Chapter 53 Don't Call Me Again
I opened my eyes and reached for my phone, squinting at the screen. Ethan's name flashed across it.
"Hello? Are you here?" I managed, struggling to sit up.
Ethan's voice came through clearly, just outside my door. "I'm here. Open up."
The sound of his voice so close jolted me fully awake. I tossed my phone aside and scrambled out of bed, not even bothering with slippers. My legs felt like jelly beneath me as I stumbled to the door, my fever making the short distance feel like miles.
When I pulled the door open and saw Ethan standing there in a tailored overcoat, his face etched with concern, something inside me broke. Two days of hurt, fever, and loneliness collapsed into a single moment of vulnerability.
"Ethan," I whispered, throwing myself against his chest and wrapping my arms around him. My face pressed into his collar as tears spilled down my cheeks. "I've missed you so much."
Ethan immediately wrapped his arms around me, one hand cradling the back of my head. Without a word, he lifted me up and carried me back to the bed, setting me down gently.
"Jesus, Liv," he said, shrugging off his coat before sitting on the edge of the mattress. His palm came to rest on my forehead. "You're burning up like a furnace."
His voice was tight with concern as he pulled out his phone and dialed. "Dr. Morgan?"
While he arranged medications with the doctor, I lay there watching him work—preparing pills, pouring water, adjusting the air conditioning temperature. There was something mesmerizing about his competence, the way he took control of a situation without hesitation.
He helped me sit up, his arm strong behind my back. "Take these. All of them," he instructed, holding pills to my lips with surprising gentleness. "Good girl."
I swallowed them with difficulty, my throat feeling like sandpaper. When I tried to lie back down, his hand stopped me.
"Finish this water first. You're dehydrated."
As I sipped the water, tears suddenly welled up again, spilling down my cheeks before I could stop them. Ethan paused, uncertainty flickering across his usually confident face.
"What's wrong? Is the pain that bad?"
I shook my head, but the tears came faster.
After a moment's hesitation, Ethan pulled me against his chest, his hand moving in slow circles on my back.
"It's okay," he murmured against my hair. "I'm here now."
I clung to his shirt, letting myself be comforted. When my sobbing finally subsided, he gently pulled away to look at my face.
"We're going to the hospital. Now. You need proper tests."
I clutched at his arm. "I can barely stand."
Ethan stood and retrieved fresh clothes from my suitcase. "I'll help you."
His attempts to dress me were awkward and clumsy, his normally sure hands suddenly hesitant. He tugged my arm through a sleeve at an uncomfortable angle, making me wince.
"Ow, that hurts," I complained, pushing his hands away. "I can do it myself." Then added with a weak attempt at humor, "You're much better at taking clothes off than putting them on."
"True," he agreed simply.
I shot him a reproachful look, then quickly dressed myself despite my shaking hands.
Ethan carried me out of the motel. A sleek black Cadillac was waiting outside, a driver holding the door open.
At the hospital, Ethan bypassed the regular intake procedures completely. Within minutes, I was in a private examination room with a doctor running tests while nurses bustled around efficiently.
Dawn broke as we finished at the hospital. Instead of returning to my motel, Ethan carried me to the car and we headed to the oceanfront.
"Where are we going?" I asked weakly.
"Somewhere decent," he replied dismissively.
We arrived at The Oceanview Suites, Pacifica's most luxurious hotel, where the manager escorted us directly to the presidential suite.
"This is excessive, Ethan. I'm just sick," I said, looking at the opulent room with its ocean views.
Ethan removed his jacket, his expression leaving no room for argument. "You need a proper environment to recover. Lie down and rest." He paused, studying my face. "You said you sent that message by mistake. Who were you trying to reach?"
Before I could answer, my phone rang. The unfamiliar number made my heart lurch, a knot of dread forming instantly in my stomach.
Ethan's lips curved into a cold smile. "Answer it."
I hesitated, my finger hovering over the decline button. Ethan took the phone from my trembling hand and pressed accept, putting it on speaker.
"Hello, Olivia? It's me, Blake. I heard you were back home? Is everything okay?"
I felt like dying right there. I closed my eyes briefly, wishing I could just pass out, but frustratingly, my fever-addled brain chose this moment for perfect clarity.
When Blake didn't hear my response, he continued, "Olivia? What's wrong? Why aren't you speaking?"
Under Ethan's icy stare, I swallowed hard and forced myself to speak. "Blake, please stop calling me. I'm with your uncle Ethan now. I'm his girlfriend."
"Olivia, I know he's forcing you," Blake insisted. "You don't really like him, you—"
"Blake, stop making things up! I'm with Ethan because I want to be. He never forced me. I care about him deeply, or I wouldn't be... intimate with him." My cheeks burned with humiliation. "I'm his now, and unless he doesn't want me anymore, I won't leave him. Don't call me again!"
I hung up quickly, my heart pounding.
"Ethan, I never contacted Blake—" I began desperately, but Ethan's phone interrupted my explanation with a sharp ring.
He raised his hand slightly to silence me.
"What is it?" His tone was cold.
I could hear the authoritative male voice on the other end clearly. "Where are you?"
Ethan's jaw tightened. "If you have something to say, just say it."
"Did you forget? I told you to come back to Beverly Hills today." The voice sounded exasperated. "Victoria Pearson is waiting at the house for you."
"You can entertain her," Ethan replied dismissively.
The man on the phone—who I now realized must be Richard Bennett, Ethan's father—spoke with practiced patience. "Thomas is expected to be appointed Deputy Secretary of Energy next year. Those renewable energy projects you're developing... if you and Victoria..."
"What if something happened to him?" Ethan interrupted.
There was a stunned pause before Richard responded. "What nonsense are you talking? The Pearson family has deep political connections in Washington. Three generations of senators. Even with our influence in California, we can't match their weight in Washington circles."
"That's exactly why the tree needs pruning," Ethan replied coldly.
Richard's voice hardened. "Ethan, stop being childish. You're nearly thirty. You need to understand what's appropriate and what isn't. If you're interested in that college girl, fine, have your fun. But don't throw away your future over a temporary infatuation. If you reject an alliance with the Pearsons for some nobody, neither I nor the family will support you. You'll regret it yourself eventually."
Ethan's jaw clenched tight, a vein visibly pulsing at his temple as he controlled his anger. "I'm in Northern California. I can't get back right now."
"Then give me a specific time. When will you return?" Richard pressed.
Ethan's knuckles turned white as he gripped the phone. After a tense moment, he replied, "The day after tomorrow."
Richard's tone softened with satisfaction. "Good. You must attend the dinner that evening. I'll arrange for Victoria to be there."