Her Secrets

Adrian's POV 

“Mrs Kingsley!” I heard the air hostess scream her name.

I turned back and there she was, free falling to the plush carpet. In no time, I caught her before she hit the floor.

One second she was walking toward the back of the cabin, the next her knees buckled and she dropped against my arm, her head falling back, her face drained of every drop of color it had.

"Victoria." Nothing. "Victoria!"

The hostess came running with her hand pressed to her chest. "Is she—"

"Go get a doctor. Now!"

"We have a flight physician on ground for exactly this, sir, I'll radio him—"

"You should be doing that already instead of standing there, making silly explanations!"

I lowered her into the nearest seat and propped her head against the cushion. “Victoria?”

With two fingers placed against her wrist, I could feel her pulse. It was getting weak but it was still there. Okay, at least.

The physician arrived in two minutes, a smallish man with a worn leather bag and no interest in my harsh tone. 

He took her blood pressure first, watched the dial drop into a number that made his frown deepen, then checked her pulse, her pupils, the color under her nails.

"Ninety over fifty-five," he said. "Has she eaten today?"

"I don't know."

"Slept?"

I shook my head. "I don't know that either."

He must have known we were a newly wed couple. Victoria barely had the time to change out of her white reception dress before we drove to the airport. If he thought it strange that I knew nothing about the wellbeing of the woman I'd just married hours ago, he didn't show it. 

He reached into the bag, prepped a vial and a syringe with no hurry at all.

"Glucose, a fluid push, and plenty rest. Her body's running on stress instead of food, and it just shut down for a few minutes to protect her." He found a vein in her arm without much trouble. "Give it a few minutes."

I just stood there watching the whole process, feeling helpless. 

Slowly, she came back to consciousness. Her eyelashes moved first. Then a frown crossed her features, before her eyes even opened. 

She seemed annoyed. 

"What happened?"

"You fainted."

She looked at the bandage taped over the inside of her elbow, at the doctor packing his bag, at me standing over her, and went very still.

"I fainted," she said again, saying it twice like she didn't hear me right the first time.

“How do you feel, Mrs Kingsley?” 

Already trying to sit up, she started, “How do I feel? I feel fine. I'm okay. I can't believe I just fainted—”

This stubborn woman…

“Lay back, Victoria. Listen for once. According to the doctor, you need to—”

"Hey, don't speak to my patient like that.” The doctor turned back to Victoria. “You just need to rest, Mrs Kingsley. Your blood pressure is low, your blood sugar level is also low and you're exhausted."

The doctor straightened, looking back at me with a scowl on his face. "She needs food, water, and sleep. And no raised voices please. I don't even think you should be close to her, it seems you add to her stress levels."

“He definitely does,” Victoria whispered.

“Please, take good care of yourself, Mrs Kingsley. You have the air hostess at your beck and call. I'll still come around for regular check ups.”

With that he turned to leave.

I watched him walk away. The nerve of this man. Does he even know whose private jet he's flying with? With just one call, I could make his license useless.

“If eyes could kill.”

“Did you say something?”

“Yeah, I did. Why are you shooting daggers at him with your eyes? You can't stand the fact that he stood up to you right?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I decide to marry and this is who I end up with?

"Why didn't you eat anything," I asked.

"I had water at the reception."

"Water isn't food."

"I'm well aware of that, Mr. Adrian Kingsley."

"You collapsed, Mrs Victoria Kingsley. On a plane. At altitude."

"I'm aware of that too. Why are you making it a big deal? Like you care." 

She pushed herself straighter, winced at the bandage and glared up at me with color already returning to her face. "Forgive me for skipping breakfast on the day I got married to a man I'd never spoken to, flown across an ocean, and only just learned about a honeymoon planned that nobody mentioned to me beforehand."

"You could have said something. There were at least fifty people at that reception to take care of your meals. I also know you were at The Venetian. You could've ordered room service. If you couldn't do that, then you would have spoken to somebody."

"Spoken to who? You? Richard? My make up artists? My stylists?" Her eyes were sharp again, none of the fog left in them. "What would I have said? Oh, can you guys feed me? In about five hours, I'll be fainting in my husband's private jet on our way to our honeymoon.”

She said my husband with much emphasis.

“And magically, my appetite would materialise out of thin air and I'll eat heavily to my satisfaction.” She paused to breathe for two seconds. “If you must know, fainting doesn't usually come with advance notice, Mr Adrian Kingsley."

"It does when you ignore your own body long enough."

"Noted. I'll file a report next time before I collapse."

I should have stayed angry. I was angry. But there was a particular satisfaction in watching her argue with me two minutes after nearly cracking her skull on the cabin floor, at least the fight was proof that her body wasn't shutting down completely.

She was easily the most infuriating woman I'd ever met in my life. And she had a comeback for every single word. 

"Eat," I said. "Before we land. And stop calling out my full name."

"Or what, Mr Adrian Kingsley?"

Jesus Christ. I just might strangle this woman to death.

The hostess returned with a tray of food, it had soup, bread, fruit cut into smaller pieces, glucose and water.  

Victoria ate slowly at first, then faster, color climbing into her face and life returning to her eyes with every spoonful. She was really hungry. I watched her as she cleared the plates with relief I didn't bother disguising myself.

We landed two hours later. 

Paris as always looked very beautiful.

“Wowwww, look at all the lights, the buildings, the magic in the air…photos don't do this place justice at all. It's so breathtaking!”

Victoria's mouth hung open as she took in all the beauty of Paris. She seemed very fascinated.

The way she was reacting… “You've never been to Paris before?”

“No, I haven't. No,no, no, I…I…have. I have. But it was a short trip. A long time ago. And I…I haven't been here. Since. Then.

She stammered terribly, refusing to look at my eyes.

I didn't know what to make of that. Because it was just impossible that Victoria Hale had never been to Paris.

The car to the hotel was quiet for the rest of the ride. She visibly tried to contain her excitement even though everything was still fascinating. 

A few minutes later, she fell asleep and hung her head on the window. All that fighting and back and forth with me, no wonder she's tired. 

At the hotel, staff lined the entrance with the same rehearsed warmth as the wedding, they welcomed us in grand style.

I got the key card for our suite and held Victoria's hand as we made our way to our floor.

She straightened the moment we crossed the lobby, slipping back into the same composed posture she'd worn at the altar, like the last few hours hadn't happened at all.

The concierge intercepted us before the elevator.

"Mr. Kingsley." He held a folded, cream coloured envelope, no postage. "This arrived for your wife an hour ago. Hand delivered."

Victoria took it without much thought, probably expecting a goodwill note from a friend. 

I watched her open it in the elevator, her eyes moving across a handful of lines, then every bit of color the soup had put back into her face drained back out.

"What is it," I asked

She didn't answer right away. Her hand had gone tight around the paper, her knuckles pale, the same way they'd been gripping the armrest in the plane.

"Victoria."

She folded the note fast and slipped it back into the envelope. "It's nothing." 

It was very clearly not nothing.

The elevator doors opened onto our floor, and she stepped out first, the envelope already disappearing into her clutch.

"Who sent that," I asked again.

She didn't look at me. "Can we just get to the room, Adrian?”