Chapter Fourteen
Flynn
I woke to the soft beep of a thermometer lodged in my mouth—definitely not the alarm I’d set. Thin rays of morning light filtered through the gauzy curtains, illuminating the resort suite’s polished tile floor.
Overhead, the quiet hum of the ceiling fan did little to quell the heat radiating from my feverish body. My skin felt clammy, and despite the tropical sunshine of Zanzibar outside, I was shivering beneath layers of blankets.
I tried to sit up, but the moment I moved, a wave of dizziness slammed into me. My head spun, and I sank back into the bed, panting.
Weakness was an unfamiliar feeling for me; usually, my mind was sharp and hyper-focused, but now everything was muffled by a dull fog.
“Flynn, you’re burning up,” came Cedar’s gentle voice. She leaned over me, removing the thermometer from my mouth with one hand while the other pressed lightly against my forehead. Concern etched her features. “Your temperature’s even higher than before.”
Guilt and frustration swirled in my chest. I was supposed to be the one taking care of Cedar—protecting her, helping her learn the ins and outs of my world.
Instead, my body had picked the worst possible time to surrender. “I’m sorry,” I croaked. My throat felt like sandpaper, and I swallowed, hoping to ease the dryness.
“Shhh.” Cedar brushed a few damp strands of hair off my forehead. “No need to apologize. Let’s just focus on getting you better.”
I closed my eyes, still trying to piece my thoughts together. Vague images swam through my head—my uncle’s calculating grin, my mother’s anxious face, the sense of urgency I felt about prepping Cedar to handle my family’s affairs. All of it weighed me down like an anchor.
Cedar’s quiet movements drew me back to the present. She rose and walked to the dresser, where she rummaged through a small bag of medical supplies.
As a doctor, she was used to handling illnesses, but her protective tone hinted at something beyond professional concern.
“I just need to keep your fever under control,” she murmured, pulling out a fresh cool pack from the mini fridge near the window. Outside, I could hear the distant crash of ocean waves and the rustle of palm fronds swaying in the breeze.
On any other day, I would have been soaking in the tranquility of this resort—maybe even helping Cedar enjoy it, too. Instead, the only sound dominating my senses was my own labored breathing.
She draped a cool cloth over my forehead, then placed the fresh pack at the side of my neck. I recoiled at the icy touch, but the relief was immediate. For a few moments, the world felt a bit clearer.
“I’m supposed to be teaching you today,” I rasped, my voice cracking. “We can’t waste time.”
Cedar’s warm gray eyes narrowed in concern. “Stop worrying about that. Your health is more important than any schedule.”
I tried to speak again, but my throat was too dry. Sensing this, Cedar gently lifted a glass of water to my lips. I took a few sips, grateful for the cool liquid soothing my raw throat.
My gaze flickered toward the door leading out to our private patio. The sunlit view of the beach beyond would have been peaceful if not for the heavy weight of responsibility gnawing at my gut.
“Where’s Heather? And Nelly, Laura…?” I managed after a moment. Usually, they’d be swarming around Cedar, showing her etiquette tips or corporate strategies.
“I gave them the day off,” Cedar replied, adjusting the pillow behind my head. “They’ve been working non-stop, and this resort is gorgeous. They should enjoy it, even if just for a few hours. Besides, I want to look after you myself.”
Her gentle smile tugged at my heart. I knew she was exhausted too, learning all those lessons—distinctions between CFO and COO, the perfect angle to hold a wine glass, the social cues of high society.
It was a lot to take in. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. My voice wavered with genuine remorse. “I never asked how you were coping with everything…”
Her brows furrowed, and a tear gathered at the corner of her eye. “This isn’t exactly what I imagined when I signed up for this marriage arrangement,” she admitted softly.
“It’s a lot. But I’m learning how strong I can be.” She exhaled, brushing that tear away. “I’m sorry I’m dumping this on you while you’re sick.”
“Don’t apologize,” I said, forcing myself to reach for her hand. “You’re doing more than I could ever ask.”
She squeezed my fingers, and for a moment, I forgot the ache in my head. I almost wanted to pull her into the bed, to feel her warmth and let her quiet my worries. But the words stuck in my throat, overshadowed by the sense of propriety that lingered between us.
Just then, I noticed she had a plate of pancakes on the nightstand. The comforting smell of maple syrup reached me, but my stomach churned at the thought of eating.
“Flynn, try a bite,” Cedar coaxed, cutting off a small piece. “You need to eat something or you’ll never recover.”
I swallowed hard. My body rebelled against the idea of food. “I don’t know,” I muttered, turning my face away.
She persisted, softening her tone. “Just a little. You can’t take your meds on an empty stomach. And if you don’t, we’ll end up in the hospital—needles and drips.”
The mere mention of needles was enough to force my compliance. I opened my mouth a crack, and she slipped in a bite of pancake. The sweet flavor exploded on my tongue, almost pleasant, but my appetite was still non-existent. I managed a few bites before shaking my head.
“That’s enough,” I whispered.
Cedar nodded, setting the plate aside. “Okay,” she said gently. “At least now we can try those meds.”
