Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Bea barely remembered getting home.
She’d felt it creeping in last night: a scratch in her throat, heaviness settling behind her eyes. She ignored it, brushing it off as exhaustion from the beach and the lingering chill of the night.
She forced herself to go to her morning classes, but by lunch, the fever had fully set in, dragging her limbs like lead, forcing her to retreat to Mayfield Hall.
The air outside had been warm, but she shivered the entire way, arms wrapped around herself, head pounding with every step. By the time she made it to her apartment, she kicked off her shoes, crawled into bed, and pulled the blankets over her head.
Then—nothing.
Or close to it. Her own restless breath. Once, she’d reached for her phone, half lucid. Her parents were too far away. So was Claire. She’d almost typed Gage’s name. Then stopped.
Soft clattering in the kitchen stirred her awake.
Bea blinked blearily. The light filtering through the window had shifted, golden and faint. It was morning.
Her body felt heavy, unwilling to move. Her mouth was dry. Her throat burned.
“Bea?” came a muffled voice outside her door. Georgina.
Bea made a noise of protest, shifting onto her side.
Georgie opened the door, arms crossed, assessing her. “You’re not getting up,” she observed.
“I overslept.”
“You don’t oversleep.” Georgina stepped in. “You didn’t respond to my message last night. Didn’t hear you moving around. You were already in bed when I got back.”
Bea exhaled with the effort to push herself up. The room tilted.
“Lie down before you fall over,” Georgina said, then disappeared. A moment later, she returned, pressing a warm mug into Bea’s hands.
Honey lemon tea.
Bea cradled it weakly, breathing in the steam. “Thanks.”
“Have you told Gage?”
“No.”
Her brows lifted.
“He’s busy,” Bea mumbled, focusing on the mug. “It’s just a fever. I’ll be fine.”
Georgina scoffed. “Yeah. He’s going to love that logic.”
Bea’s attempt at a glare fizzled out halfway, leaving her squinting at the mug instead.
“You know he’s going to find out,” Georgie said, sipping her own tea. “And when he does, he’ll be annoyed that you didn’t tell him first.”
Bea sighed, groggy but not oblivious. Georgina was right.
She picked up her phone, scrolling through her notifications. There were a few from Gage last night, just routine check-ins. She hadn’t answered.
Swallowing, she typed a quick message.
BEA CRUZ: Hey. Just a heads up, I think I have a fever. Went home yesterday and still feel off today.
She hit Send, then placed the phone on the nightstand.
Georgina tapped the rim of her mug. “Three, two—”
Bea’s phone vibrated.
Incoming call: Gage King
Georgina smirked, catching his name on the screen.
Bea gaped up at her, then answered.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Bea swallowed. “It’s just a fever—”
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
He hung up, leaving Bea staring at her phone.
Georgina grinned into her tea. “Told you.”
Fifty-six minutes later, Gage walked into the apartment.
Bea was half asleep in her bed, wrapped in blankets, when the door swung open. His presence filled the space before he even spoke.
He crossed the room, pressing the back of his fingers to her forehead. “Have you eaten anything?”
She shook her head.
“Rest, sweetheart. I’ll be back in a bit.”
She heard him moving in the kitchen. Bea listened drowsily as bags rustled, water ran, cabinets opened and closed.
She dozed.
When he finally returned, he set a bowl of steaming porridge on her bedside table. The scent of warm rice and garlic filled the space.
Bea blinked. “Juk?”
“It’s mild. Eat some.”
She sat up weakly. He handed her a spoon. She looked at it.
“Bea,” he said patiently. “Eat.”
She took a small bite. Warmth spread through her.
She licked her lips. “It’s good.”
He didn’t acknowledge the compliment. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday you were sick?”
Bea swallowed, shifting under the weight of his gaze. “It’s the end of semester. And you’ve got work, too. I didn’t want to be a bother.”
His expression didn’t change. But something in the air realigned.
“Do I make you feel like a burden?” he asked.
Bea thought about it. Or tried to. Her mind was sluggish as she sifted through memories that blurred together. The food he sent to her when she was studying, the skincare at his penthouse, the car he’d lent her. He was always initiating care without her asking for it.
“No,” she said earnestly.
A pause. “Then don’t act like one.”
Bea bit her lip.
His eyes went to the bowl. “Keep eating.”
She did.
He sat beside her on the bed, pulling out his laptop.
Bea glanced over as he settled in, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Like he had already decided he wasn’t leaving.
Her chest felt warm, and it had nothing to do with the fever.
