“Stop making excuses and just do it,” he ordered.
Jesus, did healwayshave to be so brash?
If I could have rolled my eyes with them shut, I would have. My stomach swooped in discomfort again. “Sometimes I get these headaches, and they make me woozy. Occasionally, they make me faint,” I admitted.
It had been a long time since I shared that with someone, but the truth was that I suffered from chronic migraines since going through puberty as a teenager. Back then, they held me hostage even more than they did now.
I forced myself to focus on anything other than how that made me feel. Like the solid surface below me. My back was pressed against something hard, but I knew it wasn’t the floorbecause my feet were limp and hanging off the end of something.
“I’m not on the floor, am I?”
“No.” Weston cleared his throat. “I carried you over to one of the tables. The last place you should be lying is on the dirty ground.”
The irritation that came from his sharp words simmered out a tiny bit. Because that—what Weston did—was kind. Thoughtful. I couldn’t help but notice that and hang onto it. I was stuck in a game of tug of war over being angry with him while also being so dangerously attracted to the man. Knowing he moved me caused a spiral of tingles through my chest. Caused this anguish to fill me in the best, and worst, of ways—because I still had his brother to contend with outside of this room.
I sucked in a breath and inhaled deeply, letting it go as Weston’s fingers trailed over my forehead and brushed my bangs to the side. How horrible was it that I enjoyed his touch? That it made my heart crave a little more of it?
The pain in my side reared its ugly head again, aching in a way that a fresh bruise did. My eyes remained shut. I started to wonder if that was for the best, considering how close Weston was to me. I couldfeelhis body heat radiating off him and blanketing me like a cozy knitted throw.
“Did I hit my head?”
“It took me a minute to realize you were going down. Most of your weight landed on one side, but I moved fast enough to ensure your head was safe.”
I dipped my chin a little. To let him know I heard him but also as a wordless thank you. But then he spoke, his words so damn soft compared to every other one he had given me tonight.
“Olivia, I really,reallyneed you to open your eyes.”
“I don’t know…” I trailed off. The thought of the room spinning the tiniest bit made me want to roll over and heave. I hated that I fainted at all, that weakness consumed my body when I was in front of none other than him. Broody, ruthless,thoughtfulWeston Taylors.
“So, what, you’re going to lie there all night with your eyes closed and not move? You need to eat something. Drink some water. Take something that’ll get rid of that headache so you don’t pass out on me again,” Weston said, that stone-like tone returning. It wasn’t as bad as before, but it teased the shape of his words, promising me that it’d only be a matter of time before it was back for good.
It was for the best my eyelids were still shut because I knew I wouldn’t have been able to look him in the eyes. “I did take something for it.”
“So then why didn’t it work?”
“Because that’s how it is sometimes. Once the symptoms start, it’s hard to stop them, especially when stress exacerbates them. I have to…ride them out.”
My mind went back to Weston’s accusations, and this fury flared inside of me all over again. I told myself to let it go because it wasn’t going to help me. If anything, it was only going to make me feel worse.
Dread climbed its way up my legs as if they were ladders and clung to the hem of my cornflower blue dress that rose up to my thighs.
Weston’s words were a low murmur and brushed along my skin like a knuckle trailing over my cheek. “Just…tell me what I need to do to help you. You scared me half to death when you dropped like you did. I don’t want to see that happen again.”
Emotion. His voice was full of it. Shame. Fear. Guilt. They coated him with an array of bright colors, like when youwent to one of those paint parties and the neon colors glimmered on your white clothing under blue lights.
“I don’t think there’s anything?—”
“Don’t say that. There’s always something that can be done, so tell me what it is.”
My stomach fluttered, doing a cartwheel before landing perfectly on its feet.
My eyelids loosened a little, but I kept them shut.
“If you don’t give me something, Olivia, I’ll be half inclined to fire you or force you into resignation.”
My eyes flung open at that. I loved working for Taylors Security. I might’ve only been a secretary and handled most of the clerical work, but he couldn’t do that, could he? I didn’t want to move too quickly in fear I’d actually get sick.
“Fucking finally.” He huffed out an exasperated breath. “I don’t appreciate you not acknowledging me, especially when I’m standing here making sure you’re okay and not about to drop to the floor again.”
