STEADY HANDS

NAILA'S POV

I didn't say anything, refused to pay any heed to the smirk pulling at his lips.

Fuck him.

That stupid annoying smirk didn't falter. Not even once.

“I'm taking the couch,” I said finally.

His smirk dropped at that brieflyㅡ take thatㅡ then he pinched his nose bridge. “You're being insufferable right now, Naila. It's a king-sized bed.”

“Oh my God, thank you so much for the insight.” I glared at him. “What's next? Should I order some champagne? Oh, wait, the hotel will bring us some since we're apparently married.” I hissed.

Silence.

“You're overreacting.”

“Thank you, sir. It's one of my best traits.”

That made a smile pull at his lips but it was gone as quickly as it came. “Fair enough, Naila. Make yourself comfortable. You know I wouldn't force you to do anything you didn't want to.”

I paused, brain short circuiting for a second before I regained myself. “Yeah, sure.”

I hated the way he still caught me off guard with his soft words and that stupid look in his eyes. He knew what he was doing. That bastard.

“Go get ready. We'll be meeting the team in half an hour so you may want to tidy up or something. I'll use the second bathroom. If you need anythingㅡ”

“I know how to take a shower without you, sir.” I stopped him before he could finish that statement.

His head tilted to the side. “I know you do. Doesn't mean I can't look out for you.”

Before I could make sense of whatever that meant, he was already picking up his phone and disappearing into the other wing of the suite.

I walked into my bathroom and shut the door, leaning on it.

Fuck.

My stomach churned and I wobbled to the hand basin, gripping the edges tightly as I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

I looked a mess.

My hands were trembling as I fished out my phone from my pocket and sent a quick text to Nadya before I took a calming breath.

The food that I ate on the plane was barely a snack and I was already craving more.

My fingers gripped the edge of my shirt, slipping under the fabric to press against my cold stomach.

Get it together, Naila.

I grudgingly peeled off my clothes and got into the shower, taking my time under the warm water before I stepped out of it in a bathrobe, going into the private adjoined room that served as a closet while drying my hair.

Remy had picked out the clothes apparently. Or rather employed someone to do it. Wasn't sure which. But they looked comfortable and my style.

Why couldn't he be wrong about my taste so I could find a reason to hate him in my head?

That was stupid.

With a sigh, I threw on barely corporate clothes with boots and walked back out into the living space, packing my hair into a ponytail.

Thenㅡ I paused. Remy was standing there. Now wearing a dark shirt with a few buttons popped open, revealing hisㅡ

Don't look.

“You look good.” He nodded at me.

My eyes widened slightly but I hummed. “Thank you.”

“Shall we?” He gestured to the door.

I nodded, gingerly walking out the door as he trailed behind me, his presence evidently nerve-wracking.

We walked in silence for what seemed to be several minutes before we got to the elevator and I stepped in beside him.

Remy pressed the button for the floor where the employees were already waiting for us and the elevator lurched upward smoothly.

Silence stretched between us and I struggled to think of anything. Definitely not the fact that I could lean in and take a long whiff of his cologne.

Would that be weird?

“So,” he said casually, breaking it. “I went through the revised briefing from legal. There are some inconsistencies in the compliance notes.”

Of course he started with work to break the silence.

Whatever. I could talk about work.

I straightened instinctively, fingers curling around the strap of my bag. “Which section?”

“Pages eleven through fourteen. The risk assessment summary. Did finance send you the amended projections yet?”

“Yes,” I replied quickly. “I merged them with security’s report last night and highlighted the discrepancies. The second and third projections don’t align with Zurich’s regulatory expectations, so I flagged them for review.”

He glanced at me, impressed despite himself. “Good. I’ll need you to sit in during the negotiations as you know. Mostly to take notes and cross-reference. I don't think there's much for you to do, just wanted to let you know before then.”

“I can do that,” I said, nodding. “I already prepared a condensed version for the executive team.”

“Of course you did.” There was no sarcasm in his voice. Just…contentment.

It made my chest feel oddly tight. The elevator continued to rise.

That’s when my stomach rolledㅡHard.

I swallowed, my throat tightening as heat crept up my neck. Oh no. Not now. Not here. Not in a glass elevator with my boss who thought I had everything under control.

I shifted my weight slightly, pretending to adjust my bag while my insides twisted violently.

Please. Please. Just hold it together until dinner.

I pressed my lips together, breathing slowly through my nose like I’d read on some pregnancy forum at three in the morning.

Remy continued talking, oblivious. “We’ll be meeting the Swiss representatives at eight sharp. I don’t expect—”

My vision blurred for a second.

Shit.

“Naila?” He paused mid-sentence.

I snapped my head up. “What?”

“You’ve gone quiet.”

“I’m listening,” I said too quickly. “You were saying eight sharp.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I lied, immediately. “Perfectly fine.”

The elevator dinged again, signaling our floor.

Thank God.

The doors slid open and cool air rushed in, hitting my face. Relief washed through me—short-lived and premature.

Because I stepped forward and the floor tilted.

My foot slipped, balance betraying me completely as dizziness slammed into me so suddenly that I lost control.

“Whoa—”

His hand shot out instantly, gripping my arm and pulling me back against his chest before I could faceplant in the hallway.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as he steadied me. “You always do this.”

I blinked, heart racing as I tried to get myself back together. “Do what?”

“Pretend you’ve got everything under control.”

“I do,” I protested weakly, trying to pull away. “Let go of me.”

He didn’t. Instead, he studied my face closely—too closely—jaw tightening as he reached into his pocket with his free hand.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

He was already dialing. “Changing plans.”

“No, Remy, don’t—”

“Hi,” he said into the phone calmly. “Yes, this is Remy Sterling. I’m going to have to postpone tonight’s dinner. Apologies for the short notice—something came up. Yes. Tomorrow will be fine.”

I stared at him in horror. “You can’t just—”

He ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket. Then, before I could react— He bent and scooped me up.

Just like that. Effortless. Like I weighed nothing.

“What the hell are you doing?!” I squeaked, gripping his shoulder instinctively. “Put me down!”

“Keep quiet,” he said firmly, already turning back toward the suite. “You’re pale and you’re not fine.”

“I said I am!”

“And I said keep quiet.”

My vision blurred again and I knew the hunger I ignored was back to haunt me.

Fuck.

“This is completely unnecessary,” I muttered but my voice was getting weaker.

“Humor me.”

“I am your assistant, not your—”

“Problem?” he finished softly.

That shut me up.

Because all I could think about was his warm hands around me.

And how fucking right it felt.

My head burrowed into his chest and everything went dark.