’m tired, and maybe the hotel won’t be such a bad idea. I mean, I’m hungry after all and room service is pretty tasty. I could use a little nap to let this pass.
“You’re not arguing?” He seems surprised.
“No.”
“Okay, then you’re definitely seeing the doctor. I think you’re terminally ill.” Now he’s being funny; nice to see flirty-face is back on form once more. I’ve missed him."