She took another spoonful of juk.
The sun moved slowly across the windows, laying new shadows on the floor as time stretched from morning to late-afternoon. Inside, Gage worked.
Every so often, he reached over to check her temperature or tuck the blanket around her when she dozed. Like she was his responsibility. Like she had always been his.
Bea stirred awake, disoriented.
The apartment was dim. Time had slipped again. Her body still felt sluggish, but the thought of lying in bed any longer made her restless.
With effort, she pushed back the blankets and sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes.
She padded toward the balcony, drawn by the low murmur of voices.
She stopped just before the sliding door.
Georgina and Gage stood near the railing, their conversation hushed. Gage looked entirely at home, one hand resting on the steel rail, the other tucked into his pocket. Georgina said something too low for Bea to catch. He shook his head.
They both noticed her there.
Gage walked back in. His hand cupped her cheek, gentle and cool. “You’re still warm.”
Bea stiffened, trying to pull back. “You’ll get sick.”
Instead of moving away, Gage drew her slowly against him.
She sighed, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. His touch was so grounding.
She needed water. And paracetamol.
Bea pulled away, reaching for the bottle on the kitchen counter.
He followed. “How high is your fever?”
“Moderately high,” she replied to Gage, swallowing the pills with a sip of water.
“You’ve been sick for two days.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“If you’re still running hot in the morning, we’re going to the doctor.”
“Gage—”
“Or I’ll send for one to come here,” he said flatly.
She balked at him. “You can’t just—”
“I can.”
“That’s a bit much.”
“Well, this is where I leave you two,” Georgina said, amused. “Looks like you’re well looked after, Bea.”
Gage lifted a brow, entirely unfazed, as Georgina crossed to her own bedroom and shut the door.
Bea exhaled. “Fine,” she relented. “Let’s see what happens in the morning.”
Gage gave a satisfied nod. Then he pulled her back into him.
Bea sighed, let herself be held. Let him take care of her.
The clinic was the same one Bea had been to before. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly, sterile and bright. Gage sat beside her, tapping emails on his phone.
The nurse called her name. They stood, following her to the exam room. Temperature, vitals, the usual. The doctor asked questions, and skimmed through her file, looking overall unconcerned.
“I expect your fever should break in the next twenty-four hours,” he said after a while. “But once it does, I’d still like you to rest for another day before you go back to anything strenuous.”
Bea nodded lethargically.
Then he frowned slightly at the screen, adjusting his glasses. “Actually—we’ve been trying to contact you for several months.”
Bea blinked. “You have?”
“Yes. There was a clerical error in your phone number, so the messages weren’t getting through.” He turned, clicking onto a different tab. “You had blood work done six months ago, correct?”
“Yeah. Just a standard check.”
“Your results indicate you’re mildly anemic.”
Bea shrugged. “It’s happened before.”
“So you already know you need iron supplements, red meat, and less overwork.”
“Okay,” she agreed, resigned to her fate.
“Put my details as her medical contact,” Gage interjected. Casual, but not really.
Bea turned, questioning.
“I’m already your emergency contact,” he noted.
The doctor’s eyes flicked to Bea, as if to check. She didn’t say anything, so he nodded, turning to the screen. “Name?”
“Gage King.”
The doctor didn’t blink. Just typed. But his eyebrows lifted marginally as though he recognized the name, if not the man.
The doctor closed the file. “You’re free to go. Next time, I suggest you let your medical contact know sooner.”
Bea muttered, “I was fine.”
“Based on what you told me, you were horizontal,” he said, only half amused.
Gage didn’t say anything. But she could feel his satisfaction with the doctor’s orders.
Bea groaned. “Please stop bonding.”
Thankfully, the doctor was right.
By the time evening settled over the city, Bea felt lighter. The fever had dulled to a whisper. She slept soundly, and when morning came, her limbs no longer felt like a weight. The windows were cracked open just enough to let in the crisp, clean mid-morning breeze.
Gage sat on a dining chair he’d brought in and placed next to her bed, dressed in slacks and a pale blue shirt. His laptop was balanced on his knees. He was reviewing something, the furrow in his brow just barely there.
Nothing about his meticulous presence hinted at the fact he’d spent two and a half days watching over her. But he had. Took meetings and made deals while making sure she ate and rested. He’d barely left her apartment.
Bea knew he cared. But this was different.
It didn’t surprise her exactly. Gage wasn’t careless with the things he chose to claim. But the fact he had stayed…felt like maybe he loved her.
