8. Day Three: The Fever
1989 Words
"This is the first time you have graced us with your presence, Mr. MacGregor. The first time in six years since you took the world by a storm! You must tell us more about yourself!"
Cold sweat broke on Ivette's forehead and her nails dug painfully into her palms as she tried to stifle a shiver. She had hoped the fever would have subsided by morning time but it only got worse.
It had been an effort to move from the bed...or even apply her make up. Her muscles were numb and aching and her temperature spiked on an abnormal level.
She had been eager to skip the today's event but it was important that she and Aaron sat together on that stage as a couple, and answered the questions as one.
She had been surprised when she showed up and her mother and Kerry had fawned over her with concern. She'd taken one look at her father's disdainful stare and known that Aaron hadn't told them about her and Cian.
She'd been about leaving when she saw him waiting outside her hotel, leaning against his car with a lazy smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Ivette had expected a lot of things but not that.
She'd expected that by morning, their engagement would've been called off.
She'd expected her father knocking down the door of her hotel room and yelling at her, telling her how stupid she was to have let this happen.
She'd expected Cian MacGregor to have told the world of their s****l escapade. It was what he wanted after all. To ruin her. It was all business. Learning each other's dirty secrets and selling it for advantage, or leverage.
Ivette had been thrown off balance by Aaron's appearance. It was disconcerting.
And it had stayed that way until he'd said coldly, "Your mistake is yours alone to bear. This marriage will take place, Ivette. I suggest you close your legs for the rest of the days leading up to it. I will not have your inability to keep your legs closed jeopardize this. Stay the f**k away from Cian MacGregor. You're mine, and it will remain that way."
She'd been too cold and exhausted to put up a fight and spit in his face for talking to her that way. He was still mad, and rightly so.
So she'd asked him, "Is this for me, Ron, or the merger?"
Surely enough, he didn't reply, and she'd gotten her answer from his unspoken words. He wouldn't call off the engagement. Not for anything in this world...well, except for a richer heiress that wasn't her.
He needed her. He needed King Corp.
It was the only reason he wouldn't end things with her for what she'd done. Definitely not because he loved her.
Now, she stared at everywhere but the stage where the man of the hour was speaking of his success story. No one knew much about him, so everyone listened with rapt attention.
Ivette tried to disengage from the feelings of hatred coursing through her but nothing worked. Everyone shot glances her way as he spoke and she was having a hard time keeping the hate from her expression.
It was getting hard to hold the mask of boredom and nonchalance.
She felt hot inside. There was a burning hot furnace underneath her skin and she needed to get it out. More sweat trickled down her temple and the shivering started in full force.
Her companions didn't notice her ailment. Or maybe she was just that good at hiding it. Her mouth felt dry and there was nothing but alcohol and emptied water cans on the round table she say by. Water. She needed more water.
The ushers were no where near her and she wasn't about to call her attention to herself by calling out to one of them.
Christ. She should've stayed in. How would she get through the--
"Thank you for your time, Cian,"Alivia cheered and the hall applauded Cian as he walked off the stage.
For a brief moment, his eyes swept over the crowd, in search of something, someone. As if catching himself, he jerked and walked down the daiz rather quickly, easing a broad smile to his face. His nose was a bright shade of pink, but otherwise, it seemed fine. Golden boy's nose wasn't so broken anymore. Perhaps she should have shoved the wine bottle up his nostrils instead.
Aaron's hand found hers as the host announced, "Introducing the couple who have set grounds and broken our records this year and have done so every year, two individuals, whose contributions and progress in the world of business have surged higher and faster than it is believable. Ivette King and Aaron Maxwell!"
Ivette winced at the sound of the applause. It sounded like thunder claps in her head. So loud. So damned loud it hurt her head terribly.
She stood on shaky feet and had Aaron not been behind her, she might have stumbled.
Too many people. Too many voices. She placed a foot forward, and another, and another. She shoved air down her lungs and swallowed the bile forming in her mouth.
Nausea hit her, threatening to knock her out. She fought back. She need to get through this conference. For the company. For the family name. For her reputation she'd so carefully built for years.
She needed to get on that stage.
It was all she repeated in her head, until she reached the red carpeted steps. Until she took those steps up to the white cushion Cian had been seated only a few minutes ago. She could swear his scent still lingered in the air.
She settled on the couch beside Aaron and crossed her legs. Her fingers trembled as comms were fixed to the lapel of her white suit.
"Hello," She said into the comm, forcing a bright smile.
"Hello Alivia. Good to see you again,"Aaron cooed, charmingly, placing a hand over her still trembling fingers. A small display of affection that wouldn't go unnoticed by the entire hall.
