Chapter 13

Elena’s POV

My face was burning.

Not from embarrassment…though there was plenty of that…but from the sheer awareness of being carried in Jonathan Hart’s arms like I weighed nothing.

He didn’t speak as we rode the elevator back up to the suite. He just held me, his grip firm and steady, like he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. Even though I was clearly okay now.

By the time we got inside, I was soaked through, my clothes clung to me uncomfortably, the water from my hair was all over the floor at this point..

Jonathan set me down gently, his hands lingering on my waist for just a moment before he stepped back.

“You need to get out of those clothes,” he said, his tone all business. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’m fine,” I said stubbornly, even though I was shivering.

He disappeared into the bedroom and came back a moment later with a thick, oversized shirt…his shirt, judging by the size.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to me. “This will be more comfortable than whatever you packed.”

“I have my own clothes…”

“Elena.” He called my name tiredly“Just take the shirt.”

I stared at him for a moment, then sighed and took it.

The bathroom was warm and bright, a welcome contrast to the cold, wet chaos outside. I peeled off my soaked clothes and pulled on Jonathan’s shirt, which fell to mid-thigh and smelled like him…woodsy cologne, clean laundry, and something else I couldn’t quite place but found oddly comforting.

I stood there for a moment, staring at myself in the mirror, trying to ignore the way my heart was still racing.

Everything was going well so far when I felt a sharp, twisting pain low in my abdomen.

I closed my eyes and cursed under my breath “Fuck”

No. Not now.

I felt it again, sharper this time, and I knew immediately what it was.

My period.

Of course. Of course it would start now, a week early, in a hotel suite in Singapore with Jonathan Hart waiting outside.

I tried to steady my breathing, i trued to tell myself it wasn’t a big deal, that I could handle this.

But the pain was getting worse, the cramping ache made it hard to stand up straight.

I gripped the edge of the sink, waiting for it to pass, but it didn’t.

When I finally stepped out of the bathroom, Jonathan looked up from where he was sitting on the couch, his expression shifting immediately.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” I lied, forcing myself to walk normally even though every step sent another wave of pain through my body.

I reached for a glass of water on the table, but my hands were shaking so badly that it nearly slipped from my fingers.

Jonathan caught it before it could fall, his hand closing over mine.

“You’re not fine,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong?”

I wanted to lie again, to brush him off and pretend everything was okay. But the pain was getting worse, and I could feel the embarrassment creeping up my neck.

“It’s… my period,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “It started early, and I don’t have anything with me.”

“Oh” he whispered .

He just nodded and pulled out his phone.

“I’ll call the front desk,” he said.

“The hotel store is probably closed…”

“Then I’ll go out and find a pharmacy.”

“Jonathan, it’s pouring…”

He was already grabbing his jacket.

“I’ll be back,” he said, and before I could argue, he was out the door.

Twenty minutes later, he returned, completely soaked, his hair plastered to his forehead and his jacket dripping water onto the floor.

In his hands was a large shopping bag.

He set it on the table and started pulling things out…sanitary pads, painkillers, a heating pad, and a bar of expensive-looking chocolate.

I stared at the items, my throat tightening.

“How did you know…?”

“I guessed,” he said simply. “Did I get the right ones?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

He handed me the painkillers and a bottle of water. “Take these. And use the heating pad. It should help.”

I did as he said, feeling more embarrassed and grateful than I’d ever felt in my life.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, already heading toward the bathroom to change out of his wet clothes.

The next morning, I woke up alone.

The bed was warm and comfortable, and for a moment I just lay there, staring at the ceiling and trying to process everything that had happened the night before.

Then I noticed the note on the nightstand.

I went to the meeting. You needed rest. There’s hot water in the kettle. Take care of yourself. …J

I picked up the note and read it again, my chest tightening with an emotion I didn’t want to name.

Daniel had never done this. Never taken my pain seriously. He’d always made me feel like I was overreacting, like period cramps were just something I should push through without complaining.

But Jonathan…

Jonathan had driven out into a storm to get me what I needed. Had stayed up to make sure I was okay. Had left me to rest instead of dragging me to a meeting.

I set the note down and closed my eyes.

For the first time, I found myself comparing the two men.

And Jonathan was winning.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​