10. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Harvey
One minute, we’re talking, and the next, she’s collapsing.
I catch her in my arms before she hits the ground. Esme rushes up next to me, concern evident in her wide eyes. I tell her to call an ambulance, urgency creeping into my tone.
People surround us, murmuring and gasping, so I hold her tighter, cradling her gently against my chest.
“Oliver,” I say quietly as I nod toward the crowd. “Move them.” I need some space, and I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her in this moment.
Her heat seeps through the fabric of my shirt, and the faintness of her warm breath hits my neck, so at least I know she’s breathing.
I move her from the hallway and into a nearby spare room. As I lay her down on her left side, I’m struck by her softened features. Her usual hard lines are nowhere in sight. Loose hair tendrils of her curly brown hair stick to her perspired forehead, so I reach out, grazing my fingertips to brush them away. I’m now able to see her delicate pale face. It’s painted in light makeup, which accentuates her natural beauty.
I shrug out of my jacket and lay it over her. Keeping one hand on her arm, I wait patiently for her to wake.
Esme is back quickly, and I instruct her to go grab some water. As I watch her hurry off, my attention returns to the unconscious woman. The muscles beneath my hand twitch, drawing my focus. I look up at her face and notice her eyelids slightly fluttering.
I shush her softly, hoping to soothe her even in her unconscious state, and gently encourage her to stay relaxed. Soon, the sound of sirens fills the air, and the ambulance arrives. I step back, allowing the paramedics to take over, my arms crossing across my chest as I watch them work.
“What happened?” my brother Evan whispers, concern etched in his voice.
“She fainted,” I reply, filled with worry.
He nods in understanding. “Do you need anything?” he asks, his hand reassuringly squeezing my shoulder.
“Not unless you want to help Esme with seeing this party out.”
“Yeah, if you want,” he offers, his willingness evident.
“Thanks. I want to take her home.”
“Of course you do,” he murmurs teasingly, but I couldn’t care less about what anyone thinks.
He wanders off to assist Esme, and soon the EMT arrive and approach us. She informs me that Jemima’s fainting appears to be due to low blood sugar and low blood pressure. My throat tightens as I realize she hasn’t had anything to eat or drink since she arrived.
After Jemima wakes up, we move her into a chair where they can start an IV for hydration and ask for juice or soda, plus a sandwich, which Jeremy quickly goes to find. I explain that I have a private doctor who will meet us at home, where they can reassess her. They agree not to take her to the hospital, if her blood pressure and sugar improve after they re-check.
Jeremy returns with the food and drink, and the paramedics encourage her to eat and drink, which she does.
Fifteen minutes later, they check her vitals and sugars again, and they’re happy with the results. They finish the IV before tidying up.
Once they leave with Esme, I squat down beside Jemima, gently brushing a stray lock of brown hair from her forehead.
“Are you ready to go home?” I ask softly.
“Mmm,” she murmurs tiredly, her response barely audible.
I pull my phone and send a message to my driver, arranging for him to meet us outside. When he texts me to say that he’s waiting downstairs, I carefully scoop her up into my arms. A small sound escapes her lips at the movement, causing my heart to beat harder.
“Are you alright?” I ask, hoping she’s not going to faint again.
“Mmm.” She snuggles in closer to me as I make my way to the elevators. “I still hate you.” she whispers weakly.
I chuckle. “Glad to see your mouth still works.”
We reach the car, and my driver opens the door, allowing me to sit her in the back seat carefully. I climb in and she lies down to rest her head on my lap before we head off to my penthouse. Along the short journey, I can’t help but steal glances at her resting face and then over her body. She's in a sleek black dress, the fabric clinging to her curves in a flattering way. I find myself mesmerized by her.
Ten minutes later, we arrive at my house, where the soft glow of lights welcomes us. Cradling her in my arms, I step out of the car, the cool night air swirling around us. With the help of my driver, I carry her inside.
For a moment, I look around, contemplating leaving her on the plush sofa, but a pang in my gut hates the idea. What about the guest room? My gaze flicks to the doorway that leads there. However, if something were to happen to her, I wouldn’t know. That only leaves one place. My bed.
