Brunch was an elaborate affair spread across the Beauchamps’ solarium. He pushed food around his plate while Eleanor shared stories about her father’s art collection and Andrew outlined the final steps for their merger.
“Wednesday works,” he said, when Andrew mentioned the paperwork timeline, forcing himself to take a sip of coffee that tasted metallic on his tongue.
By the time they prepared to leave, his headache had returned
The helicopter waited, rotors already spinning. He reached for her hand to guide her toward it, the gesture instinctive rather than rehearsed. Her fingers curled into his like they’d done it a thousand times.
Once inside, the doors sealed, and the world became a thrum of sound. He slipped on the headset, adjusting the mic as the rotors roared overhead. Across from him, she did the same. He leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes as they lifted off. The motion sent his stomach lurching in protest.
“Ronan?” Her voice came through the headset, concern clear even through the tinny audio. “You’re shivering.”
He opened his eyes to find her watching him, her face creased with worry. “It’s cold,” he said, which wasn’t entirely a lie. Despite the mild September day, he felt frozen from the inside out.
“It’s seventy-five degrees,” she said, reaching across to press her palm against his forehead. The gesture was so surprising, so intimate, that he didn’t think to pull away. Her hand was cool against his burning skin, and for a moment the relief was so profound he nearly groaned aloud.
“You’re burning up,” she said, her voice sharp with alarm.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“You are not fine. You’re sick.”
“I don’t get sick.”
She rolled her eyes, somehow both exasperated and fond. “Congratulations on being human after all. When was the last time you took anything for that fever?”
He checked his watch, startled to realize how much time had passed. “Aspirin at six. Wore off.”
She dug through her purse, producing a small travel container. “Tylenol. Take two.”
He swallowed the pills with water from the bottle she offered, then leaned back again, surrendering to the exhaustion that threatened to pull him under.
“It’s the swim,” she said through the headset. “Cold water, stress, not enough sleep on that ridiculous sofa. Your immune system didn’t stand a chance.”
“Worth it,” he said, the words slipping out without conscious thought.
“What was?” she asked.
He opened his eyes to find her watching him with a mixture of concern and uncertainty. The fever had lowered his defenses, made him reckless with truths he normally kept locked away.
“Jumping in after you,” he said, too drained to filter his thoughts. “Would do it again.”
Something flashed across her face, wonder and warmth that made his chest tighten.
“Who knew you had a knight in shining armor hiding under all those tailored suits,” she said, the teasing note failing to mask the genuine emotion threading through her voice.
The rest of the flight passed in a haze. They landed at the Manhattan heliport. He managed to get out, but when he reached for his weekend bag, she intercepted him, slinging both bags over her shoulder with surprising strength.
“Keys,” she said firmly, holding out her hand.
“Why?” The word came out slurred, his tongue feeling thick and uncooperative.
“Give me your car keys. You aren’t driving,” she said, leaving no room for argument. “I’m driving.”
Nobody drove his car. The world tilted dangerously, and he had to close his eyes until it steadied.
“I can get a car service.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She maneuvered them toward the parking area where he’d left his car on Friday. “Keys. Now.”
