Chapter 24
Lucas
Iwake up to sharp claws pushing into my chest. I open my eyes and stare at Alexis’s large green ones that blink slowly at me as she stretches.
“Urgh, that’s my skin, sweetie,” I grumble. “Could you just shift for a sec?” She stands up, giving me side eye, and struts away as I sit up.
I feel a lot better than I did earlier. The throbbing headache I had has finally receded, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
A smile spreads over my face as I listen to Amelia doing something in the kitchen downstairs. I thought she would show up, drop off the files, and leave. But instead, she’s playing nurse, and… I don’t hate it.
In fact, it’s been nice having her here. She’s come to check on me regularly, pressing cold towels on my forehead and leaving me water and pain relievers.
I glance at my bedside, reaching for the Tylenol beside me and swallowing them down as I swing my legs over the side of the bed. But as I sit fully upright, my head starts to pound again, and I curse under my breath.
Okay, maybe not fully recovered.
I rise, walking slowly to the bathroom to pee, before heading to the balcony that looks down on the lower floor of the apartment. I pull a t-shirt from the back of a chair and tug it over my head.
Looking down into the living room, I see Amelia in the kitchen. She’s cooking something that smells delicious. I run my eye over her beautiful figure, the sparkling barrettes in her hair, and those endless, sexy legs. She’s barefoot, and I can hear her humming to herself.
It’s nice to have someone in my home again. Megan rarely spent time here. The first day she came to the apartment, she bitched about how high up it was, complaining that she had always had a fear of heights.
From that day on she insisted I went to her place instead. She didn’t set foot in my apartment more than a dozen times in our whole relationship. It didn’t help that she was terrified of Gerald, and Alexis would attack her ankles every time she came within five feet of her.
Frowning, I glance around for my peacock, worried he’ll be starving. I haven’t fed him for two days. But I relax when I see him below me, pecking at some food Amelia must have left out for him.
“You’re awake.” I look back at her. She’s smiling up at me, and it’s so dazzling I’m momentarily speechless. “I made some food. You might not have much of an appetite, but do you want to come down?”
I don’t reply, shaken by how domestic this all is.
I make my way slowly down the stairs, heading to the kitchen island and pulling out one of the barstools. Before I’ve even sat down, she’s placed another glass of purple liquid in front of me and put a thin blanket over my shoulders.
“You’re shivering.”
The feel of her cool hand against my forehead is wonderful, and I pull away, trying to work through the foreign feeling of contentment. Part of me wants to pull her against me and never let her go.
I tug the blanket around my shoulders more tightly, watching her go back to cooking.
“What are you making?” I ask.
“It’s chicken soup,” she says, handing me her phone, which is open to a recipe. Without meaning to, I lock it, and when I click the button to open it again, I see a photo of Amelia and a younger woman on her lock screen. They’re both gorgeous, grinning at the camera.
“Is that your sister?” I ask, and she quickly takes the phone back again.
“Yeah.”
“What’s her name?”
There’s a slight hesitation before she answers. “Annabelle.”
That’s all she says, but I’m pretty certain there's something going on she’s not telling me about. I’m curious, but I don’t press.
There’s a throbbing in my ears, and I’m beginning to sweat. I’m thinking about going back to bed when the doorbell rings.
God, I hope that isn’t my mom.
“Want me to get it?” Amelia asks.
“It’s okay, I can do it.” I get off the stool and walk to the video phone on the wall. As the screen flickers to life, the familiar face of Roy, the concierge, comes into view.
“Mr. Crawford, I have a Mr. Crawford here to see you.”
My brother Charlie’s face looms into shot. “Hey, big bro, been sent to check you’re still breathing.”
I groan, rolling my eyes. “Thanks, Roy, send him up.”
Turning, I quickly remove the blanket from my shoulders and glance at Amelia, who’s ladling soup into a bowl.
“It’s my brother. I need him to think I’m okay. My mom worries, and I do not want her coming here.”
“You have a fever, Mr. Crawford.”
“I know I have a fever, and you can call me Lucas when you’re in my damned house.”
Why the hell did I say that?
She blinks at me, coming out from the counter. “Is he on his way up?”
