A Valentine for His Secretary (His Secretary: Undone) by Melanie Marchande
Book: A Valentine for His Secretary (His Secretary: Undone) by Melanie Marchande
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Authors: Melanie Marchande
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February 2nd
I have a cold.
This time last year, I was looking at at a gray, dripping morning, fantasizing about a blizzard that would trap me inside and away from work. More specifically, away from Adrian.
But it was thirty-four degrees and raining. Cold enough to be miserable, but not cold enough for snow. I hadn't taken a sick day in three years, but I still couldn't justify lying. Not when he needed me so much.
Twelve months later, and I actually am sick. Lately, it's felt like all of the illnesses that I once kept at bay through sheer will power have finally caught up with me.
I roll over in bed when I hear the door creak open, ever so slightly.
"You're awake," Adrian says, sounding surprised.
"I've been awake," I grumble, pulling the covers back over my head. "Just didn't feel like moving."
"Well, I've got some tea. Drink it while it's hot." He sits down on the edge of the bed, letting his hand rest on my hip like a comforting anchor.
I pull down the sheets just enough to eye him suspiciously. "Why are you being so nice?"
"Because I've sustained massive head trauma. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth." He smiles a little. "How are you feeling?"
"Exhausted." I think about pushing myself up on my elbows, then quickly abandon the idea. "Do you ever get sick?"
"Not really," he says. "I'm told it's unpleasant."
"I hate you," I groan, burrowing further under the covers.
He leans down and kisses my forehead, somehow. I wasn't aware I left anything exposed. I really am tired.
"Don't," I mutter. "You'll catch this...mutant death bug."
"I won't," he assures me. "But even if I was going to, I would've caught it already. You're the most contagious before you even know you have it."
I'm not sure how long I lie there in silence, but it's probably a while. Time is weirdly distorted right now.
"You have something planned for Valentine's Day, don't you?" My tone is accusatory, but in my defense, my brain is clogged with snot.
He's smiling. I can tell without opening my eyes. "Of course I do," he says, softly. "But I also want you to get better because I don't like seeing you suffer."
I would snort, if I could. "Good one."
"Seriously," he says. "Drink the tea while it's hot. Or at least breathe it in. You'll feel better."
He's right, of course. But right now, all I want is to sleep endlessly until this thing loosens its claws and lets me breathe again.
I just mumble something that I hope conveys how little I want to move right now. Sighing, he peels back the covers just enough to snuggle in next to me. He's already halfway done by the time I realize what's happening.
"No," I mumble.
"Why?" he asks softly, his arm snaking around my stomach.
"You'll get sick."
"I won't." He nestles against me, tightly. "You're so goddamn stubborn. Just let me love you."
In the midst of my fog, one thought cuts through, loud and clear:
What the hell is he planning?
***
February 14th
"The blindfold doesn't really seem necessary."
I can hear him smiling. "No, but it's more fun this way."
Sighing, I stretch my legs out in front of me. "For who?"
His chuckle is low and warm. "Me, of course."
We're in a plane. That much I know, because it would be hard to miss while conscious. But he seems to think that I'll somehow intuit our destination if I can see , which seems...borderline insane. Even if he opened the window shades, all I'd be able to see now is clouds.
"Stop questioning my motives, darling. I know that's hard for you." There's a rustling sound as he stands up and walks...somewhere. I think his voice is coming from behind me, but the acoustics of the plane cabin are disorienting. "But really, really try."
"I don't actually think you have any idea how hard it is," I shoot back.
"This is important." His voice draws closer again. "None of this is going to work if you don't play along. So, you have to promise me you will. No matter how tempting it is to circumvent it, you have to play the game right."
"I
I have a cold.
This time last year, I was looking at at a gray, dripping morning, fantasizing about a blizzard that would trap me inside and away from work. More specifically, away from Adrian.
But it was thirty-four degrees and raining. Cold enough to be miserable, but not cold enough for snow. I hadn't taken a sick day in three years, but I still couldn't justify lying. Not when he needed me so much.
Twelve months later, and I actually am sick. Lately, it's felt like all of the illnesses that I once kept at bay through sheer will power have finally caught up with me.
I roll over in bed when I hear the door creak open, ever so slightly.
"You're awake," Adrian says, sounding surprised.
"I've been awake," I grumble, pulling the covers back over my head. "Just didn't feel like moving."
"Well, I've got some tea. Drink it while it's hot." He sits down on the edge of the bed, letting his hand rest on my hip like a comforting anchor.
I pull down the sheets just enough to eye him suspiciously. "Why are you being so nice?"
"Because I've sustained massive head trauma. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth." He smiles a little. "How are you feeling?"
"Exhausted." I think about pushing myself up on my elbows, then quickly abandon the idea. "Do you ever get sick?"
"Not really," he says. "I'm told it's unpleasant."
"I hate you," I groan, burrowing further under the covers.
He leans down and kisses my forehead, somehow. I wasn't aware I left anything exposed. I really am tired.
"Don't," I mutter. "You'll catch this...mutant death bug."
"I won't," he assures me. "But even if I was going to, I would've caught it already. You're the most contagious before you even know you have it."
I'm not sure how long I lie there in silence, but it's probably a while. Time is weirdly distorted right now.
"You have something planned for Valentine's Day, don't you?" My tone is accusatory, but in my defense, my brain is clogged with snot.
He's smiling. I can tell without opening my eyes. "Of course I do," he says, softly. "But I also want you to get better because I don't like seeing you suffer."
I would snort, if I could. "Good one."
"Seriously," he says. "Drink the tea while it's hot. Or at least breathe it in. You'll feel better."
He's right, of course. But right now, all I want is to sleep endlessly until this thing loosens its claws and lets me breathe again.
I just mumble something that I hope conveys how little I want to move right now. Sighing, he peels back the covers just enough to snuggle in next to me. He's already halfway done by the time I realize what's happening.
"No," I mumble.
"Why?" he asks softly, his arm snaking around my stomach.
"You'll get sick."
"I won't." He nestles against me, tightly. "You're so goddamn stubborn. Just let me love you."
In the midst of my fog, one thought cuts through, loud and clear:
What the hell is he planning?
***
February 14th
"The blindfold doesn't really seem necessary."
I can hear him smiling. "No, but it's more fun this way."
Sighing, I stretch my legs out in front of me. "For who?"
His chuckle is low and warm. "Me, of course."
We're in a plane. That much I know, because it would be hard to miss while conscious. But he seems to think that I'll somehow intuit our destination if I can see , which seems...borderline insane. Even if he opened the window shades, all I'd be able to see now is clouds.
"Stop questioning my motives, darling. I know that's hard for you." There's a rustling sound as he stands up and walks...somewhere. I think his voice is coming from behind me, but the acoustics of the plane cabin are disorienting. "But really, really try."
"I don't actually think you have any idea how hard it is," I shoot back.
"This is important." His voice draws closer again. "None of this is going to work if you don't play along. So, you have to promise me you will. No matter how tempting it is to circumvent it, you have to play the game right."
"I
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