After swallowing the pills, I leaned back, pressing a hand over my forehead. Through the haze, my thoughts wandered home—to Mother, to her vulnerability, and to Uncle Will.
Could he have tracked me here? No, that seemed unlikely, but I wouldn’t put anything past his determination or cunning.
Cedar replaced the damp cloth on my head with a fresh one. “I’ll go make some tea,” she offered. “Something light that might settle your stomach.”
I nodded gratefully, letting my eyes slide shut. The headache throbbed on, but Cedar’s presence gave me some sense of comfort. As she left for the kitchenette, the world outside our suite whispered a lazy lullaby—soft ocean breezes and exotic birds calling from the palm trees.
All at once, a loud thud shattered the quiet. My eyes snapped open, heart pounding. The sound had come from outside, near our patio, maybe.
Cedar appeared in the doorway. She set the teapot on the counter, her face tense. “What was that?” she whispered.
Adrenaline spiked through me, momentarily slicing through my feverish daze. “I don’t know,” I said, trying—and failing—to push myself up. My head swam again, and I gripped the edge of the bed to steady myself. “But you’re not going out there alone.”
She crossed the room quickly, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You can barely sit up,” she said, her concern evident. “Let me check it out.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’ll call security.” With fumbling fingers, I snatched the resort’s landline from the nightstand and dialed reception. “We need security at our suite,” I told them. “Possibility of an intruder.” My voice was firm, despite the wobble I felt inside.
Cedar’s gaze flicked to the windows. “Flynn,” she began, but I held up a hand.
“We wait until they get here.” I forced a calmness I didn’t feel. “We don’t know what’s out there, and I’m not taking any chances.”
Her lips pressed into a tight line, but she nodded. She sat beside me on the bed, and together we listened for any more sounds—a rustle, a footstep, anything. Each second felt like an eternity until, finally, there was a knock at the door.
“Security,” called a voice from the hall.
Ignoring my body’s protests, I maneuvered myself to the edge of the bed, then stumbled to the door. I peered through the peephole to see two uniformed guards. My relief was palpable as I unlocked it.
“What seems to be the issue, Mr. Jefferson?” asked one guard, a tall man with broad shoulders.
“We heard something fall outside. It sounded like a crash,” I explained, stepping aside so Cedar could lean on the doorframe next to me.
They nodded and slipped out to investigate. A few minutes later, one guard returned holding a broken piece of pottery. “We found this near the pool,” he said, looking mildly sheepish. “Seems a flower vase was knocked over.”
Cedar frowned, glancing between me and the guard. “Any sign of how it fell?”
He shook his head. “That spot’s a blind zone on our cameras. We don’t usually install coverage there for guest privacy.”
The second guard chimed in. “We’ve never had any major incidents in over fifty years. Could’ve been just a squirrel or a stray cat knocking it over.”
My mind flashed to Uncle Will and his bag of tricks. Even if the guards were right and it was nothing, I couldn’t risk ignoring the possibility. Still, I placed a reassuring arm around Cedar’s waist. “Probably nothing,” I said with a forced smile. “Thank you both for checking.”
Cedar leaned into me, tension still evident in her shoulders. After the guards left to dispose of the broken vase, she studied my face. “You really think it’s nothing?” she asked quietly.
“We can’t be sure,” I admitted, lowering my voice so only she could hear. “I’ll ask the resort to increase patrols and keep an eye out, just in case.”
She nodded, then led me gently back to the bed. “Come on. You need to rest,” she said, her doctor tone merging with a softer, more personal concern. She tucked the covers around me again, ensuring the duvet offered some warmth against my fever chills.
I let out a shaky breath, wishing I could do more than lie here and nurse my weakness. “I’m sorry,” I said yet again, each apology feeling heavier than the last. “I hate being this useless.”
Cedar cupped my cheek, her expression tender. “You’re not useless. You’re recovering. That’s all.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she added, “I actually like taking care of you—just don’t tell your pride I said that.”
A smile flickered across my lips. She’d managed to warm me with just a few gentle words. The day’s tropical sun still streamed through the curtains, painting golden patterns on the tiled floor. I envied that light, free and unobstructed, while I lay here imprisoned by illness.
Yet, a small part of me felt grateful: this forced pause gave me precious moments alone with Cedar, a chance to see how deeply she cared for me.
“I’ll make that tea now,” she said. “And you’ll sip it slowly—no arguments.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I mumbled, letting my eyes close again. Despite the dull ache in my head, some of the tension in my chest eased.
For a brief instant, I allowed myself to believe that everything would turn out fine. But even as I drifted, I held onto the resolve to protect Cedar—and my mother—from whatever my uncle might be plotting.
The gentle hum of the fan overhead blended with the rhythmic sound of the ocean waves, and my mind drifted between wakefulness and sleep.
Outside, life in Zanzibar went on—Heather, Nelly, and Laura likely enjoying their day off, the guards returning to their posts, and who-knew-what else lurking in the resort’s many blind spots.
But for now, all that mattered was Cedar’s hand on my forehead and the sense that, despite my illness, I wasn’t fighting alone.