Though I’m hesitant, I know it’s the best choice for her comfort and safety. I walk her to the opposite side of the bed to where I usually sleep and lower her down onto the soft mattress.
She curls into a ball and snuggles into the pillow, breathing steadily. Stepping back, I take her in, the gentle rise and fall of her chest a reassuring sight. She looks peaceful.
The loud ring of my phone breaks the silence.
Without hesitation, I reach for it, eager to answer the call. Doctor Scott is waiting outside my door, so I let him in.
After I explain the situation, he agrees that she’ll be fine after some rest. The paramedics had already treated her with an IV, and as soon as she wakes up, I’ll feed her again. Happy with the course of action, he leaves.
I wander back to my room and text Esme to check that the party is okay without me and to thank her for helping.
She assures me it is and asks how Jemima is. I tell her she’s resting, then toss my phone on my side of the bed and decide I need a shower.
Pulling at my tie, I step into the bathroom and leave the door ajar in case she stirs. I remove my shirt and start the shower. The room fills with steam.
I’m nearly delusional with sleepiness from a long week. So I step into the steamy hot shower and wash away tonight's disaster.
Coming out of the bathroom with damp hair, I see she still hasn’t moved. I approach her but hesitate, my fingers hovering over her shoes. With a gentle touch, I unbuckle the straps and remove them one at a time. I ignore how soft her skin is and how cute her purple painted nails are and focus on making her comfortable. So I pull the covers up and tuck her in.
With a sigh, I walk around and slip beneath the covers. It doesn’t take long until I’m fully knocked out. Maybe it’s because the sound of her breathing felt like a lullaby.
There’s a hand on my morning wood. My eyes snap open as I look down to find tousled brown hair on my side, her hand between my legs.
I don’t move.
What should I do?
My heart is pumping as I feel her strong and long fingers wrapped around me. I don’t know if she’s dreaming, but fuck, I think she is. Plus, when she wakes up and realizes she did this… Now that's going to be fucking priceless.
She nestles her face into my skin. I’m only in my boxers. When my breath catches at her grip on me, she stills, and I count…3…2…1.
Sitting up in a rush, she drops her hand and spins around to look at me.
“Be careful,” I warn, already missing her hand on my cock. “Now, if you want to go back to holding my dick, I’d love it if you moved your hand up and down.”
Her face turns pink. A much better color than last night.
“I’m not touching you.”
“Sorry, but you already did.”
She grunts and grumbles, “You’re unbelievable,” then pulls the covers off her legs and gets out of my bed.
I slip out of my side in a rush, scared she’ll run away.
“Please stay. Have a shower, eat, and I’ll drop you off at home.”
I must have said something right because she exhales heavily and says, “Fine. Do you have a spare toothbrush?”
“What do you think this is, a pharmacy?”
“No, but you know…”
“You think I’m a manwhore.”
“Aren’t you?” She raises an eyebrow.
I shake my head, disappointment filling me. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't have a spare toothbrush. You're welcome to use mine.”
Her face scrunches. “That’s gross.”
I shrug. “Whatever, buttercup, I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
“Wait…” she starts to say, and I turn, curiosity settling in.
“Can I maybe have some clean clothes?”
“I don’t have a women's department store here, but you can take my clothes,” I offer, moving to my wardrobe and pulling out a t-shirt and some sweatpants. “This is all I have.”
She gives me a small smile. I leave the room, allowing her to freshen up in peace. There's water and crackers by the bed, so if she wants them before breakfast, she can have them.
Moments later, I hear the shower. It’s strange having an attractive woman in my penthouse showering. She’s the first but, surprisingly, I don’t hate it. As she’s showering, I can’t help but imagine her using my soap to wash herself, picturing what her body looks like without her dress.
I’m going to blame it on the fact her hand was on my cock this morning.
A little while later, I’m dishing up bacon, eggs, toast, and potatoes. I eye her up and down as she crosses into the kitchen and almost choke on my tongue. She’s in my T-shirt and nothing else, though to be fair, the T-shirt settles at the top of her knees.
I shake my head, trying to focus.
“Hey,” I say casually, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “Feeling hungry?”
“Yeah, a little.”
