Chapter ten

Chloe’s POV

“Michael!” I rushed toward his bed, my heart pounding against my chest. “Michael, wake up!”

He was shaking uncontrollably, his hands gripping the bedsheets tightly as though he was fighting something in his sleep. I had never seen him like this.

“Michael!” I called again, touching his shoulder. But he didn’t respond. His eyebrows were drawn together, and sweat covered his forehead. “No… please…” he mumbled.

I froze.

What? “Michael, can you hear me?” I shook him gently, hoping he would open his eyes, but he only turned his head from side to side. “Don’t… don’t…” My stomach twisted.

What the hell was happening to him? I placed my palm against his forehead, and my eyes widened. “Oh my God!” His body was burning.

He was so hot that I immediately pulled my hand away. “Michael, you’re burning up!” Panic rushed through me. Was he sick? Was he having a fever? Or was this something else?

I looked toward the door. I needed to call someone. Maybe Grandma. Or one of the maids. I quickly stood up, but before I could take another step, his trembling voice stopped me.

“Please…” I turned. His eyes were still tightly shut. “Please don’t leave me.” My heart dropped. “Michael?” “Please… don’t leave me. Please…” His voice cracked. I stood there, unable to move. Was this really Michael?

The same cold, arrogant man who barely spoke to me without sounding irritated? The same man who always looked at me like I was nothing but a burden? He sounded completely different.

Broken, Afraid. “Please don’t leave me,” he whispered again. Something inside my chest tightened. I slowly returned to his bedside. “Michael, I’m here.” He continued shaking.

“Don’t go…” “I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered. I sat beside him and carefully wrapped my arms around his trembling body. “It’s okay. I’m here.” His head rested against my chest.

For a moment, I didn’t know what else to do. I had never comforted a grown man before, especially not someone like Michael. But seeing him like this scared me. What could possibly make a man like him so terrified?

“Shhh,” I whispered, gently rubbing his back. “You’re okay, Michael. Whatever it is, it’s just a nightmare.” His breathing remained uneven. I tightened my arms around him. “I’m right here.” Minutes passed.

Slowly, his trembling began to stop. His breathing became steadier, and the tension in his shoulders gradually disappeared. I sighed in relief. “That’s it,” I whispered. “Just relax.”

I reached for the handkerchief lying beside his pillow and gently wiped the sweat from his forehead. He looked exhausted.

I wanted to get him some water, but every time I tried to move, his fingers tightened around my nightgown. So I stayed.

Holding him. Comforting him.

Until his breathing finally became peaceful. I looked down at him. Who would have imagined that Michael, the man everyone feared, could look this vulnerable? I wondered what he had been dreaming about.

Was it something from his past? Something painful? I wanted to know. But I knew he would never tell me. Not willingly.

I leaned against the headboard, still holding him. “You’re really something else, Michael,” I whispered. Then, without realizing it, I closed my eyes.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, warming my face. I slowly opened my eyes. For a moment, I couldn’t remember where I was.

Then I looked down. Oh, my God. Michael was sleeping on my lap!

His head rested comfortably against my thighs, one hand lying loosely beside him. I blinked several times. How did we end up like this?

Then everything came rushing back. The nightmare. His trembling body. His desperate pleas. I sighed.

At least he looked peaceful now. I studied his face. His dark hair was slightly messy, with a few strands falling across his forehead. Without thinking, I reached out and gently brushed them aside. He really had beautiful hair.

Thick, dark, and ridiculously soft-looking. My eyes moved to his eyebrows. Perfectly shaped. Then his nose. Sharp and straight. And those lips… I swallowed. Why did this man have to be so annoyingly handsome?

Even while sleeping, he looked like someone who belonged on the cover of a magazine. I almost laughed at myself.

But I couldn’t help it. And his eyes… Those beautiful, intimidating eyes. Whenever he looked at me, I always felt like he could see straight through my thoughts. I wondered what they would look like if he ever smiled genuinely.

Not that annoying smirk he always wore. A real smile. Suddenly, his eyelashes fluttered. Oh no. Before I could move, his eyes opened. For two seconds, we stared at each other.

Then he abruptly lifted his head. “What the hell?” I jolted. He sat upright, looking from me to the bed. His expression hardened.

“What are you doing here?” I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. “Chloe, I asked you a question.” I swallowed. “You were—” “Why are you in my room?” His voice was sharp.

I frowned. Seriously? After everything that happened last night? “Good morning to you too,” I muttered. He ran a hand through his hair. “Explain yourself.”

I folded my arms. “You were having a nightmare.” He froze. “What?” “Last night. You were shaking and calling out in your sleep.” His jaw tightened.

“I don’t have nightmares.” I stared at him. “Well, apparently, you do.” His eyes narrowed. “Chloe.”

“Michael, you were burning up. I tried waking you, but you wouldn’t respond.” He looked away. I hesitated before asking quietly, “What happened to you?” “Nothing.”

“Then why were you begging someone not to leave you?” His entire body went rigid. I noticed his fingers curling into fists. “Who were you dreaming about?” “That’s none of your business.”

“Michael, I was only trying to—” Ding! His phone suddenly lit up on the bedside table. He glanced at it. Then immediately reached for it.

I watched as he opened a message. There was a video attached. He pressed play. For the next two minutes, he remained completely silent. I couldn’t see what was playing, but whatever it was made his expression change. His jaw clenched.

His breathing grew heavier. Then his eyes slowly lifted toward me. And I froze. The man who had been trembling helplessly in my arms hours ago was gone. In his place sat someone whose eyes burned with terrifying rage. “Michael?” I whispered.

He stood up. “Get out.” I blinked. “What?” His fingers tightened around the phone. “I SAID, GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”