Chapter 34
Claire's POV
The morning light crept through the blinds of my apartment at Queen Anne Heights, casting thin, pale streaks across the room. My body felt like it had been dragged through hell—the fever that had gripped me for the past day hadn't broken yet, and every muscle ached with a vengeance. I stirred under the tangled sheets, the events of last night with Daniel replaying in my foggy mind. Despite my illness, we'd crossed a line I never thought we would. His weight, his heat, the way he'd filled me—it lingered like a fever dream, blurring the edges between what my illness had conjured and what had actually happened.
A familiar cramp twisted low in my belly, adding to my misery. I groaned softly, pressing a hand to my abdomen. Of course, my period decided to show up right on time, just to make everything worse.
Daniel was still beside me, propped on one elbow, his blue-gray eyes sharp with concern as they scanned my face. His brow furrowed, and I could tell he was assessing how the fever had progressed overnight. "Claire, you okay?" His voice was rough, like he hadn't slept much, his hand hovering near my shoulder, unsure whether to touch me.
I shifted, wincing as another cramp hit. "Yeah, just... my period decided to join the party along with this fever." My words came out weaker than I wanted, but I forced a dry laugh. "Don't worry... The timing... it should be fine." I wasn't entirely convinced of that myself—was any day truly "safe" given what we'd done?—but saying it out loud felt like reclaiming some control over the situation that had spiraled so far beyond my usual boundaries.
His jaw tightened, and I saw a flicker of relief in his eyes, but it didn't erase the worry. "You're still burning up. You shouldn't have let things go so far last night." He sat up, the sheets sliding off his broad shoulders. His tone wasn't accusing, but it stung anyway. I hated being seen like this—weak, messy, human.
I dragged myself upright, ignoring the dizziness that made the room spin. "I'm fine. The fever will break soon." My voice sounded hollow even to me. I reached for my phone on the nightstand, my fingers shaky as I dialed Emily, my assistant. "Hey, Em, I'm out today. Still feeling under the weather. Push my meetings to tomorrow and keep me updated on the Stanton Group reports. Email me if anything urgent pops up." I kept it short, my energy draining with every word.
After hanging up, I glanced at Daniel, who was still watching me like I might keel over any second. The vulnerability of the moment hit me hard—he'd seen me at my weakest, not just physically ill but emotionally exposed. Last night, in my fever-induced haze, I'd let down walls that had taken years to build. The realization sent a wave of panic through me. This wasn't who Claire Stanton was supposed to be. I couldn't let this continue, couldn't let him think this changed anything.
"You can go now," I said, my tone flat, avoiding his gaze. "The door locks automatically. I'll be okay." My chest tightened as I spoke, a weird unease settling in. I was doing what I always did—pushing away anyone who got too close—but something felt different this time, like I was tearing at something vital.
Daniel didn't budge. His eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms, the muscles in his forearms flexing. "I'm not leaving you like this, Claire. You can barely sit up straight." His voice was firm, no room for argument. He grabbed his own phone from the bedside table, punching in a number. "Hey, Paul, I'm taking the day off. Personal matter. Yeah, I'll check in later." He paused, then dialed another number. "Mr. Reynolds, it's Daniel. I need to take a day—something came up. I'll coordinate with the team for Victoria's security." I heard a muffled, cheerful response on the other end—Robert Reynolds, always so damn accommodating with him, probably asking after his health with that fake warmth. It was a stark contrast to the cold calculations of my own family. Stanton kids begged for scraps of approval; Reynolds just handed them out like candy.
I raised an eyebrow, my voice sharp despite the ache in my throat. "Didn't you quit already? Why are you even asking for a day off?" My words cut through the quiet room, and I saw his shoulders stiffen.
Daniel set the phone down, his gaze meeting mine, heavy with something I couldn't quite read. "I didn't quit completely. Paul converted my resignation into a leave of absence, but the official request still needs to be filed." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away for a second before his eyes snapped back to mine. "I lied to you yesterday. I'm sorry."
"You!" I snapped, anger flaring hot in my chest despite the chills running down my spine. "A liar, huh? I don't even want to deal with you right now." I turned my face away, my hands clenching the sheets. I wanted to scream at him, but my body wouldn't let me. The betrayal stung more than I expected. He'd played me, even if it was just to avoid a fight.
Daniel's face softened, but I didn't care. I glared at the wall, my voice icy. "Just go." I reached for the bottle of ibuprofen on the nightstand, ready to pop a couple dry, anything to dull the pain tearing through me.