James knelt beside Victoria's unconscious form, his heart pounding with a mixture of concern and frustration. He reached out tentatively to check on her, and when his hand accidentally brushed against her forehead, he immediately flinched back. Her skin was burning with fever, radiating heat that explained her sudden collapse.
Panic flickered through him as he glanced toward his window, searching for any sign of Davidson inside a familiar black sedan. Victoria never went anywhere without her driver, but the street remained empty. She had come here alone, in her condition, driven by whatever desperation had brought her to his doorstep.
James carefully lifted Victoria onto his couch, intending to step away and figure out his next move. But the moment he tried to rise, her fingers locked around his wrist with surprising strength. Even unconscious, she clung to him with a grip that spoke of deep-seated terror of abandonment.
"Victoria, let go," he murmured, trying to gently pry her fingers away. But her hold only tightened, her unconscious mind apparently determined not to lose him again.
James sighed in defeat and settled onto the edge of the couch beside her. His phone felt heavy in his hand as he scrolled through his contacts, stopping at a number he had hoped never to use again. Dr. Carmen Martinez had been Victoria's personal physician for years, and James had met her several times during their former work relationship.
The phone rang twice before a professional voice answered. "Dr. Martinez speaking."
"Dr. Martinez, this is James Mitchell. I used to be Victoria Sharp's secretary." The words came easily; it was simpler than explaining their actual relationship.
"James! What a surprise. How can I help you?"
"Victoria is here with me, and she's collapsed. She has a very high temperature and seems to be in poor condition overall."
Dr. Martinez's sigh was audible over the phone. "I've been trying to get that stubborn woman to take her medication properly for weeks. She has a fever that she's been ignoring, along with other health issues stemming from stress and poor self-care."
James listened as the doctor prescribed specific medications and gave detailed instructions for bringing down Victoria's temperature. The conversation was interrupted by the urgent beeping of Dr. Martinez's emergency pager.
"I have to go, James. Follow those instructions exactly, and call me if her condition worsens."
The line went dead, leaving James staring at his phone in bewilderment. Who was supposed to pick Victoria up? He didn't have Davidson's number memorized, and calling an ambulance would involve procedures and questions he wasn't prepared to handle. The thought of accompanying her to a hospital, of being thrust back into her world, made his chest tight with anxiety.
James called Alex, his voice strained as he explained he would be running late to work. The disappointment in his assistant's voice only added to his growing frustration with the situation he found himself trapped in.
Victoria's fever-heated body felt unnaturally light as James lifted her, intending to take her to his bedroom where she could rest more comfortably. But every step he took seemed to trigger her subconscious panic. Her grip on his shirt tightened, and even in her unconscious state, she seemed to sense any attempt at separation.
James needed towels and cold water to bring down her temperature, but Victoria's death grip made it impossible for him to move freely. Frustration mounting, he realized he would have to bring everything to her rather than the other way around.
The bathroom felt cramped as James sat on the tile floor with Victoria curled in his lap like a child. He turned on the handheld showerhead, letting cool water cascade over both of them. Victoria's fevered murmurs filled the small space as the water soaked through their clothes, her body gradually cooling against his.
James found himself studying her face as the water streamed over them both. The sharp angles of her cheekbones were more pronounced now, evidence of weight loss and stress. Dark circles shadowed her closed eyes, and her usually perfect skin looked pale and fragile. This wasn't the commanding woman who had controlled every aspect of their relationship. This was someone who looked broken in ways that had nothing to do with her fever.
The rational part of his mind insisted he shouldn't care about her suffering, that she had brought this on herself through her own actions. But sitting there with her trembling body pressed against him, James couldn't silence the protective instincts that her vulnerability awakened.
After what felt like hours but was probably only thirty minutes, James felt satisfied that Victoria's body temperature had dropped to a more manageable level. The task of changing them both out of their soaked clothes proved to be another challenge entirely. Victoria's unconscious mind seemed programmed to panic at any hint of separation, making every movement a careful negotiation.
James found himself moving with the practiced efficiency of someone who had once known every detail of her preferences. He located one of his old t-shirts that would be oversized enough to serve as a nightgown, carefully dressing her while trying to maintain what dignity he could for both of them.