He hadn’t said it, but he was showing it.
Bea stretched slightly beneath the blankets. The small movement caught his attention. Without looking up from his screen, he reached for her wrist, pressing his fingers against her pulse.
“I’m alive.” She smiled.
“Your fever’s gone.”
“I feel so much better.”
Bea stood, padded to her ensuite and flicked on the light, wincing at her reflection.
The mirror was merciless—shadows under her eyes, her skin pale from exhaustion.
With a sigh, she brushed her teeth, ran a comb through her hair, and splashed cold water on her face, hoping to erase at least some of the evidence of the past three days.
When she stepped back into the room, Gage was in the same spot, but his laptop was closed now. His fingers rested on his chin, his posture tense.
“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.
His gaze flicked to her, assessing. “Cassian’s been circling a deal of mine,” he said finally.
She remembered the name. Cassian Montenegro. The man from Imperium.
Bea frowned. “I thought you weren’t competing with him.”
“I wasn’t,” Gage said. “But now I am.”
Bea had seen Gage handle pressure. But something about Cassian’s name made her uneasy.
She perched on the edge of the bed. “What makes him different from your other competitors?”
“He doesn’t outbid,” Gage replied after a moment. “He undermines. Legal loopholes, insider rumors, whatever works. And he does it with clean hands.”
“And what does that mean for you?”
Gage exhaled, tilting his head back slightly, his expression unreadable.
Then, finally: “It means what it always does. That I need to win.”
She nodded. She had no doubt.
He adjusted the cuff of his shirt with calm, practiced movements. Bea watched him compartmentalize, his mind folding the thought away like something he’d return to later.
“What do you want to eat?” he asked.
“I’ll just have something small. I can still make my eleven a.m. class.”
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “You’re not going to class.”
Here we go.
“I feel fine now.”
“The doctor said to rest for two days.”
Bea grumbled. “I’ve already missed enough—”
“You’ll catch up.”
“Gage—”
“No.”
She scowled, crossing her arms. “There’s two weeks left of the semester.”
He didn’t even blink. “And?”
“And I have work to do.”
“Your work is to recover.”
“I am recovered.”
He gave her a look. Calm. One that said he was immovable.
“Not yet.” His voice didn’t rise, but it didn’t waver.
Bea pressed her lips together, exhaling through her nose. She had to be smart about this. Georgina had once told her that handling Hunter was about letting him think he was in control, even when he wasn’t. Bea wasn’t Georgina. And Gage wasn’t Hunter.
But maybe she could move Gage. Carefully.
She stood. His eyes tracked her immediately. She moved the laptop aside.
Then slowly she lowered onto his lap, straddling him.
Gage’s expression didn’t change. But his hands found her waist, holding her in place.
She tilted her head, studying him. Blue eyes held hers, the barest shimmer of surprise before his gaze settled back into cool observation.
She leaned in, her lips skimming his jaw, a whisper of pressure. Just warm breath and proximity.
His grip tightened. Not enough to pull her closer. Just enough to show her she was effective.
Bea’s mouth lingered near his ear, her voice light. “Maybe you should double-check,” she said, pressing a slow, lingering kiss just beneath his earlobe.
Her fingers moved, featherlight, across his shoulders, down the fabric of his shirt. She felt his muscles lock.
“What do you think?” She smiled faintly. Sweet. Almost innocent. “Too weak to move?”
His grip firmed, a quiet warning.
“Or well enough to…?” Her fingertips ghosted over the line of his collarbone. A breath. A beat. Silence.
Then—movement. Fast. Effortless.
Her back hit the sheets, Gage’s arms braced on either side of her, his weight pinning her in place.
Bea’s breath hitched as she stared up at him.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”
Heat curled down her spine. “Is it working?” she whispered.
Gage exhaled, almost like a laugh. But not quite. “Should I let you win?”
Her heart kicked hard against her ribs, part triumph, part trepidation, because the look on his face wasn’t amusement. It was advantage.
Then he kissed her. Hard.
And all thoughts fled. Bea melted into him. She forgot about winning. All that mattered was his mouth on hers.
He took her slowly. Thoroughly.
A reminder that if she was well enough to push him, she was well enough to handle him.
Later—when she was trembling and boneless, and he was stretched beside her, fully sated—his voice slipped against her skin, low and amused.
“I guess I should let you go to class.”
A satisfied smile tugged her lips.
She sat up, victorious.
She’d take a win from Gage King, even if it was one he let her have.