MY FAKE HUSBAND IS MY BOSS

Chapter Six

Confession

Ella slept for 14 hours straight.

When she woke up, the penthouse was quiet. Too quiet.

The fever was gone. Her head didn’t hurt. But her chest felt tight in a different way.

She padded to the kitchen in socks. Victor’s shirt.

She didn’t remember putting it on. It was huge on her. It smelled like him. Clean. Expensive. Cold.

Victor was at the counter. Coffee. Laptop. No suit. Just black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt.

He looked... younger. Human.

He glanced up when she walked in. His eyes did a quick scan. From her messy hair to her bare feet to his shirt on her body.

"You’re awake," he said.

"I am." Her voice was still rough. "Thank you. For yesterday."

He didn’t answer. Just slid a mug of coffee toward her. Black. The way she’d told Clara she liked it once.

"You cancelled your meeting," Ella said.

"Rescheduled."

"For me."

"For the contract." He took a sip of coffee. "Can’t have Mrs. Hale dying in month 1. Bad PR."

Right.

The contract.

Ella nodded and stared into her cup. The silence stretched.

"How do you feel?" he asked finally.

"Better." She paused. "The soup helped."

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

"Good."

Another silence.

This was new.

Victor Hale being quiet. Not cold.

Just... quiet.

"Why did you say that?" Ella blurted.

Victor looked up.

"Say what?"

"On the phone. 'My wife is sick.'"

His expression didn’t change.

"Because you are."

"Technically."

"Legally." He set his cup down. "Is there a difference?"

Ella didn’t know.

"I should go change," she said, standing too fast.

The room spun a little.

Victor was up instantly. His hand caught her elbow.

Steady.

Warm.

"I’ve got you."

It was the second time he’d touched her without cameras. Without an audience.

Ella looked up at him.

He was close. Too close.

She could see the faint scar above his eyebrow. The exhaustion in his eyes.

"Let me," he said quietly.

Before she could answer, he scooped her up.

Just like that.

Like she weighed nothing.

Ella gasped.

"Victor, put me down—"

"Stop squirming. You’re sick."

He carried her to the couch in the living room and set her down gently. Grabbed a blanket. Tucked it around her.

Then he sat on the other end.

Far enough to be proper. Close enough that their knees almost touched.

"You’re supposed to be resting," he said.

"I am."

"Liar."

But he said it softly.

They watched the city through the windows.

Neither spoke.

Finally, Ella broke it.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

She huffed a laugh.

"Why me? Really. You could’ve picked anyone."

Victor was quiet for a long time.

"Because you were desperate," he said. "Desperate people don’t lie. They don’t play games. They just... need."

Ella’s throat hurt.

"And now?"

"Now?"

He turned to look at her.

"Now I don’t know."

The air shifted.

Ella’s heart was pounding.

"What does that mean?"

"It means the contract was supposed to be simple." He ran a hand through his hair. "Money for time. Business for business."

"And?"

"And then you cried in my office and I couldn’t think."

"And then you wore that red dress and I couldn’t breathe."

"And then you got sick and I cancelled a $20 million meeting."

He said it all flat.

Like he was reading a report.

Ella stared at him.

"Victor..."

"Don’t." He held up a hand. "This is stupid. This is breaking rule 1 and rule 2 and probably rule 12."

"But?"

He looked at her.

Really looked at her.

"But I like taking care of you, Ella."

Her name.

Again.

Ella’s breath caught.

"You don’t have to—"

"I know." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "That’s the problem. I want to."

The confession hung between them.

Ella didn’t know what to say.

She was supposed to say it was just business. Supposed to remind him of the contract.

But the words wouldn’t come.

Because she wanted it too.

The moment was broken by his phone buzzing.

Victor glanced at it and cursed.

"Grandfather," he said. "He wants to see us. Tonight. Dinner."

Ella’s stomach dropped.

"Tonight? But I just—"

"You’ll be fine." Victor stood up. Back to CEO mode in 2 seconds. "Wear the blue dress. The one Clara sent."

He walked away.

But at the doorway he stopped.

"And Ella?"

"Yeah?"

"Don’t fall in love with me."

A pause.

"Because I’m already breaking the rules for you."

He left.

Ella sat on the couch, in his shirt, with his blanket, and a heart that was definitely not following the contract anymore.