Sinful Pleasures

It was later in the afternoon, and her car was one of the few in the parking lot, which told Hunter she was still there. The door to her building was unlocked, but as he walked inside, the place was completely quiet.

“Elle?” he called out, bypassing the empty reception area as he started glancing into the various partitioned rooms for her. Since he’d never been to her place of business before, it was a process of elimination to find her, and he finally did in one of the back offices.

As soon as he saw her slumped over her desk, panic shot adrenaline through his veins and he rushed over to her, his heart beating erratically in his chest. Logically, he knew she was probably just taking a nap, but until he saw for himself that nothing was wrong, he couldn’t stop the protective feelings overwhelming him.

“Elle.” His voice was a soft murmur as he placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it an easy shake to gently wake her up.

She stirred, then groaned as she slowly lifted her head from where it had been resting on her arms. Through squinted eyes, she glanced around, seemingly disoriented as she turned her head to find him standing by her side. A frown marred her brow, and he couldn’t help but notice that her normally rosy complexion was pale.

She licked her dry, ashen lips as she tried to sit up and lean back in her chair, which seemed to take effort. “What are you doing here?” she asked in a raspy, confused tone of voice.

He tenderly brushed strands of blonde hair away from her face. “I’ve been trying to call and text for the past few hours, and when you didn’t answer, I wanted to see for myself that everything was okay.”

“I think I forgot to take my phone off silent mode when I got to work.” She pressed a hand to her forehead and made a show of swallowing. “God, my throat is so dry and scratchy,” she said, reaching for the cup of tea on her desk, which had probably cooled while she slept, and drinking the last of it.

She groaned again and pressed a hand to her midsection. “My stomach is so queasy, and my head is pounding . . . and now I’m feeling a little dizzy.”

Her symptoms added up to the obvious. “Sweetheart, I think you have the flu.”

“I think I do, too,” she admitted reluctantly as she looked up at him with miserable eyes. “I have so much to do at the office and I don’t have time to get sick.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve probably worn down your immune system, and your body is trying to tell you to slow down and take care of yourself for a change. Why don’t you shut off your computer and I’ll take you home?”

He expected an argument from this independent woman, but as she closed out the program she’d been working on and then turned off the computer, she shocked him with her acquiescence. “Thank you. I really appreciate it. I’m really not feeling well and I don’t think I can drive like this. I just want to go home and crawl into bed and sleep.”

Her reply said a lot about how horrible her symptoms were, and he gave her a reassuring smile. “That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

After grabbing her purse from a desk drawer, she stood up and swayed uneasily on her feet. Hunter quickly put an arm around her back and pulled her to his side to steady her.

“Can you walk out of here okay?” he asked, unable to keep the concern from edging into his voice. “Because I can carry you to the car if you don’t think you can make it that far.”

She managed to roll her eyes at him. “I’m just a little light-headed, not an invalid, and you’re not carrying me anywhere.”

But as he guided her out of the office, she leaned into him, her steps faltering. He couldn’t help but think how vulnerable she looked and how weak she felt against him as he helped her lock up the building, then put her into the passenger seat of his vehicle and secured her seat belt.

She gave him her home address, which he put into the GPS system, and while he drove to her place as quickly as the speed limits allowed, she curled her body toward the car door, pressed her cheek against the cool window, and wrapped her arms around her stomach. She closed her eyes, but the pained look on her face and the occasional moan that slipped past her lips told him how uncomfortable she was.

When they arrived at her house in a pricey neighborhood just outside the New York City limits, she dug into her purse and handed him the keys to unlock the front door, and he escorted her inside. The first thing he noticed was how lavishly decorated everything was, like the place had been newly renovated and furnished.

“Is anyone home?” he asked since the place was so quiet.

“No. Helena, Claire, and Gwen went shopping. I have no idea when they’ll be back.”

Perfect. The last thing he wanted was to deal with any of those three women. “Where is your room?” he asked.

“That way,” she said, pointing toward the right when he’d expected to have to help her up the sweeping staircase in the foyer to the second level.

Still using him for balance, she led the way through a spacious living room, then a modernized kitchen, to a small bedroom in the back that had a connecting bathroom, though the décor and furnishings were far more minimal than the rest of the house. He sat her down on the queen-sized bed that took up most of the space, then glanced around, frowning as he realized what this room had originally been intended for.

“Jesus, is this the maid’s quarters?” he asked incredulously.

A wry smile tipped up one corner of her mouth. “Actually, yes, it is.”

He stared at her, dumbfounded. “I don’t understand. This house is huge and there are only four of you living here and you’re in this cramped little room? How many bedrooms are there upstairs?”

“Four very large ones,” she said, and seemingly knowing what he was about to ask next, she held up a hand and explained. “When my father passed away, Helena decided to build herself an enormous custom closet out of one of the rooms, which happened to be my room at the time since it was right next to the master bedroom. So, I got relocated.”

“That’s fucking bullshit,” he said, doing his best to keep a lid on the fury that wanted to explode out of him for the despicable way Helena treated her. Instead, he focused on getting Elle as comfortable as possible.