I stopped her hand. “What are you doing?”
“It’s so hot,” Bianca murmured, trying to pull off the blanket.
“No.” I shook my head. That would only make things worse.
She squirmed uncomfortably, her forehead damp with sweat, her body radiating heat.
But letting her be uncovered wasn’t an option. I needed to figure out another solution.
“Wait here for a moment.”
I rummaged through the drawer and found the remote for the air conditioner. Adjusting the temperature slightly lower, I let a gentle stream of cool air flow through the room.
Once the temperature dropped a little, Bianca finally stopped writhing.
She had quieted down.
But just as I exhaled the breath I had been holding, she shivered beneath the blanket, clutching it tightly to her small frame. Her frail body trembled slightly.
“So cold,” she whispered.
I checked the room temperature. It wasn’t too low.
Still, she was a patient, and her body was likely more sensitive to changes. Resigned, I picked up the remote once more and raised the temperature by a few degrees.
I didn’t dare adjust it too much, worried that the sudden shift might make her feel worse. But I hadn’t expected her sensitivity to be this extreme.
“Hot,” she mumbled again.
After several back-and-forth adjustments, I finally gave up and moved to her bedside. Leaning closer, I studied her for a long moment.
Her skin was still burning hot. Even from a slight distance, her fevered body heat was palpable.
She wasn’t faking it. She was really sick.
The medication Garrett had given her must have included a sedative, as she was sleeping deeply. Otherwise, I might have suspected she was deliberately toying with me, alternating between hot and cold.
Resigned to my fate, I straightened up and brought over a chair, planting myself at her bedside. For the rest of the night, I operated the air conditioner under her unintentional commands.
When the faint light of dawn seeped through the curtains, I allowed myself to close my eyes for a fleeting moment.
The next time I opened them, it was 6:54 a. m.
Daylight had fully arrived, though the heavy curtains kept most of the sunlight at bay.
Sleeping while seated was far from comfortable. As I stood and stretched, my joints cracked loudly, like the creaking of an old machine.
Luckily, I kept a regular workout routine. After a few stretches, the stiffness in my body eased.
I bent down to pick up the remote from the floor and placed it back in the drawer. Turning around, I went to check on Bianca.
To my relief, her fever had broken.
Garrett’s medication had worked.
I let out a long breath, finally feeling some measure of ease.
Just as I was about to head out to freshen up, I caught a sound coming from downstairs.
Was that Mae?
I threw on my jacket and descended the stairs.
Sure enough, Mae was already in the kitchen, starting her morning routine.
“Good morning, sir,” Mae greeted me with her usual energy.
“I ran into your assistant at the door,” she said as she worked. “He dropped off some documents and new clothes for you. I put them in the living room.”
I glanced over and saw them right away.
The documents were neatly placed on the coffee table, next to a paper bag bearing the logo of a luxury casualwear store I frequented. Inside were a few neatly folded pieces of clothing.
Thirty minutes earlier, I had called the store manager I knew, asking her to pick out some homewear and sleepwear that a young woman might like. Conveniently, my assistant was already on his way to deliver the documents, so he brought the clothes along.
“Mae, can I ask for your help?” I handed her the bag and briefly explained my request.
I needed Mae to help Bianca change into clean clothes.
“Is she your guest?” Mae asked warmly as she took the bag. “Of course, leave it to me.”
With Mae’s assistance, taking care of Bianca became much easier. Tasks that I, as a man, found inconvenient-like helping her change or cleaning her up-could now be handled by Mae.
I took the documents back to my room to wash up.
After changing Bianca’s clothes, Mae came by to ask about breakfast.
“Pancakes and an iced Americano,” I replied. “Garrett is in the guest room. Please prepare a BLT sandwich for him-bacon, lettuce, and tomato.”
Mae, familiar with Garrett’s lively personality, smiled knowingly. “Got it, sir. Breakfast will be ready in 15 minutes.”
“Oh, and sir,” she added with a playful smile, “your guest is very beautiful.”
I froze for a moment, realizing she must have misunderstood.
“Thank you, but she’s not-”
Mae cut me off with a knowing grin. “I understand, sir. Just a friend, right?”
Her teasing tone made my protests feel futile.
“She’s just…” I tried again.
“Don’t worry, sir. I get it,” Mae interrupted again, clearly unconvinced. “I’ll get breakfast ready.”
As she walked away, I scratched my head in frustration. Why did no one believe me?
I sighed, hoping Mae and Garrett wouldn’t say anything in front of Bianca that might lead to misunderstandings.
If Bianca thought I had orchestrated this, it wouldn’t end well.
I could almost picture it now-being hunted down by the New York mafia.
I let out a bitter laugh at the thought.
Still, she was staying in my house. That meant I was responsible for her health and recovery.
I went back to Bianca’s room to check on her.
Her temperature was still slightly elevated, but compared to last night, she was much better. Her breathing was steady, and she seemed to be sleeping peacefully.
I sat on the sofa in her room and worked for a while. When I glanced at the clock, it read 7:58 a. m.
Remembering Garrett’s morning meeting, I put down my work and went to wake him up.
Knocking on his door, I called out, “Garrett, time to get up. You’ve got a meeting this morning.”
There was no response, though I could hear faint sounds from inside.
Leaning closer to the door, I realized it was his phone alarm, playing one of his custom ringtones.
The alarm blared for three full minutes, the song ending without him stirring.
“Garrett!” I knocked again, louder this time. “Wake up, now!”
I tried the doorknob, only to find it locked.
That idiot had locked himself in.
“Garrett!”
Five minutes later, he finally dragged himself to the door, half-asleep as he opened it.
“Morning, Bert,” he greeted lazily.
I crossed my arms, my expression cold. “I’m not going to be your human alarm clock anymore.”
“I’m up, I’m up. Don’t be mad,” Garrett grinned, quickly changing the subject. “How’s your girlfriend-uh, I mean, the girl you brought back?”
“Her fever’s down a little, but she’s still sick.”
“The infection hasn’t cleared completely,” Garrett said as he pulled on his clothes. “I’ll check on her again.”