Chapter 21
I woke in Alexander’s bed with a fever of 103 degrees and no memory of getting there.
The room was dim. A cool cloth rested across my forehead. Alexander sat in a chair beside the bed, sleeves rolled up, reading something on his phone.
“Why am I here?”
His head lifted immediately.
“You collapsed in the hallway.”
“I did not collapse.”
“You sat down on the floor and stopped answering questions.”
“That sounds less dramatic.”
“Your temperature disagrees.”
I tried to sit up.
His hand pressed lightly to my shoulder.
“Stay down.”
“Was that an order?”
“Yes.”
I was too tired to argue.
The physician believed I had picked up a viral infection on the pediatric ward, made worse by stress and too little sleep.
Alexand cancelled a diplomatic dinner.
I learned this when Ethan arrived with briefing folders and the expression of a man trying not to find the situation amusing.
“General, the ambassador has been informed.”
“Good.”
“He expressed concern for Mrs Reeves.”
“Acknowledged.”
Ethan glanced at me under three blankets.
“Madam.”
“Colonel.”
“I see the household has been neutralised by a virus.”
Alexander looked up.
“Leave.”
“Immediately, sir.”
Mia and Eleanor arrived that afternoon, bringing soup, gossip, and no respect for my dignity.
Eleanor found Alexander checking my temperature and smiled as if she had discovered evidence supporting a private theory.
“Don’t,” he told her.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You were about to.”
I laughed, which triggered a coughing fit and ended everyone else’s amusement.
That night, when my fever finally began to drop, Alexander sat at the edge of the bed.
“We need to address what happened at the gate.”
I groaned. “Now?”
“Not the argument. The vulnerability.”
“I am not a military installation.”
“No. You’re easier to hurt.”
The bluntness sobered me.
“Daniel reached the perimeter because you knew him and assumed familiarity meant safety. My enemies will rely on exactly that instinct if they ever target you.”
My stomach tightened.
“So what do you want me to do?”
“Learn basic self-defence. Situational awareness. Firearms safety.”
I stared at him.
“Guns?”
“Training only.”
“Alexander, I work with children. I don’t even like when people slam doors.”
“Which is why you will learn safely, with me.”
I started to protest.
He added, “When you’re fully recovered.”
His thumb brushed once across my wrist where he was checking my pulse.
“I am not trying to turn you into a soldier, Grace. I am trying to make sure fear does not decide what you can do.”
I looked at him in the low light.
The man who had kissed me in anger was now cooling my fever and planning lessons because danger frightened him more than intimacy did.
I loved him.
There was no longer any use pretending otherwise.
