Chapter 231: I Won't Leave Without His Say-So
Chapter 231: I Won't Leave Without His Say-So
Alexander’s POV
I clutched the toilet bowl like it was my last goddamn anchor, hurling up what felt like my entire soul into the porcelain abyss.
Fuck. Not now.
My gut twisted again, a vicious rebellion against every sip of booze I'd forced down. Each heave was like a blade carving me from the inside out. The doc had drilled it into me today while jabbing those IVs into my arm—no alcohol, period. But how the hell was I supposed to sit back while Nora drowned her spite in champagne, just to stick it to me?
When the retching finally eased, I slumped against the stall wall, the cool tile a mercy against my feverish forehead. I yanked at my tie, feeling it choke the life out of me, and staggered to the sink. The mirror showed a ghost—pale as death, eyes rimmed red, hair slick with sweat. I raked it back, straightened my jacket, and sucked in a shaky breath.
I reached for the door, but it burst open, nearly clocking me in the face. Instinct kicked in; I grabbed the intruder, steadying slim shoulders before they bowled me over. Wide, worried brown eyes locked onto mine.
"Alexander!" Nora gasped, her voice bouncing off the men's room tiles. "I've been searching everywhere for you!"
I shot a quick glance around—guys at the urinals staring like we'd just dropped a bomb. Fan-fucking-tastic.
"What the hell are you doing in here?" I hissed, hustling her out before we turned into a tabloid headline.
"You look like shit," she accused, scanning my face like a detective. "Why didn't you tell me about your stomach issues?"
"None of your damn business," I snapped, steering her to a quieter spot in the restaurant hallway.
"None of my business?" She scoffed, volume cranking up. "You're a lying bastard. When did that happen? You're barely standing!"
I leaned against the wall, playing it cool to hide how much I needed the support. "I'm fine. Let's get back to the table—the contract's waiting."
"Contract? You're joking, right?" She closed in, her perfume hitting me like a drug. "You're in no shape for that."
"Nora—"
"Don't you get it?" she cut in, eyes blazing with fury—and was that concern? "You pulled this stunt because you didn't want me drinking. Why risk your health like an idiot?"
The fight leaked out of me like air from a punctured tire. Maybe it was the pain or the meds fading, but the walls crumbled.
"Nora," I sighed, dragging a hand through my hair. "I know you're pissed. You should hate me for everything I've done. It's all on me."
She blinked, thrown off by the shift.
"You can push back, fight me, demand the impossible—I'll take it," I pressed on, words tumbling free. "But I won't watch you self-destruct just to prove a point."
"Alexander..."
"I'm sorry," I murmured, brushing a stray hair from her face. "Nora, I'm so damn sorry. I—"
I love you. The words burned on my tongue, but I choked them back. Not here. Not like this. "I'm sorry," I repeated instead.
To my shock, tears flooded her eyes, streaking down her cheeks. I'd faced her anger a hundred times, but this? This vulnerability hit like a sucker punch.
"Nora, don't—" I started, but she launched herself at me, face burying into my chest.
"You idiot!" she sobbed, fists thumping my shoulders weakly. "You stubborn asshole! Do you know how scared I was when Blake said you should be in bed, not killing yourself with booze?!"
I froze, arms dangling like dead weight, totally out of my depth.
"Don't just stand there," she sniffled, grabbing my hands and planting them on her waist. "Hold me right, damn it."
Hesitantly, I wrapped her up, pulling her close. It felt like slipping into a forgotten dream—warm, familiar, and dangerously addictive.
"Is this our marriage?" she mumbled into my shirt. "Cold bullshit interrupted by your near-death episodes?"
I almost chuckled at the mess of it. "Wasn't exactly aiming for a puke-fest finale tonight."
She pulled back, wiping her eyes. "Let me see your arm."
"What?"
"Your arm," she demanded, firmer now.
"That's not—"
But she was already shoving up my sleeve, gasping at the jagged pink scar snaking from my wrist halfway up my forearm—a fresh reminder of that hellish month ago. "Oh God," she whispered, tears flowing anew. "This isn't 'nothing,' Alexander. It looks like someone tried to carve you open. And the one near your heart? From the accident. Show me."
"Nora, please."
"No," she snapped, voice turning to steel. "No more dodging. We're going to the hospital. Now."
"That's overkill—"
"I swear, if you say 'I'm fine' again, I'll scream loud enough to summon every reporter in Kingsley City," she threatened, eyes like daggers. "You coming quietly, or do I make a scene?"
That look? Unbeatable. I was done.
"Fine," I muttered.
---
The doc eyed us with a smirk as he prepped the IV. "Mr. Claflin, when I said no alcohol, I meant no alcohol. Champagne counts."
"Just fix him," Nora barked, hovering like a mama bear on steroids.
"Yes, ma'am," he chuckled, sliding the needle in. "Prescribed meds for the inflammation—three times a day, with food."
Nora snatched the script. "I'll handle it."
I opened my mouth to argue, but her glare could melt steel.
Once he left, she shoved pills and water at me. "Open up."
"I can manage my own damn meds," I grumbled.
"Clearly not, Mr. Invincible," she shot back, pressing them into my hand. "Swallow, or I'll make you."
I downed them, a weird warmth spreading from her fierce care. "Satisfied?"
"Not even close," she said, perching beside me. "Now, the chest scar. Show me."
"Nora—"
A nurse bustled in to check the IV, cutting the tension like a knife. Nora eased back, but her eyes screamed this isn't over.
As the drugs kicked in, my lids drooped. Through the fog, her voice floated, soft and raw.
"You know what's insane?" she whispered, thinking I was out. "I hate what you did to me. But I can't hate you. And that terrifies me."
I wanted to tell her I was just as twisted up inside, but sleep dragged me under.
---
I jolted awake, disoriented in the sunlight filtering through my bedroom curtains at Claflin Estate.
Shit. The Lunora contract signing was at 10:00. I bolted up, wincing at the dull ache in my gut—better than last night, but still a reminder.
Voices floated from downstairs. I crept to the hallway, freezing at the top step when I heard Nora.
"Keep the porridge warm but not scalding," she directed Blake. "Tea lukewarm—no steam. Doc said his stomach's still raw."
"Yes, Mrs. Claflin," Blake replied. "Heading to the office with him after the signing?"
A beat of silence. "I'm not going anywhere unless Alexander tells me to."
"Glad to hear it, ma'am," Blake said warmly. "It's been good having you around. Did you know he keeps a photo of you and Aiden in his study? Catches him staring at it late nights, like he doesn't think I notice."
My jaw tightened. Traitor, Blake.
I slipped back, dressed fast, and headed down, making noise to warn them. At the bottom, Nora was there, palm pressing my forehead.
"Fever's gone," she noted, pleased. "Feeling better?"
"Yeah," I admitted, oddly grateful. "Thanks for... everything last night."
She studied me, face a mask. "You're welcome. Breakfast's ready."
In the dining room, plain porridge and toast waited—her orders, no doubt. I sat, watching her claim the opposite chair.
"Nora," I started, stirring the bland mush. "After the signing, you heading back to Highcrest City?"
Her eyes met mine, loaded with unspoken storms. "Do you want me to?"