My Handsome Assistant is a Hidden Billionaire

CHAPTER-05

Anna.

It’s been a while since I’ve been this ill. I believed, like an i***t, that my immune system was fine. I should have rolled my eyes at the thought; I don’t have a damn wall blocking germs from seeping into my pores.

Trust an infection to take me down instead of stress or an actual human being. I hate being in bed—it's been two days, and I haven't been able to move without Eric's help, who has been incredibly helpful.

My bones feel sore, and my head spins whenever I try to stand. Eric has been helping me get to the bathroom when I need to use it and even brings my food up to me, so I don’t have to leave the bed. He makes sure I take my medications on time.

Having Eric around for the past couple of days has been enjoyable, especially considering the circumstances. I'm usually alone once Polly leaves, and she never has dinner with me. She sometimes cooks, but then she leaves right after. Having Eric to share a meal with and engage in small talk has been a highlight of my evenings.

As I sink into the tub, the warm water envelops my body, instantly melting away the tension that has built up. Leaning my head against the back of the tub, I close my eyes while the calming scent of lavender fills the air around me.

The water is just the right temperature; he even added bubbles for me. As I sink deeper, the water covers me just above my chest.

Whoever thought about baths deserves a kiss. Showers do the job, but for sore muscles, they can only do so much.

A soft knock on the bathroom door startles me. “Anna, are you okay? You've been in there a while.”

I must have fallen asleep because the water has turned cold, and the bubbles have disappeared. Grabbing the side of the tub, I try to pull myself up, but I don’t have the strength. “Um, Eric,” I say, slumping back against the tub.

He opens the door but doesn’t look inside as he asks, “You okay?”

My cheeks heat as I admit, “I’m stuck.”

He chuckles, the sound warm enough to make butterflies erupt in my stomach. Slowly, he opens the door. “I’m sorry,” I say as his eyes meet mine.

“Don’t be. I’m here to help.” Placing his big hands in the water, he lifts me by the waist as if I weigh nothing at all and sets me on my feet. My head begins to spin, and I stumble slightly, making his hands land on my hips. My wet body presses against his, and my breath quickens as I look up at him.

His eyes are dark as he looks back at me. “You alright?” His tone is husky.

His hard body against mine makes heat pool at my core, and as his fingertips dig into my hips, I bite my lip in response. Our eyes remain locked, but I snap out of it when I feel something hard press against my belly. “He’s your assistant, you idiot.” I grab the towel from the counter and twist out of his hold, wrapping it around me while trying not to look down at the bulge in his pants.

It’s a normal reaction; I’m a naked woman, and he’s a man. Who am I to judge when I had the same reaction just from his touch? However, mine is invisible.

After adjusting himself, he helps me to my room, the tension thick in the air between us. As I sit at my dresser, Eric takes a seat at the foot of my bed while I brush my damp hair in the mirror.

Leaning forward, he says, "The fish is in the oven."

I smile at him through the mirror. "I won’t be long; I just have to dry my hair."

Standing up, he grabs the hairdryer and takes the brush from my hand. Surprised, I look up at him. "I can do it,"

"I really need a distraction right now." He glances down, and my eyes follow the movement to see that his c**k is still pressing against his jeans.

Heat spreads up my chest until it reaches my cheeks. "Okay," I reply, a little breathlessly.

Standing behind me with a little space between us, he begins to brush my hair slowly. As time goes on, he switches on the dryer, his brows pinched together in concentration.

With my eyes closed, I raise my voice so he can hear me over the roaring sound of the dryer. “I know you're probably really busy, and I’m sorry if I’m keeping you.”

He doesn’t reply right away, which makes me open my eyes just in time to catch his warm brown gaze locked onto mine through the mirror. As he runs his fingers along my scalp, I let out a heavy sigh, leaning into his touch slightly.

“I don’t have anything to do for the rest of this week,” he says.

“Usually, when I’m ill, I can take care of myself. I’m a very independent woman,” I reply.

He grabs my hair and places it over my right shoulder before his hands softly rub my shoulders. His big, warm hands work through the knots, making me groan. “That feels so good,” I admit.

“You might be talking about the flu or a stomach bug, but this is more than that. Your body is working harder to fight the infection; it will make you weak for a couple of days, but I’m going to be here until I know you're one hundred percent better,” he reassures me.

As his hands begin to massage the back of my neck, I feel a warmth pooling between my legs. My eyes widen slightly, and I stand up, making his hands drop. “I’ll go check on the fish,” I say quickly.

When I turn, I see a slight smirk on his lips. “It’s alright; I’ve got it. You get dressed, and I’ll meet you at the table,” he replies.

I watch his broad frame step through the doorway before it shuts. Taking a deep breath, I sit on the bed in the spot he just occupied and place a hand on my chest, trying to steady my racing heart. “Get your act together, Anna. You can’t be having those kinds of reactions to his touch. It’s like you’ve never been touched by a guy before,” I chide myself.

With a huff, I stand again, grab a pair of pyjamas from the closet, and slowly get dressed, my head spinning as I put my legs into the pants, which only frustrates me.

A little while later, we sit across from each other at the table, with rice and seasoned fish on our plates. “What was your childhood like?” he asks.

I blink at him as he stares, swallowing hard before saying, “My childhood…”

I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that question before, not even by Mary, and I’m glad because my childhood was embarrassing. All I cared about was studying.