“Yes. I need to change.”
I turn to go up the stairs. “Seriously?” she says, sounding exasperated. “Your brother will understand if you’re sick. People get sick, you know.”
“You don’t know my mother, Amelia. If he tells her I’m under a blanket like some pathetic loser, she’ll be here within half an hour. I can’t deal with her right now.”
I jolt back as a strong hand curls around my arm and yanks me back onto the barstool. I’m so shocked, I don’t say a word.
“Stay where you are. If you insist on acting stupid, I’ll get your clothes. Wait here, and drink some water.”
I watch her march away, amusement thrumming through me. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a bossy bitch?” I call after her.
“Annabelle has. Many times,” she throws back at me, and I find myself chuckling. She’s seriously pushy when she’s trying to be in charge, and I can’t say I dislike it.
After a few minutes, she returns with a light sweater and some jeans for me, and she helps me get into them. I feel ridiculous having to lean on her so heavily, but I’m seriously weak.
She straightens, giving me an assessing stare as the elevator dings. “Shall I go greet him?”
“Yeah, thanks. His name’s Charlie, and he’s a pain in the ass.”
She disappears around the corner, and I listen to the sound of hushed voices drifting through the hall toward me.
I feel myself stiffen immediately as he appears. My brother’s eyes are alive with interest as he laughs at something Amelia has said.
Charlie is twenty-nine, much closer to Amelia’s age than me, and has a way with the ladies. Jealousy rises like a cobra, and I have to fight the ridiculous urge to throw him out of the apartment.
“You look beautiful,” he says teasingly to me as he dumps a bag on my kitchen counter. “Except for the fact that your face has the complexion of a ghost.”
“Wow, thanks, Charlie.”
Amelia laughs as she goes back into the kitchen. “You want some food, Charlie?” she asks. “I made too much.”
Charlie grins. “Definitely.” Then he looks at me and lowers his voice. “Uh, who’s the goddess?”
“She’s my executive assistant. Roll your tongue back in.”
His eyes follow Amelia discreetly around the kitchen. “Oh my God, I would get nothing done.”
“Would you shut your mouth?” I growl, and he jumps up onto the barstool next to me as Amelia places two steaming bowls of soup in front of us with some sourdough bread on the side.
Charlie takes a deep inhale. “Wow. That smells awesome.”
“Thanks,” Amelia says, handing me a spoon. “It’s a recipe I’ve perfected over the years. This kitchen is amazing to cook in.”
I smile, liking that she approves of my home. My eyes linger on her hair as she goes back to the sink.
When I glance at Charlie, he’s watching me curiously, his eyes flicking to Amelia and back to me.
“So, how long have you worked for my brother?” he says, turning to Amelia. “I bet he’s an asshole of a boss, right?”
“Charlie,” I say warningly.
“About three weeks,” Amelia replies, “and he has his moments.”
I stare at her. “Excuse me? I have my moments?” I exclaim.
“Well, you can be kind of… abrupt when you need someone to do something for you. I don’t think you’ve said please or thank you to me since I started.”
“That tracks,” Charlie says with a grin. “Lucas thinks everyone was born to do his bidding.”
“I do not,” I say, sounding like a four-year-old, and raise my eyes to the ceiling when my brother throws his head back and belly laughs.
“I can tell he’s not feeling good; he’s usually better at comebacks than this.”
We both taste the soup for the first time, and I glance at him. Charlie and I are used to the best food New York has to offer, not to mention my mother’s excellent cooking, but I can tell by his expression that he’s just as surprised as I am. This is the best soup I’ve ever tasted.
“Holy shit,” Charlie says. “This is incredible. You’re wasting your talents working for my brother. You should own your own restaurant.”
“Thanks,” she says, blushing a little.
And, Charlie, you have no idea what kind of talents this woman possesses.
A wave of dizziness hits, and I let out a long sigh. Amelia is beside me in seconds, handing me a tall glass of ice water. She doesn’t say anything, but I can tell she’s worried.
Charlie is quiet beside me, and I look over at him, but he’s staring into his soup with a little smile on his face.
Throughout the rest of the meal, Charlie asks Amelia several questions about how I am as a boss. He also offers her a job at a company he hasn’t even started.
