Billionaire's Obsessed love

Chapter 10

I could be charming and sweet to her but that wouldn’t work with Amelia. I read her quite well. If I calmly ask her out on a date, she would say no. Amelia needs a man who can make her step out of her shell and be who she’s meant to be. And I’m determined for that man to be me.

I want to teach her to trust me.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and go to the wet bar where I pour myself a glass of cognac and poured her a glass of sherry despite her saying she doesn’t want anything. The alcohol will do her some good, let her relax and probably we could get around to talking.

Returning to our seat, I place the drinks on the table before us. She still doesn’t acknowledge my presence any at all and I am becoming annoyed with her.

“Are you planning to sulk for the two-and-a-half-hour ride to Detroit?” I ask her. I am trying to go for a friendlier tone but didn’t quite succeed in hiding my annoyance.

She makes a sound like a moan and I frown at her. “Amelia, are you okay?”

“I don’t feel so good,” she moans and wraps her hand around her tummy, trying to huddle into herself.

At first the thought crosses my mind that she is faking it but the minute I reach to take her arm and feel the heat coming from her skin, I know she’s sick. I touch her forehead and she’s burning up. Damn, she was fine before we left her mother, what the hell would have caused her to be sick right now?

 “Amelia, you’ve a high temperature,” I say to her.

“I know,” she mumbles.

“Why didn’t you say something?” I berate her. “Good Lord, woman. Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation? First, starving yourself and now suffering in silence from a fever.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

Anger rise inside of me. “Damn it, Amelia. Feel free to bother me anytime something is wrong.”

She unbuckles her seatbelt and tries to stand but she’s woozy and I catch her.

“I need the bathroom,” she says, holding her mouth.

“Shit.”

I swing her up in my arms and stride towards the lavatory. The bathroom was designed to be luxurious, with a shower. I hold her to me as she vomits into the toilet and my heart wrenches painfully to see her like this and not knowing the cause. Her dry-heaves a few times, her slender body shuddering in my arms.

“Got it all out?” I ask her gently wiping the sweat from her face.

“This is so embarrassing,” she murmurs and tries to hide her face from me. “Must be something I ate last night at that restaurant.”

 “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

I help her to brush her teeth with the disposable toothbrushes I keep stored before lifting her in my arms once more. She is so hot that it scares me. I can feel her body burning up against mine. She wraps her arms around my neck to keep herself steady as I walk her to the back of the jet where the bedroom is. The area consists of a bed, a La-Z-Boy recliner and massage chair, rug and a television. I place her on the bed.

“I’ve got to get you out of this dress for you to cool off, Amelia.”

She shakes her head fitfully from one side to one. “No, you can’t. I’ll be fine.”

I hold her face gently between my hands and direct her eyes to my worried ones. “You need to get cool, Amelia,” I insist. “Don’t worry about me taking advantage of you. I’ve all the time in the world to do that when you’re better.”

She doesn’t protest and I drop a kiss on her feverish forest before sitting her up in the bed so I could pull her dress over her head. She sinks back down onto the bed and huddles on her side, embarrassed even in her feeling so ill. As much as she is dressed only in her bra and panties and is a beauty to behold, I’m more concerned about getting her fever down.

I leave her shortly to damp some towels in the bathroom next to the bedroom and return to her side. I press the cool material to her forehead and she hisses.

“That feels so good,” she murmurs.

“It’ll get your fever down,” I tell her softly. “I’ve got painkillers you can also take. When was the last time you ate?”

“Last night,” she answers. “I wasn’t feeling too good when I woke up this morning.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

She doesn’t respond. I continue wiping her face, her neck, down her body until I am satisfied she is cool enough.

“I’m going to get you something to eat,” I inform her so she doesn’t think I’ve abandoned her.

“Where? Wendy’s?” she jokes weakly. “Not even you can pull that off.”

“Hmm. We’ll see.”

I pull the sheet up her waist, my eyes straying to her small perky breasts which makes my mouth dry. I tear my gaze away and find her looking at me, her cheeks flushed with more than just fever. I drop a kiss on her brow and make my way to the galley. Before I could even address how much we want each other, first and foremost is getting her well.

