Of course, she does. I know damn well she doesn’t want to be stuck with me especially when her whole damn motto in life is to avoid me at all costs. But she needs to deal with it. Because whether she likes it or not, I’m not letting this go.
I school my expression, keeping my voice casual. “Why the sudden rush?”
“I’m here to deliver an order for the conference tomorrow. It has to be at the event hall by noon, and I can’t mess it up. I need to call the hotel and arrange for a pickup. The order is in my car. It’ll spoil if I don’t handle it now,” she rambles.
“Give me the details. I’ll take care of it.”
She shakes her head, that familiar stubborn streak flashing in her eyes. “No, I can do it. Just give me the—”
“Sana.” I lower myself onto the bed beside her. “Your leg is sprained. You can’t run around handling deliveries right now. Please, let me do this for you.”
Her lips part, and for a second, I think she’s going to refuse just for the sake of it. I can see the fight in her eyes—that internal tug-of-war she always puts herself through when it comes to me.
“You always fight me,” I say, calling out exactly what’s on her mind.
She stiffens, her lips parting, but no words come. Because she knows I’m right.
I exhale. “Please… don’t fight me on this.”For once. Just once. Let me in.The last bit, I want to say aloud, but I don’t.
She eyes me warily. I can see her debating with herself. But she finally lets out a quiet sigh. “Fine.”
Victory surges through me, but I don’t show it. Instead, I just give her a nod. “Good. Now, tell me everything I need to know.”
“My car is parked about ten minutes away, and I’m supposed to hand over the order to the hotel, but now…” She gestures vaguely at her sprained ankle, frustration flashing in her eyes.
“What’s the name of the hotel?”
“The Grand Crest,” she says, then looks at me like she expects me to mess up. “You sure you’ve got this?”
I smirk. “Sana, I’ve handled multi-million-dollar projects single-handedly. I think I can manage to get your order delivered.”
She exhales sharply. “Fine. Just… don’t screw it up.”
“Have a little faith,” I say with a wink.
She mutters something under her breath, probably an insult, but I don’t say a word as I gently guide her back onto the bed. She tenses at first, but I don’t give her room to protest. My hands are firm yet careful as I adjust the pillows behind her, making sure she’s comfortable.
“Relax,” I murmur, more to myself than to her.
She exhales, her body sinking into the mattress, finally letting down her guard—if only just a little. But the moment my gaze drops to her ankle, my jaw tightens. Damn it. The swelling is worse than I thought. A pained expression crosses my face.
She must see it on my face because her voice comes out softer, almost hesitant. “I’m fine.”
My eyes snap to hers. Even in pain, she’s trying to reassure me. Trying to downplay it, to act like it’s nothing—like she isn’t the one sitting here, injured.
I swallow hard and nod, forcing myself to keep it together. Without a word, I lift her foot carefully and place it on a pillow to elevate it. She flinches slightly, and my jaw clenches.
“Rest,” I say, my voice low, controlled. “I’ll make the call and then get you some ice for the pain.”
She watches me, but I don’t wait for her to say anything. I turn and head out, needing a second to breathe.
The moment I enter the kitchen, I slam both hands on the counter, head hanging low between my shoulders as I force myself to breathe. I can feel my pulse hammering—wild and erratic. I hate it. Hate how seeing her in pain messes with my head. Hate how the urge to pull her into my arms and make it all go away is so damn strong.
I squeeze my eyes shut, exhaling sharply.Get a grip.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and make a call, arranging for her car to be picked up and making sure her order gets delivered without a hitch. I ensure that every detail is handled, every possible issue taken care of. Because if I can’tfix her ankle, the least I can do is handle the one thing she’s panicking over.
Once everything is set, I end the call and slide the phone back into my pocket. Then, I move to the fridge, yanking the door open with more force than necessary. My fingers curl around the ice pack, gripping it a little too tightly. I shut the fridge and turn back. Time to take care of her.