Drying her hair required patience he wasn't sure he possessed. Victoria's dark locks clung damply to her face and shoulders, and James found muscle memory guiding his movements as he worked the towel through the strands. How many times had he done this before, in happier circumstances when caring for her had been an act of love rather than reluctant obligation?
When he finally succeeded in settling Victoria back on his bed, James attempted once more to free himself from her grasp. He moved slowly, carefully loosening her fingers one by one from their grip on his shirt. For a moment, it seemed he had succeeded.
Then Victoria's eyes flew open, wild with panic, and she shot upright with a strangled scream.
"Don't leave me! Please, James, don't leave!"
Her hands found him again with desperate speed, clutching at his arms, his shirt, anything that would keep him within reach. Her whole body shook with terror that seemed far out of proportion to his simple attempt to step away.
"I'm not leaving," James heard himself say, his voice gentler than he intended. "You're sick, Victoria. I just need to get your medication."
"No," she whispered, her grip tightening impossibly. "You'll go and you won't come back. I can't... I can't handle that again."
The raw vulnerability in her voice sent cracks through the walls James had built around his heart. He found himself sitting back down on the bed, pulling her trembling form against his chest as he had done countless times before. His hand moved in soothing circles on her back, a gesture so automatic he didn't realize he was doing it until she began to calm.
"I'm here," he murmured, hating himself for the comfort he was providing but unable to stop. "Just rest."
Victoria's breathing gradually slowed as exhaustion overtook her anxiety. Within minutes, she had fallen into a fitful sleep against his shoulder, her fever-warm cheek pressed against his neck.
James carefully reached for his phone, ordering porridge and the medications Dr. Martinez had recommended from an online pharmacy that promised rapid delivery. Twenty minutes felt like an eternity as he sat motionless, Victoria's sleeping form keeping him prisoner on his own bed.
When the delivery arrived, James managed the exchange at his door without waking Victoria, though her unconscious grip on his shirt never loosened. Back in the bedroom, he filled a glass with water and gently shook her awake.
"Victoria, you need to take these pills."
She stirred slowly, her eyes unfocused and glassy with fever. James helped her sit up, supporting her weight as he placed the medications in her palm. Her hands shook so badly that she nearly dropped the pills, and James found himself closing his fingers around hers to steady them.
The porridge sat untouched on the bedside table as Victoria struggled with the simple act of swallowing the medication. Her coordination was compromised by fever and exhaustion, and James watched with growing concern as she failed to manage even the basic task of bringing food to her mouth.
Without conscious thought, James found himself reaching for the spoon. The first bite of porridge she accepted mechanically, like a child being fed. Each subsequent spoonful required patience and gentle coaxing, and James felt his worry deepen as he realized just how severely her condition had deteriorated.
Her temperature was rising again, though not to the dangerous levels of earlier. James touched his palm to her forehead, frowning at the heat that radiated from her skin. The fever would likely continue to spike and break throughout the day, requiring constant monitoring.
Why do I still care? James asked himself as he watched Victoria struggle with another spoonful of porridge. After everything she did, after all the lies and manipulation, why does seeing her like this affect me at all?
The questions had no comfortable answers. He told himself it was simple human decency, that he would help anyone in such distressed condition. But the tight feeling in his chest when she looked at him with those fever-bright eyes suggested his motivations were far more complicated.
Once she recovers, James promised himself, once she's well enough to leave, I'll send her away for good. This changes nothing between us.
But even as he made that vow, doubt crept in around the edges. Victoria finished what little porridge she could manage and immediately sought the warmth of his body, curling against him with the trustful abandon of someone who had forgotten all the reasons they should maintain distance.
James stared down at her sleeping face, torn between the urge to push her away and the treacherous desire to hold her closer. Her dark hair spilled across his chest, and her breathing had settled into the deeper rhythm of genuine rest.
The phone call to his office to cancel his day seemed inevitable now. There was no way he could leave Victoria alone in her condition, despite every rational argument his mind presented for why her welfare shouldn't be his responsibility.
Going to work today is impossible, James realized with a sigh of resignation.