CHAPTER TEN — FEVERED CONFESSIONS

Monday crept in slowly, like a soft ache.

Dianne woke with the sunlight bleeding through her curtains, her mind replaying flashes from Roy’s birthday—the almost kiss, the electricity, the tension she could still feel lingering on her skin.

She groaned and buried her face in her pillow.

“Get a grip, Dianne,” she whispered.

“It was just a moment. Stop overthinking.”

But her heart refused to listen.

She stood, stretched, and walked to the mirror. The woman staring back looked conflicted—eyes tired but bright, lips pressed tight as though trying to hold back the truth.

Dianne stood in front of her mirror, smoothing down the soft cream blouse she chose — elegant, subtle, yet somehow… extra. She added small pearl earrings, glossed her lips with care, and let her hair fall in loose waves.

She didn’t know why she was doing all this.

Or maybe she did, but didn’t want to admit it.

She stared at her reflection and sighed.

“What are you doing, Dianne?” she muttered.

“It’s just work. You’re just going to work.”

But she didn’t believe her own voice

A part of her wanted to see Roy again—wanted to see the way his eyes softened when they landed on her.

But another part… the cautious part… whispered:

Keep your distance. Don’t get carried away. Don’t be stupid again.

“He’s your boss. Your client. Not your…”

She swallowed the rest.

No need to say it out loud.

Still, she grabbed her bag and headed to work in Mayfair.

The building’s lobby buzzed with activity, but it felt… off.

Quieter.

Too quiet.

Her steps quickened as she approached Roy’s office floor. For reasons she refused to admit, her pulse spiked with anticipation.

Just as she reached her desk space, Tessa intercepted her.

“Good morning, Ms. Blake.” Tessa smiled politely, holding her tablet. Then she paused. “Oh—and before I forget, Mr. Sinclair isn’t coming in today.”

Dianne’s heart dropped.

“Oh.” She swallowed. “Is he… alright?”

Tessa shrugged lightly. “He called in sick. Sounded horrible, to be honest.”

Dianne forced a smile, but her stomach clenched painfully.

“Right… thank you.”

She walked to her office, shut the door, and leaned against it.

Why does this bother me so much? Why do I care?

She rubbed her temples.

He’s sick. So what? People get sick.

But her heart refused logic.

He’s sick? He sounded horrible?

Her mind kept replaying those words.

She tried to work—but every time she typed a sentence, her thoughts drifted back to Roy.

After ten minutes of failed attempts to work, she caved.

She grabbed her phone and called.

He answered on the third ring.

“Hello…?”

His voice was raw. Tired. Weak.

Her chest tightened painfully.

“You don’t sound good,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

There was a soft exhale on the other end.

“You always know how to make a man feel attractive,” he rasped.

“Roy, I’m serious. Are you okay?”

“I’ll survive,” he said lightly. But she heard the strain.

Something inside her snapped.

“I’m coming over.”

He instantly objected.

“Dianne—no. You don’t have to do—”

But she cut the call, grabbed her coat, and left.

Roy opened the penthouse door slowly, leaning against the frame.

He looked… different.

Not polished. Not arrogant. Not intimidating.

Human.

His dark hair was messy, his eyes tired, his voice rough as gravel.

Her chest warmed despite herself.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he murmured.

She pushed past him. “Clearly, I should have. You look horrible.”

A weak smile curved his lips.

“You’re brutal.”

“Sit,” she ordered.

And he did.

She went straight to work—checking his temperature, fetching meds, rummaging through his kitchen for ingredients. She cooked soup with movements that felt natural, almost intimate.

Roy watched her from the bar stool, elbows on the counter, eyes soft and unreadable.

“You’re… really something,” he finally whispered.

She stiffened.

“Eat your soup,” she muttered.

He laughed—just a quiet, warm sound.

The kind she hadn’t heard from him before.

They spent hours together—talking softly, sharing quiet moments, exchanging glances that lingered too long. Dianne pretended not to notice how his gaze kept drifting to her lips.

By evening, she stood to leave.

“I should go,” she said, adjusting her coat.

His face fell—open, vulnerable.

“Oh… yeah. Of course.”

She took two steps toward the door before he stopped her with her name.

“Dianne.”

She turned slowly.

Roy swallowed hard, his jaw tight, eyes locked onto hers with a rawness she’d never seen.

“I like you.”

Her breath froze.

“Geez…” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I like you so much.”

Her heart thundered painfully.

“You’ve made me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time,” he continued, stepping closer. “You’ve cracked something open in me—and I don’t know how to shut it anymore.”

She didn’t move.

She couldn’t.

“I know we met on the worst possible foot,” he said. “But I want to fix things. I want to make them right. And I…” He exhaled shakily. “I just needed to say it. I couldn’t hold it back anymore.”

Silence stretched between them.

“It’s okay if you don’t have anything to say,” he murmured, stepping back. “I totally understand.”

He reached for his keys.

