Chapter 5
1310 Words
-ARIA-
Logan's breathing was labored. He was shivering in a fetal position, curled to the side. He was in a shirt and slacks, without a tie.
I lowered myself onto my haunches, leaning over him. My pencil skirt brushed above my knees, and the rough carpet scratched against my skin.
"Logan, can you hear me?" I whispered, resting my hand against the stubble on his cheek. "It's me, Aria."
"Aria?" His groan was deeper than yesterday, his eyes opening with effort. "What are you doing in my house?"
My hand lingered on his face. I should have pulled it away, but I didn’t.
"We’re at your office. You fell asleep on your sofa."
He blinked, licking his dry lips. "What time is it?"
I withdrew my hand before he noticed.
Nice, Aria. Groping the enemy while he’s half‑dead. Perfect résumé material.
"A quarter past seven. I came early to help you with your meeting."
He lurched upright, swaying, heat radiating off him. I steadied him until his back rested against the sofa. He closed his eyes again and grunted.
"You’re burning up, Logan. How are you feeling?"
"Like hell chewed me up and spat me out." His voice rasped, every word dragging like sandpaper.
"Wait here. I’ll be back." I rose and left his office, heading for the kitchen. A small cabinet hung on the wall, locked as usual. I used the key Marie kept in her drawer to open it.
I found fever medicine and brewed tea, adding a splash of honey before returning.
He hadn’t moved. Eyes closed, body curled the same way I’d left him.
"Hey, I’m back." I set the mug on the coffee table and handed him the medicine. "Take one of these."
He eyed the pills, one brow arched. "Are you trying to kill me?"
"Sure, you caught me," I said, settling beside him on the sofa. "I infected you with the flu just to finish you off with cyanide pills."
"Cyanide?" His mouth curved faintly.
"Straight out of Agatha Christie. Now swallow the cyanide and drink the tea, Logan. You have to go to a clinic."
He shook his head, dizzy. "No clinic. No hospitals. I have a meeting at eight."
"Logan..." I breathed. "You keep pushing yourself like this and think you don’t have to pay a price. You’re a workaholic who’s gone too far, and now you’re sick. You can’t even talk straight, let alone charm a new client. Let me ask Jacob to go in your place. He’s a turd, but he’s competent."
Logan groaned low again, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead. "Jacob can’t handle a damaged box. He’d never win a client."
"Sure, he’s not as charming as you, but he’s smart. Let the man run without a leash," I insisted.
"Do you think I’m charming?" His fevered eyes cracked open, locking on mine.
I laughed softly, shaking my head. "Charming isn’t the word I’d use right now. Fever-yellow is not your color."
His green eyes stayed on me, searching for something. I tilted my head down so my blond hair covered my heated cheeks.
He reached for the tea mug, hands trembling, and I steadied him.
"Fine," he said after a pause. "Call Jacob. Walk him through the deck."
"Thank you," I murmured, rising from the sofa.
"The cyanide’s kicking in. I’m gonna take a nap. Close the door before you leave."
He tried to lie down, wobbling, and I rushed back to help him again. He tucked a cushion under his head, arms crossed, eyes shut.
A heartbeat later, he was asleep. Strange, seeing a wolf like Logan lying down. So fragile. So accessible.
I should've used the moment to go through his things and find leads for my investigation. But it felt wrong.
I'm not as bad as he is.
I bolted from his office and called Jacob. There was no need to explain much, as he was already prepared for the meeting. The guy wasn't a moron.
Then I stopped by Marie's desk. She was buried behind it, eyes darting between two monitors.
"Hi, Marie. How was your son's party?"
Her face lit up. "Hi, Aria. It was great. He loved it. I spent the whole evening scrubbing smashed cake out of the carpet, though." She opened a box of candy. "Want some?"
"Thanks." I took one, saved it for later. "Marie, does Logan have a personal doctor?"
"Not that I know of. Why?"
"He's sick." I toyed with the cellophane wrapper, thinking of Logan's pale face. "I think it's just the flu. I gave him something from the first aid cabinet, but he should see a doctor."
"Logan is sick?" Her eyes went wide. "I thought he had a pact with the devil or something because he's never ill."
I leaned closer, lowering my voice. I wasn't sure how much Logan wanted his employees to know. "Apparently, the pact's broken. He looks awful. He's asleep in his office right now."
"Mon Dieu!" Marie gasped. Her French roots always surfaced when she was nervous. Her fingers drummed nervously against the desk.
"So, can you help me bring someone here to see him? The unyielding man refuses to go to a hospital."
She smoothed her red strands nervously. "Sure. Let me run through his contacts."
I left Marie’s desk and went to my office. I tried to focus on work, but my mind kept circling back to Logan.
It wasn’t because I cared. I just didn’t want him dying before I had the chance to crush him and his business.
I eased the door open. Logan was exactly where I’d left him, same position, still asleep. I was about to close it when Marie appeared behind me.
I turned, expecting a middle‑aged bald man with a heavy black bag. Instead, a tall, elegant woman stood there, her short brown bob cut sharp and stylish. She wore fitted leather pants and a silky blouse with a deep neckline. Sexy, but not cheap. She was beautiful.
"Hi. I'm Aria Davis, Logan's new assistant." I held out my hand.
She took it for a millisecond before dropping it. Perhaps afraid of germs. "Chloe Anderson." Her deep brown eyes assessed me head to toe before she plastered on a pearly smile. "Can you tell me what's happening with Logan?"
The door to his office was closed, but I could still see him through the glass walls. "I came earlier to help with a presentation and was surprised to find him sleeping. He'd never done that."
I turned to face her. She tilted her head slightly, urging me to continue.
"He was pale, shivering. His skin was burning. I woke him, we talked, and I got him some mint tea and Ibuprofen."
"How did you know he had a fever? Just with your hand?" One perfectly styled brow curved, the light catching the golden hoop on her ear.
"Yes." I felt silly admitting it. "I think he overdid it. He's been working overtime every day. Yesterday we worked past eleven, and he stayed after that. His voice was scratchy."
She hummed. "Do you usually stay late… alone?"
I didn't say we were alone. And why was that relevant?
"Most of the time. But never that late." I confessed, uneasy. Why was she questioning me like it was an interrogation?
"Well, let me see my patient then." Another pearly smile. She looked like a toothpaste commercial.
Chloe slipped past me and opened the door. Approaching Logan's body with care, she sat on the sofa beside him. She ran a perfectly manicured hand through his hair, across his face, gently.
What kind of doctor does that?
"Where did you find this doctor?" I whispered to Marie, watching Chloe murmur something into Logan's ear, her face too close to his.
"She's his ex‑girlfriend."
- Writer
