TAMING MR BLACKWELL

AN UNPLEASANT FEELING

CHAPTER 10

(IVY'S POV)

But by the time I finished my drink, a faint warmth spread across my skin. Not unpleasant, but noticeable. I brushed my fingers over my forehead.

Was it the weather? The café wasn’t hot. If anything, it was cooler than outside. But the longer I sat there, the heavier my limbs felt. A slight fatigue settled in, making me sluggish.

Nothing alarming. Nothing to worry about.

Just... off.

I shook it off, leaving the café and stepping back onto the streets. The fresh air helped, cooling the warmth on my skin.

It was probably exhaustion. Too many late nights, too much stress. I wasn’t sick. I couldn’t be. I just needed rest. That’s all.

.............

The flight back to Chicago felt shorter than I expected, but maybe that was because I slept through most of it.

The moment I settled into my seat, exhaustion hit me like a brick wall. My limbs felt heavy, my body sluggish. I barely had the energy to pull the blanket over me before sleep dragged me under.

I was vaguely aware of the plane taking off, of the soft hum of conversation around me, of Adrian shifting in his seat across from mine. But I was too drained to care.

When I finally opened my eyes, the plane was already descending. My throat felt scratchy, my head dull with a lingering ache.

I forced myself to sit up, blinking against the dim cabin lights. My body felt off, like I had been drained of energy. My sweater suddenly felt too warm, clinging to my skin uncomfortably.

Adrian barely spared me a glance as he shut his laptop. "We're landing soon," he said, his tone unreadable.

I nodded, swallowing against the discomfort creeping up my throat. By the time we landed, every step felt heavier than the last. My heels clicked against the airport floor as I walked beside Adrian, but even that small sound felt too loud.

The Chicago air was crisp as we stepped outside, but instead of relief, my body shivered.

I must be exhausted. That’s all.

Adrian’s black car was already waiting at the curb. As soon as we settled into the back seat, I leaned my head against the window, willing away the strange warmth creeping over my skin.

Adrian didn’t say much, but I felt his gaze flicker toward me once or twice.

"You'll handle the reports from the trip first thing tomorrow," he said after a long silence, his voice as firm as ever.

I barely managed a nod. "Of course."

As we neared Blackwell Enterprises, Adrian straightened in his seat. "Drop me at the office," he told the driver.

The car slowed in front of the towering glass building. Without another word, Adrian stepped out, shutting the door behind him.

Before I could reach for the handle to follow, his voice cut through the air. "Take her home." I blinked.

Adrian had already turned, striding toward the entrance, his long coat billowing slightly behind him. He didn't wait for my response.

The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "Where to, Miss Carter?"

I hesitated for a second before sighing. "Home, please."

The car pulled away from the curb, and I sank further into my seat, my body growing heavier by the second.

By the time we reached my apartment, I felt like I was burning from the inside out. I barely managed to thank the driver before stepping out.

The moment I shut my door behind me, I kicked off my heels and leaned against the wall. My body felt like it had been hit by a truck.

Dragging myself to the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. My skin was flushed, my eyes a little glassy.

Every muscle in my body ached as I dragged myself toward the bed, too tired to even change out of my clothes. My sweater clung to my skin, the warmth unbearable, but when I tried to pull it off, a violent shiver ran through me.

Hot. Then cold. Then hot again. I pressed my fingers to my forehead. My skin was burning.

Great. Just great.

I had felt off since the flight, but now, the exhaustion was bone-deep. My throat ached, my head throbbed, and my legs felt too weak to hold me up for much longer.

I should eat something. Drink water. Take medicine. But the thought of standing, of moving, made my stomach turn.

Instead, I collapsed onto the couch, curling into myself. My body was on fire, but my hands were ice-cold. The room felt too bright, the sounds outside too loud.

I just needed to sleep. Maybe after a few hours, I’d feel better. My phone buzzed somewhere in my bag, but I ignored it.

I didn’t have the energy to care. Tomorrow. I’ll deal with everything tomorrow.

With that last thought, I let sleep pull me under.

..............

(ADRIAN'S POV)

I noticed it the moment she boarded the plane.

Ivy barely made it to her seat before exhaustion overtook her. The moment she buckled in, her head rested against the window, and she was out. No complaints, no restless shifting.... just deep, undisturbed sleep.

She didn’t wake up when the flight attendant offered drinks. She didn’t wake up when turbulence shook the cabin.