“Did you want to sit at the dining table or here?” I gesture to the large marble island with stools where the morning light comes through the blinds.
“Here is fine. I won’t hold you up much longer.”
“It’s fine, really.” I lower a plate in front of her, the food neatly arranged, steam rising from the hot plate.
“Thanks. I have to get home anyway.”
“The doctor is on his way. Once he’s seen you, I can take you home.”
She doesn't pick up her silverware, pausing instead. Her fingers brush the edge of the plate but don’t lift it. “I don’t need a doctor.”
“Yes, you do. You fainted last night.”
She drops her gaze to the floor and murmurs, “I can’t afford one.”
“It’s my doctor and I’ll pay.”
I can practically see the steam coming from her ears.
“You can’t throw money at everything.”
“It helps.” I try to lighten the mood, but I see the flicker of frustration in her eyes.
She shakes her head vehemently.
“Please.” I soften my tone. “You scared the fuck out of me last night. And…”
“And what?”
“You owe me, you know, for touching me.” I give her a playful wink, hoping to ease the tension.
Her eyes widen in horror, and she puts a hand up between us like a stop sign. “We are never to discuss this morning again.”
“Why are you embarrassed?”
“About accidentally touching you? I’m not embarrassed. I’m absolutely mortified.”
“I didn’t think I was that repulsive.”
She rubs her face in exasperation, and it softens her sharp words. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Would you like some juice, tea, or coffee?” I ask, trying to move things along.
“I’m starting to think there’s something wrong with you.”
“Why’s that?”
Her eyes narrow, lips pressed together. “Because you're being unusually nice.”
“Do you want me to be a jerk? I’m just trying to take your Starbucks order.”
She must find it hard to resist because she eventually gives in and asks me for a chai latte. I place the order on my phone and settle on a stool beside her to eat.
After we finish eating, she asks to wait on the sofa for the doctor. I can’t shake the feeling that she’s not feeling well, but she insists she’s just full and in need of a nap.
The doctor arrives, pleased with Jemima’s observations, and leaves, after she promises to take better care of herself.
“Ready to head home now?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’ve got a lot to do, including meeting up with a friend who’s probably waiting for me.” She sits up, holding her Starbucks, sipping slowly.
“Just work and family stuff. Nothing urgent. It was nice meeting your brothers last night, and thanks for the help with the introductions.”
“What helps you, helps me.”
“Are you close with your family?” she asks.
I’m surprised by the sudden personal question, but rather than question it, I just answer.
“Yeah, we’re pretty close. And you?” I ask.
She hesitates slightly, her fingers stilling for a moment before she meets my gaze. The shift is subtle, but it’s enough for me to notice. What’s behind the pause? But I don’t get time to dwell on it.
“My dad died over a year ago, and my mom’s off traveling the world. She doesn’t want to be tied down to one place.”
I understand what she means, but she didn’t quite answer my question.
“But are you close with her?” I ask again.
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
She stands from the sofa and gathers her belongings. Returning to the living room, she’s ready to leave, so I grab my keys.
Dressed in a matching beige sweat suit, while she's standing in just my shirt.
“Did you want a jacket?” I ask.
“No, I’m fine.”
“It’s cold out,” I persist.
“Harvey, enough. I’m fine.” Her voice wobbles slightly, but I don’t overthink it. She’s probably just tired and shaken up. I’ll crank up the heater in the car.
We ride in silence until we reach her apartment block. As I park, I move to unbuckle, but her hand lands on my chest, halting me. My gaze drops to where her hand touches me, igniting a fire beneath my clothes.
“Stay, please. You’ve done more than enough.”
I sigh. “Alright.”
She withdraws her hand away, dropping her chin.
“Thanks again… for everything.”
“Don’t forget to return my shirt.”
A faint smile quirks her lips, easing the tension between us. “Never. It’s mine now.”
“We’ll see about that.”
But deep down, I know it looks better on her than it ever did on me. As she exits the car, she pauses to say, “I’ll see you Monday. Don’t be late, pretty boy.”
With a smirk, she closes the door, heading up the stairs of her brick apartment building. I find myself exhaling and admiring her for a second before remembering I have a lot of work to do.