“Let me… drop you home.”

Dianne was numb.

Her mind was screaming, spinning, scattering in a thousand directions.

She followed him silently to the car.

And Roy, who had just confessed something bigger than either of them expected, drove her home with a heaviness she could feel in the air.

Her fingers twitched in her lap.

His jaw clenched and unclenched as he tried—unsuccessfully—to keep his emotions in check.

When they arrived, she stepped out slowly, unsure of her own voice.

“Goodnight,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Dianne,” he replied softly.

The door clicked shut.

Inside her apartment, she sank onto her sofa, hands trembling.

Her mind replayed his words in a loop.

I like you. I like you too much.

You’ve opened something in me.

I want to make things right.

Her stomach twisted with something sweet, dangerous, and overwhelming.

Dianne paced her living room, bare feet dragging across the rug, her chest tight with emotions she couldn’t untangle.

She hit Maya’s name and pressed the phone to her ear.

It rang twice.

“Dee?” Maya’s voice was warm, concerned. “It’s late. What’s wrong?”

Dianne inhaled shakily, her throat tightening.

“Maya… something happened. Something big.”

“What is it?” Maya’s tone sharpened instantly. “Talk to me.”

Dianne ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the strands.

“It’s Roy.”

Silence.

Then a slow, knowing exhale.

“Oh no. Not this. Don’t tell me—”

“He said he likes me,” Dianne whispered.

Maya went quiet for a moment too long.

“Dee… you’re joking, right?”

“I wish I was,” Dianne muttered, sinking onto the arm of her sofa. “He told me—exact words—‘I like you too much.’ He said I opened something in him. He said he wants to make things right. Maya… he was serious.”

Maya groaned. “God, Dianne…”

Dianne frowned. “Why do you sound like that?”

“Because it’s Roy Sinclair!” Maya nearly snapped. “Dee, that man is not… simple. He’s powerful, he’s intense, he’s unpredictable. And after everything you’ve gone through with Damian, you can’t jump into something like this!”

Dianne covered her face.

“I’m not jumping. I just… don’t know how to feel. He was sick today. I went over. I cooked for him. I stayed with him for hours. And when I left, he just… he confessed out of nowhere.”

“And how did you feel when he said it?” Maya asked softly, the judgment melting into genuine worry.

Dianne hesitated.

Her voice dropped to a fragile whisper.

“I felt… warm. And scared. And confused. And… safe.”

Maya sighed long and deep.

“Dee… sweetheart… I know you. You’re soft where you shouldn’t be. And men like Roy? They know how to take advantage of that softness—even if they don’t mean to.”

Dianne shook her head, though Maya couldn’t see it.

“It didn’t feel like that. It felt… real. Too real. And that’s what scared me.”

“Exactly.” Maya’s voice was firmer now. “You’re vulnerable, Dee. You’re healing. Everything with Damian is still fresh. And this Roy guy…”

She paused.

“He’s your boss. Your client. He has influence over your job, your income, your stability. It’s more than just feelings. There are consequences.”

Dianne swallowed.

“I know. Trust me, I keep telling myself the same thing.”

“So listen to that voice,” Maya urged. “Be careful. Set boundaries. Don’t get swept away by charm and loneliness.”

Dianne looked down at her trembling hands.

“But Maya… what if this is different?”

“Then he’ll wait,” Maya replied simply. “If he’s genuine, he’ll be patient. If he’s not, he’ll show his true colors.”

Dianne nodded weakly.

“I just… I don’t want to mess things up again.”

Maya’s tone softened into something older-sisterly and gentle.

“Hey… look at me—well, imagine me looking at you.”

A tiny laugh escaped Dianne.

“You’ve survived worse,” Maya continued. “You’re strong. And you don’t need Roy Sinclair to validate that. Keep your head steady. And don’t give him more power than he already has.”

Dianne exhaled shakily.

“You’re right.”

“I usually am,” Maya said lightly. “Now breathe. And sleep. We’ll figure this out.”

“Okay… Goodnight, Maya.”

“Goodnight, Dee. And please—take care of your heart.”

The call ended.

Dianne lowered the phone slowly, her chest full, her eyes glassy with emotion.

She barely had time to inhale before the phone rang again.

Roy.

Her heartbeat jolted sharply.

She stared at the screen for three seconds before answering.

“Dianne…” His voice was soft, hoarse, intimate in a way that rattled her bones. “I know it’s late. But I—I had to call.”

She froze.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured. “About today. About everything.”

Her breath hitched.

“It’s okay if you don’t want anything right now,” he continued, voice low and raw. “It’s okay if you’re confused. I get it. I just…”

He exhaled.

“I don’t want you to shut me out. Let me try… even if you’re not ready to try with me.”

Her grip tightened on the phone.

“Roy…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Yeah?”

But she didn’t know what to say.

She didn’t know what she wanted.

She only knew that her heart wasn’t calm—because he had shaken it loose.