He smiles back at me, revealing charming dimples in his cheeks. “If you tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”

Inwardly, I groan and lean my head back. How have I only just noticed his dimples?

Placing my fork down, I lean back in my chair. “Unlike other little girls, I didn’t play with dolls. I focused on my studies and read books. I guess you could say I was a bit of a nerd. I’m sure my classmates thought I was a little odd.”

“It's odd because your priority was getting good grades. I find that attractive, and I know for a fact they were jealous of you.”

I laugh and reply, “Yeah, because a girl who only cared about her studies is definitely someone to be jealous of.” I pause and ask, “What about you? What was your childhood like?”

His eyes flash with pain. “I was an orphan at the age of 4, well, until they found my father anyway. I’m not originally from the United States; I was born in Ireland. I guess my father was over here for business and thought it was a good idea to sleep with someone without considering the consequences.”

My eyes widen in surprise. “Wait, you were born in Ireland, but you don’t have the accent?”

He chuckles. “I was 4, Anna.”

“Right, so was it a one-night stand?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. I never asked. It wasn’t important to me and still isn’t. Besides, we don’t get along well; maybe it’s because I’m not the son he wanted.”

My heart squeezes at his words. Grabbing his hand, I say, “He’s lucky to have you as his son. It’s his loss. Besides, you don’t need someone who is so quick to cut you off. I bet you didn’t do a damn thing wrong.”

He tilts his head at me. “What makes you think that?”

“If he can leave a woman who is pregnant with his own child, that means—excuse my French—he’s a jerk.”

He laughs, tilting his head back as he says, “You’re not wrong.”

A comfortable silence stretches as we finish the rest of our food. As I take my last bite of fish, I look down at my plate and blurt, “I tried to Google you.”

His tone makes me look up guiltily. “Oh really?”

I nod, biting my lip. Setting his fork down, he leans back in his chair. “Anything interesting?”

“Nope. But there is an Eric in Spain who got arrested for streaking on Barceloneta Beach.”

He raises an amused brow. “How do you know that wasn’t me? I could have been on holiday over there.”

Folding my arms across my chest, I say, “Because the picture looked nothing like you.”

“Okay, it wasn’t me, but it sounds like the dude had some fun. Did you find out if he got charged?”

“I wish! That would have been entertaining, especially if there were pictures.”

A laugh, so sexy, reaches my ears and I find myself watching him until it suddenly stops and his face turns red. The mood shifts, and panic sets in when he starts to wheeze.

My eyes widen “eric” Standing up, my chair nearly toppling over but I don’t care as I make my way towards him

While my heart pounds outside of my chest, he looks at me calmly.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, I try to follow his lead as I place my hand on his hard chest. “Are you having an allergic reaction?” I ask.

He stares at me, probably unable to speak because his tongue is swelling. “It’s going to be okay,” I say as I turn to grab my cell phone from the table to call for an ambulance, but he stops me by grabbing my wrist. He manages to rasp, “EpiPen.”

I quickly pat down his pockets and find a long, pen-like device. I yank it out; the white tube with an orange tip and blue lid looks intimidating.

I’ve never used one of these before—what do I do with it? My hands begin to shake. I think back to something my teacher used to say in school when a girl had a peanut allergy in my class: “Blue to the sky, orange to the thigh.”

When my eyes finally leave the pen and meet his, I see him slumping against the chair, his breathing worsening. “Fuck.” Taking the blue cap off, I line up the pen and get ready to push it into his thigh, but he grabs my hand and moves my thumb from the top. With his eyes closing, I don’t wait any longer. With a hard thrust, I hear a click.

How long do I keep it pressed down for? Should I just count? Giving it ten seconds, I finally release it. How did I not know he had an allergy to food? Shouldn't that have been something he mentioned when he started working for me?

Dropping the pen onto the table, I slink to the floor by his feet. “What the hell?” I look up at him, keeping my eyes trained on his face as my heart pounds like I've just run a marathon.

We sit in silence for what feels like an eternity, the only sound breaking it is the clock ticking on the wall behind us.

More time passes until his breathing evens out. “Sorry,” he says.

“What the hell just happened, Eric?”

“I have allergic reactions to some foods. I guess fish is one of them.”

“Shouldn’t this have been something you told me in case this happened at work?”

He shrugs. “I guess.”

“You f*****g guess?”

Grabbing my hand, which I didn’t realize was resting on his knee, he says, “I’m okay, Anna. Sometimes this happens. I’m usually careful when it comes to food.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “How can you not know you're allergic?”

“I haven’t had an appetite for fish before now.”

My eyes widen as I stare at him. “You could have died just now! Do you understand that?”

I don’t know how he can remain so calm, but he laughs as if I didn’t just save his life. “I didn’t nearly die,” he says, then clears his throat and takes a drink of water. “I’m fine—just a little reaction.”

Standing up from my sitting position on the floor, I say, “You’re staying in my bed tonight so I can keep an eye on you. I need a list of all the foods you’re not allowed to eat. Do you understand me?”

He looks at me for a moment before realizing that no matter what he says, I won’t give in. “Okay,” he replies.

I grab his glass of water, take his hand, and lead him to my room, where I stay wide awake for the rest of the night.