It’s nice seeing her laugh. By the time I’ve finished my soup, the dizziness has subsided, but my headache is returning. It’s good to see my brother, but I wish he’d leave. Amelia is right—I need to sleep.
Amelia clears the plates away and heads to the bathroom.
“She’s a firecracker,” Charlie says earnestly. “If you don’t ask her out, I will.”
I grimace at him. “She’s my employee, Charlie. I am not asking her out.”
“Oh, thank God. Can I? I bet she’d say yes.”
I bite my tongue to stop myself from snapping out my response of “over my dead body”. I can’t bear the thought of him speaking to her, let alone taking her out on a date.
That body is mine.
“What’s the deal between you two, anyway?” Charlie continues. “She’s your EA, but she’s in your apartment and helping you when you’re sick? Is that really in her job description?”
I rise, pick up his plate, and go to the sink. The floor seems to shift beneath my feet as I walk the short distance, the walls spinning. I don’t want him to know how sick I feel, and I turn to face him, leaning heavily onto the kitchen counter.
“You sure you two aren’t sleeping together?” Charlie asks with a smirk. “Because it sure looks like there’s more between you than just employer and employee.”
“She’s here because I pay her to be, Charlie,” I grit out.
The truth of those words is like a slap in the face. My gut clenches. Amelia is only here because I pay her. She’d probably get on her knees right now and suck me off if I asked her to.
And I’ll never know if she really wants to, or if she is just doing it for the money.
Worry skitters through me as I think of how good it has felt having her here with me. I shouldn’t feel attached to her, I shouldn’t care that she’s taken care of me. But I do.
“Thanks for stopping by, Charlie,” I say abruptly, “but I don’t want to make you sick, too.”
Charlie laughs. “I knew you’d want to get rid of me as soon as I got here. Mom sent some food for you. It’s in the bag on the counter, but I’m not gonna tell her how good Amelia’s soup is. I think she’d get jealous.”
He hops off the stool and grabs his messenger bag, slinging it over his shoulder and saluting me.
“Call mom and tell her you’re alive, would ya?” he says as he backs out of the kitchen.
“Why can’t you do that?” I ask.
“Because she won’t believe me. She thinks you’re at death's door.”
“It’s just a cold.”
“You look like shit.”
“I thought you were leaving.”
He laughs again as Amelia reappears and waves goodbye, thanking her for the food. She heads into the kitchen as I follow my brother out to make sure he leaves.
My body is thrumming with a weird kind of energy that I can’t get rid of. The anger I feel at the thought of Charlie touching Amelia has morphed into anger at myself. I shouldn’t be having fucked up possessive thoughts about her, but I can’t help it.
I don’t want her to leave, fantasizing about her being in my bed with me later, just to cuddle. My fists clench angrily.
Once Charlie has gone, I walk back into the kitchen. Amelia is standing at the sink washing up, her long hair lying against her back in soft waves that I’m desperate to run my fingers through.
“What are you still doing here?” I say, hearing the anger in my voice, powerless to prevent it.
She turns, her mouth open in an ‘o’ of surprise. “What? I just thought I’d clean up for you.”
“I don’t need you to do that. I asked you here to help with work. It’s late, go home.”
I turn my back on her, heading to the couch. I slump into the seat, and instantly regret it as blood rushes around my body, making my head pound painfully.
Amelia dries her hands and moves around the kitchen island, looking lost.
“Do you need anything before I go? I could run you a bath?”
Yes, get in it with me, and I can wrap my legs around you and we can just stay there.
“Just leave. I’m in no state to fuck and that’s all I pay you for.”
I freeze, the cruelty of my own words shocking me. What the fuck did I just say?
I don’t want to look at her, but my eyes are dragged back to her face, and for the first time, I see Amelia truly angry. Her lips are pressed together in a hard line, and she glares at me.
“You’re an asshole,” she snaps, grabs her bag, and stalks out of my apartment.
I stare after her, desperate to call her back and drag her into my arms.
I sit silently, listening to the elevator as she leaves. I try to ignore the churning, unpleasant feeling rising within me. It feels an awful lot like heartache.