She didn’t wake up at all.

I watched her for longer than I should have.

She was always alert, always working, always moving. But now? She looked… drained. Her face was pale, her breaths slow and uneven. The trip had worn her out more than I expected.

I should have told her to take the next day off. I didn’t.

The moment we got into the car, Ivy leaned her head against the window. The city lights flickered across her face, highlighting the exhaustion in her eyes.

I tapped my fingers against my knee. “You'll handle the reports from the trip first thing tomorrow.” There was a beat of silence.

Then, so softly I almost missed it.... "Of course." Her voice was weak, barely there.

I turned to look at her, but her eyes were already closed. Something about it didn’t sit right with me.

Ivy was stubborn, always snapping back, always making some sarcastic remark under her breath. But now? Nothing.

Just a quiet, drained response.

The car pulled up in front of the company, I could see her trying to alight with me.

What was she trying to do? Is she trying to kill herself?

"Take her home" I ordered the driver.

She needed rest, and I'm aware of it. And the look on her face, makes me uncomfortable for a reason.

That feeling in my chest?

But, I ignored it.

........

The Next Morning

8:30 AM.

Ivy wasn’t here.

I checked my watch again. She was never late. Not once since she started working for me.

I dialed her number. No answer. I tried again. And again.

Still nothing.

A strange unease settled in my chest. I told myself she probably just overslept. But that didn’t sit right with me.

Without thinking twice, I grabbed my coat and walked out.

Where to? I had no idea. I just knew I couldn't stay in the office any longer.

When I got to Ivy’s Apartment, I still couldn't believe I came all the way here. But I told myself I was just making sure my employee is safe.

I knocked. Hard.

“Ivy.” My voice was sharp, commanding. “Open the door.” Nothing.

I knocked again. Louder. Still nothing.

Something in me snapped.

With one solid kick, the door swung open. And then I saw her. Lying on her bed. Motionless. Pale.

Her breathing was shallow, her forehead damp with sweat. A fever. A bad one.

I was at her side in an instant, pressing my hand to her forehead. Too hot.

“Ivy.” I shook her lightly. Nothing. Damn it.

Without hesitation, I slipped my arms under her and lifted her. She barely stirred as I carried her out of the apartment, her head laid lazily against my chest.

She was burning up. I didn’t have time to think. I placed her gently in the back seat of the car before sliding in beside her. As the driver pulled onto the road, I glanced down at Ivy’s pale face.

I wanted to tell her to take care of herself. Instead, I said, “You’re handling the reports first thing tomorrow.”

Because, that was easier than admitting I was worried.

When we got to the hospital, I sat beside Ivy as she laid peacefully on the bed.

I hated hospitals.

The sterile white walls, the sharp scent of antiseptic, the quiet hum of machines..... it all felt too familiar. Too suffocating. But right now, none of that mattered.

Ivy lay on the hospital bed, her breathing steady, her face pale against the pillow. The IV drip attached to her wrist delivered fluids into her system, a slow and steady rhythm that filled the otherwise silent room.

She looked… fragile.

I had never seen her this still before. Ivy was always moving, always talking, always alive. But now, as she slept, she looked like she might disappear if I looked away for too long.

I leaned back in the chair beside her bed, my eyes never leaving her face.

Her lashes were long, casting delicate shadows over her cheeks. Her lips..... slightly parted... held a hint of color, though not as much as usual. The deep exhaustion that clung to her made me wonder how long she had been pushing herself before her body finally gave in.

Too long.

The thought irritated me. She should have said something. Should have rested. Should have taken care of herself.

I exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down my face. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I didn’t do hospital visits. I had walked out of these places before when I had every reason to stay.

Yet, I hadn’t left.

I told myself I’d only stay until she woke up. That I needed her back at work, and this was simply a necessary wait.

But hours passed.

Nurses came and went. Machines beeped in a steady rhythm. The world outside continued moving.

And still, I stayed.

My fingers tapped idly against the armrest of the chair, my gaze locked onto the slow rise and fall of her chest.

Why did it bother me so much?

Why couldn’t I just leave?

I wasn’t used to caring.

But as I watched Ivy sleep, something unfamiliar settled in my chest.... a quiet, unwelcome awareness that I didn’t like.

I hated hospitals.

But for some reason, I couldn’t walk away from this one.

As her eyes fluttered open, I could feel my heartbeat slow a little. I shifted my gaze away from her immediately.