The diamond on her engagement ring sparkled brightly under the soft light that rested on her and Aaron and she wondered if he'd gotten this ring specifically for this moment.
"Congratulations on your engagement. Do invite us all for the wedding," Alivia smiled, putting the cue cards away.
"Of course." Aaron replied.
The woman's sharp gaze took in Ivette and Ivette watched the woman study her with keen interest. "Ten award categories, Ms. King. I must say, you brought an excellent game this year, edging closer to the peak than ever. What was your motivation?"
Ivette laughed a little. "Success is as good a motivation as any."
The woman nodded. "Indeed. How does it feel like to have won the Most Successful Businesswoman of the year for the fifth time in a row?"
Ivette beamed, even as her fever grew worse. "Ah, that's a tricky one."
The audience laughed, as did Aaron and Alivia.
"Will you be retiring after the merger between King Corp and Maxwell Industries?"
The question was a punch to her gut, and before could tell the host no, Aaron cut in smoothly with deep laughter. "Inquisitive, are we? In due time."
The woman nodded, clearly having more questions but thinking better of it.
Ivette let out a sigh when she began questioning Aaron, and Ivette zoned out for the most of it. She was so cold. She needed out of here immediately. Her eyes started to sting and her breaths came faster.
Her body felt heavy and she wanted to rest. Under tons of blankets. Maybe add a cup of tea and honey to the list. Perhaps, add MacD's extra large burger and fries to the list too. Yeah. Definitely ill. She didn't eat fries.
Just when she started to feel like she would make the empty space beside her on the couch into a toilet, Alivia concluded her interrogations.
With every step off the platform, her breakfast rose to her belly and her vision blurred.
"I--I need to use the restroom," she muttered weakly to Aaron.
If he noticed how pale she looked, he didn't let on. He nodded curtly and Ivette rushed out of the hall, needing to throw up.
The exit door was closer than the bathroom so she took it, resisting the urge to run as the nauseous feeling grew and grew.
************
Burning hell.
He had no idea why he was following the lass.
Watching her speak on stage, she'd taken his breath away yet again. She was so beautiful, it hurt to look at her.
But he'd looked, and he'd noticed something off.
He didn't know what it was but something wasn't right. It was why he was currently walking out through another doorway, trailing her.
He knew he was out of his mind, going after her. She'd probably break his nose and a couple of teeth this time if she caught him near her.
That didn't stop him from walking.
He rounded the corner he was sure she took and he paused.
The lass was leaning against a wall, breathing fast. She braced an arm against the wall panting, and as he inched towards her, she lurched.
He swiveled out of the way before any of the vomit could get on him.
She gagged again, throwing up her breakfast and kohl stained tears ran down her cheeks as she hit her her chest.
His feet moved faster than he could register and he was instantly by her side, patting her back.
She flinched, staggering out of his touch. "Don't touch me." She whispered tiredly, wiping the corner of her lips with the sleeve of her tux.
Her eyes were hollow, tired. She looked so pale. He extended a finger to feel for her forehead but she smacked his hand way before he could touch her.
Wildcat. Even when she was weak, she'd still fight. He liked that about her. Liked it too much, it was unnerving.
"f**k off." She bit out, glaring daggers at him.
"f**k off?" He echoed incredulously. "Where, pray tell, is your fiance while you litter the floors with such delightful colors?"
Her lips pursed, but she said nothing.
He inched a step forward and she took one back. "Are you ill, lass?"
"It's none of your business." She retorted and paused slightly. "Don't call me lass."
"What shall I call you then?"
"Don't call me. Don't talk to me. Stay the hell away from me, Cian."
Cian.
It was the first time she'd said his name. It felt like a lover's caress and he shuddered. She was doing things to him. Occupying his thoughts. His mind.
He didn't understand himself around her. There was no control with her. He knew he should walk away from her and never look back. Only then would his life go back to the way it used to be. Only then would he have his wits about him again.
But he couldn't walk away from her.
And it had nothing to do with being ill.
"You're not well. Let me take you home."
"I'd sooner eat gravel than let you 'anything' me."
"Then you must have poor taste buds."
"What?"
"I assure you, I taste much better than gravel."
She blinked and her lips parted, no doubt to cuss at him but a sharp sigh escaped her and she swayed.
He lunged for her before she could fall and he caught her just in time before she could fall in her own vomit--never mind that he'd stepped in it to catch her.
"Lass?" He called out, shaking her lightly. She didn't move. Her eyes were closed, features perturbed and breathing ragged.
She'd passed out.
In his arms.
He needed to read more books. So he would know what to do with a passed out lass in a parking lot.
Because he wasn't sure what to do.
- Writer