The galley is always stocked with food. It is basically a smaller version of a kitchen with a stove top, microwave, kettle, sink and dishwasher. I find a can of chicken soup. Perfect. Usually I have a private air hostess who prepares meals when I’m traveling long distance. Otherwise I make myself easy meals or wait until I land to get something to eat.

I ladle the soup into a small bowl knowing it is imperative for her to eat but being sick she probably wouldn’t eat much. Placing the bowl onto a tray, along with a spoon, I return to find her body still cooler than when I’d initially noticed her temperature.

“Amelia, let’s get some food into your stomach,” I encourage her to sit up in the bed and perch beside her on the edge.

 “I’m not hungry,” she protests.

“You are. You just don’t know it yet because you’re feeling sick. Come on. You need food to keep your energy up. That’s a good girl,” I encourage her when she allows me to spoon soup into her mouth. “Come on, eat some more.”

I keep encouraging her until she’s eaten most of the content then I listen when she says she doesn’t want anymore. I give her the painkillers to take and wipe her down again with tap water. When I finish cleaning up in the galley and return to her, she is barely warm and sleeping.

I stand there for a very long time watching her sleep and a feeling so intense came over me that I’m poleaxed by the force of it. I know in that minute there was no way I would let her walk away from me. Not after today. Not after my hands have bathed her body, chasing away her fever. Not after holding her while she threw up.

I sit in the La-Z-Boy beside the bed, determined to keep vigil and ensure her fever doesn’t get more intense again before we land. I feel a fierce protective instinct over her.

Daniel belongs to me.

“Prepare for landing.”

My eyes fly open at the unfamiliar nasal voice over the speakers. Confused, I sit up in the bed, the sudden movement making me feel a little lightheaded. I try to figure out where I am but can’t remember until I spot Daniel, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He must have woken too by the voice of the pilot.

Everything comes to me then, of Daniel holding me while I throw up, him stripping off my dress and giving me a sponge bath, feeding me. I clutch the covers to my chin, conscious that I am still semi-nude. I might have not minded, caught up in the throes of illness but now I am not feeling so ill anymore, I am self-conscious.

“We’re about to land,” Daniel murmur, running a hand over his face and through his hair to chase the sleep away. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better,” I reply, looking everywhere but at him. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Anytime. Come on, rules indicate we are buckled down for landing. We’ve got a few minutes so you’ll have time to get dressed.

Before I can say anything, he plucks my dress from the bed beside me and drop it over my head. I feel like a child, holding the sheet alternatively with one hand while poking the other through the arm holes in the dress. He pulls the material down and urge me to stand which I do so the dress pool down my waist but not before he catches a glimpse of my black bikini briefs.

“You can get your shoes on when we’re seated” he tells me and with a hand at my back guides me back to the front of the jet where we take the seats we had occupied earlier. We buckle up and just in time too as the pilot made the final descent. The landing is smooth and soon we stop.

 “Here, let me do this for you.”

I frown at him as he lifts first one foot, placing it in his lap and putting on that shoe before repeating the action with my other foot. Is this some kind of ploy of his? What is he aiming for in being so nice to me all of a sudden? This is the side he had shown to my mother and her friends but not a side he once show to me until I was ill.

At least he wasn’t completely heartless.

“Come on, there’s a limo waiting for us,” he told me and prods me to my feet.

“My suitcases,” I protest.

“Will be taken care of,” he answers and guides me to the exit where the pilot is standing and smiling. The man tips his hat and wishes us a good day and I stammer a thank you before lengthening my strides to try and keep up with Daniel.

I realize we aren’t using the public section of the airport. A black limousine is indeed waiting for us and I hesitate a bit. He notices and takes hold of my hand so I have to keep walking or get dragged. He opens the door for me and I get in, once more finding myself in the backseat of a car with Daniel.

“Where are we going?” I ask as the limousine drives from the airport.

 “The office.” I stare at him in astonishment.