THE DEVIL CARES
561 Words
Grayson Carter didn't answer me. He looked at me deeply, his intense gray eyes unreadable, and then quietly let go of my wrist.
Without another word, he turned around and walked away, heading down the hallway.
I stood frozen for a moment, stunned by the silence. My anger surged again. I turned to shout something sarcastic after him, but then stopped cold.
Grayson was leaning against the wall, his head tilted back, one hand clutching his stomach, his face pale and drawn.
My heart sank. Something was wrong.
"Hey! Are you okay? Do you have a stomach ache?" I rushed toward him.
He opened his eyes slowly, pain flickering across his face. But he said nothing.
My voice trembled as I reached for my phone. "If you don’t say something, I’ll call 911!"
"Stomach... ache," he muttered finally, his voice strained.
Sweat beaded across his forehead.
I panicked. "Where’s your medicine box?"
He hesitated before whispering, "Kitchen... cupboard."
"Okay, wait here. I’ll get it."
I ran into his sleek, minimalistic kitchen. For a billionaire, he didn't own much food, but his first aid kit was exactly where he said it would be.
I returned with the medicine and handed him the antacids. "You're seriously grown and can't handle this yourself? How have you survived this long?"
He gave a faint smirk before taking the pills and swallowing them dry.
My heart hadn’t calmed. I sat near him on the couch, just watching.
"Haven’t eaten?" I asked softly.
"Busy," he replied.
One word, but it told me everything. Stress, overwork, and now this.
I shouldn't have stayed. But I couldn't leave him like that.
Grayson Carter was a devil, but even the devil got hungry.
Without another word, I stepped into the kitchen and whipped up something quick — tomato egg noodles. It wasn't gourmet, but it was warm.
"Here. Eat this," I said, placing the bowl in front of him.
He looked at it. His eyebrows furrowed.
"What? You don’t like it?"
He didn’t respond. Just stared.
"Fine. I’ll throw it away if it’s beneath you."
"You dare?" he said suddenly, grabbing my wrist again. "Today is the day—"
He stopped himself.
His grip was warm, unexpectedly gentle.
I was stunned. I pulled away quickly. "Eat. I’m leaving."
He looked up at me. "Wait. I’ll have Lewis drive you."
I hesitated. Then gave a small nod. "Okay. Sorry for the trouble."
He didn’t respond, just picked up the chopsticks.
I stood there silently, watching him eat. The way he moved, calm and methodical, almost made me forget everything.
Somehow, it made me hungry.
"I heard you got fired," he said casually after finishing his meal.
I blinked. "Yes."
He wiped his lips with a napkin. "Carter International is hiring. You could apply."
I hesitated, then shook my head. "Thank you, Mr. Carter, but I can’t work there right now."
His gaze turned sharp. "You’re rejecting me?"
I swallowed. The air felt thick again. Before I could reply, a voice broke the silence.
"Mr. Carter. Miss Eema."
Logan Lewis, his assistant, stood at the door.
I immediately stood. "Thank you. I’ll go now. Goodbye, Mr. Carter."
I hurried past Logan, not daring to look back.
Behind me, I heard:
"Take her home."
Logan nodded, leading me to the car.
I didn’t look back.
But a part of me wanted to.
- Writer
