Chapter 21 – Doctor’s Orders

The morning light had barely crept through the skyscraper windows of Blackwell Tower when Adrian found himself pacing the length of his office. The city hummed below, a restless machine of traffic and ambition, but his mind was still snagged on something far more intimate than quarterly reports or pending acquisitions.

Nine hours. He had slept for nine uninterrupted hours again.

For any other man, that was unremarkable. For Adrian Blackwell—the man whose insomnia had ruled his nights for nearly a decade—it was nothing short of shocking.

And he hated how easily his thoughts connected the fact to Elena.

He set his jaw, reaching for the phone. A secure line buzzed, and within moments a familiar, exasperating voice filled the room.

“Blackwell. To what do I owe this early-morning honor?”

“Cut the dramatics, James,” Adrian muttered, lowering himself into the leather chair. “I need to ask you something.”

On the other end, Dr. James Forrester leaned back in his chair at the clinic, a smirk already forming. “This sounds serious. Did my miracle advice finally work?”

Adrian closed his eyes briefly. He should’ve known James would jump straight to it.

“I slept,” he said finally, the word tasting foreign. “For more than nine hours.”

There was a pause, then a sharp whistle. “Well, I’ll be damned. So the great Adrian Blackwell actually listened to me for once. You shared a bed with Elena?”

Adrian’s grip on the armrest tightened. “This isn’t a game.”

“No,” James said cheerfully, “it’s science. And what did I tell you back at the mansion? Try sleeping with your wife. She might be the key.” His laugh rumbled through the receiver. “And lo and behold, I was right. Again.”

Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t gloat.”

“I’m a doctor and your friend. Gloating is practically mandatory.” James’s tone softened, though curiosity lingered beneath. “How’d it happen? Don’t tell me you planned it.”

Adrian’s mind flickered back to the memory: Elena scowling, tossing in bed, only to settle reluctantly on her side of the mattress. He remembered the way her warmth had seeped across the distance between them, the subtle shift when her breathing evened out. Then, somehow, his head had found its way onto her chest.

The most peaceful sleep of his life.

“I didn’t plan anything,” Adrian said curtly. “It just… happened.”

“And it worked.” James’s voice turned thoughtful. “You’ve been fighting this insomnia for years. Drugs, therapy, meditation—you name it, we’ve tried it. Nothing’s worked longer than a week. And now, magically, one woman knocks you out like a tranquilizer. You realize how insane that sounds?”

Adrian didn’t respond. He stared out at the skyline, his expression unreadable.

James sighed. “Look, if it worked twice, it’s not a fluke. It’s her. You need to keep sharing a bed with her. Every night.”

“Not possible.”

“Why not?”

Adrian’s lips curved faintly, a humorless smile. “You don’t know Elena. She doesn’t tolerate being told what to do. She already thinks I’m controlling.”

“Then don’t tell her,” James said easily. “Just do it. You’re married, for God’s sake. You have every excuse in the world to sleep beside your wife.”

Adrian leaned back, his gaze hardening. “You’re suggesting I manipulate her.”

“I’m suggesting you stay alive,” James countered. “Insomnia at this level—it’s not just sleepless nights. It’ll ruin your body, your mind, everything you’ve built. You know it. I know it. If Elena is your cure, you’d be an idiot to ignore it.”

Silence stretched across the line. Adrian’s mind was a storm of calculations, strategies, and unwanted truths.

Finally, he said, “This stays between us.”

“Of course,” James replied. “Doctor-patient confidentiality. I won’t say a word to Elena.” He paused, then added slyly, “But I’ll be waiting for my wedding toast when you finally admit she’s more than just a cure.”

Adrian ended the call before James could press further.

---

By afternoon, the weight of the conversation lingered like a shadow. His meetings blurred together; even the numbers on financial projections seemed distant, meaningless. Each time he closed his eyes, he saw Elena—her stubborn chin tilted upward, her eyes blazing, her voice sharp and alive.

How had she become the one person who could quiet the chaos in his mind?

When the final meeting adjourned, Adrian stayed behind, his hand pressed to the cool glass of the office window. He knew what James expected. He also knew James was right.

The question was whether Adrian could do it without giving Elena more power over him than she already had.

---

That evening, Elena was curled on the sofa in the private lounge, a book balanced on her knees. She looked relaxed, but her mind was elsewhere. She hadn’t stopped thinking about the morning either—the way Adrian’s head had rested on her chest, how vulnerable he’d seemed in that fleeting moment.

She had never seen him like that. Not the cold, immaculate CEO, but a man stripped of his armor, caught in something so… human.

It unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

The sound of footsteps drew her attention. Adrian entered, his tie loosened, his expression calm as ever.

“You’re late,” she said automatically, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Meetings,” he replied simply. He crossed the room, pouring himself a glass of water, before adding, “I’ll be in our room tonight.”

Elena blinked. “Our room?”

He set the glass down, gray eyes steady on hers. “Yes. That’s what married couples do, isn’t it?”

Her lips parted in disbelief. “You’ve barely acknowledged our marriage in public, and now suddenly you want to play husband and wife?”

Adrian didn’t flinch. “You said yourself appearances matter. Sharing a bed is part of it.”

Elena narrowed her eyes. Something in his tone was too smooth, too practiced. “You expect me to believe this is about appearances?”

“You don’t have to believe anything,” Adrian said coolly. “Just don’t fight me on this.”

Her heart gave an annoyed thud. “Unbelievable. First you dictate where I can and can’t go, now you’re dictating where I sleep?”

“Not dictating,” he corrected. “Stating.”

She stood, arms crossed tightly. “You’re impossible.”

He met her glare evenly. “So are you.”

For a moment, they were locked in silent battle. Then Elena huffed, muttering under her breath, “Fine. But if you snore, I’m moving to the guest room.”

Adrian’s mouth twitched, almost like he wanted to smile, but he said nothing.

---

Later that night, Elena slipped under the silk covers of the master bed, turning deliberately to face the wall. She refused to acknowledge the weight of Adrian joining her, the subtle dip of the mattress, the faint scent of his cologne drifting closer.

Minutes ticked by. Her eyes stayed open, determined. She wouldn’t let his presence rattle her.

But then… silence. Deep, even breathing filled the room.

She turned her head slightly. Adrian was already asleep.

Fast asleep.

Her lips parted in astonishment. She had never seen someone surrender to slumber so quickly, especially not a man like him. His features, normally sharp and unreadable, were softened by rest.

Something tugged inside her chest.

She whispered, so quietly even she barely heard it, “You’re not so untouchable after all, are you?”

Adrian didn’t stir.

Elena lay awake, staring at the ceiling, her heart thudding with a mix of irritation and something dangerously close to tenderness.

And though she would never admit it, part of her was glad he’d chosen to sleep beside her.